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Then, just as swiftly, he bound his scarf tight round Wildfire's head, blindfolding him. "All so easy!" exclaimed Slone, under his breath. "Who would believe it! Is it a dream?" He rose and let the stallion have a free head. "Wildfire, I got a rope on you an' a hackamore an' a blinder," said Slone. "An' if I had a bridle I'd put that on you.
The cowboy who had him in tow took an extra dally around the saddle horn as the Texan, hackamore in hand, felt his way inch by inch along the taut lead-rope. As the man's hand touched his nose the outlaw shuddered and braced back until only the whites of his eyes showed. Up came the hand and the rawhide hackamore slipped slowly into place.
As soon as he falls a man jumps on to his head and holds it firmly in such a way that he cannot get up, and someone slips on the Hackamore bridle. Thus you will see that a horse lying on its side requires his muzzle as a lever to get him on his feet. Then he is allowed to rise and to find, though he may not then realize it, that his wild freedom is gone from him for ever.
Then, just as swiftly, he bound his scarf tight round Wildfire's head, blindfolding him. "All so easy!" exclaimed Slone, under his breath. "Lord! who would believe it! ... Is it a dream?" He rose and let the stallion have a free head. "Wildfire, I got a rope on you an' a hackamore an' a blinder," said Slone.
To be sure, his face was a little dished in and he showed other signs of his scrub Indian blood, but after Creede had cinched on the new stamped-leather saddle and adjusted the ornate hackamore and martingale, Pinto was the sportiest-looking horse outside of a Wild West show.
Then I climbed through the window and down the kitchen roof, and let myself down to the ground. Some more men came past, and I hid on the porch and slipped over to the horse barns and found a hackamore, and went down to the corral and hunted around till I found this little pinto she's the best to ride bareback." "I could ride a razorback why take all that trouble for me?"
Then with the enthusiasm at its height, the man jerked at his hackamore knot, and the next moment the horse's head was free and the rider rode "on his balance" without the sustaining grip on the hackamore rope to hold him firm in his saddle. The sudden loosening of the rawhide thongs gave the outlaw new life.
He had been hero enough. The only clothing that iron-gray pony had on during that fourteen-mile ride was a hackamore, and the only clothing Whitey had on was a night-shirt. He was fit for nothing except to lie face downward and sleep no attitude for a hero. Whitey begged, he appealed, he almost wept, but his father was firm. He was willing to risk his own life; he would not risk his son's.
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