And man and beast somehow resembled each other in that moment which was inimical to noble life.
The avalanche slipped with little jerks, as if treacherously loosing its hold for a long plunge.

The line of fire below ate at the bleached grass and the long column of smoke curled away on the wind.
Slone held the taut lasso with his left hand, and with the right he swung the other rope, catching the noose round Wildfire's nose.

Then letting go of the first rope he hauled on the other, pulling the head of the stallion far down.

Hand over hand Slone closed in on the horse.
He leaped on Wildfire's head, pressed it down, and, holding it down on the sand with his knees, with swift fingers he tied the noose in a hackamore--an improvised halter.

Then, just as swiftly, he bound his scarf tight round Wildfire's head, blindfolding him.
"All so easy!" exclaimed Slone, under his breath.