actus. There was a hackamore round his nose and a
tight noose round his neck. The one round his neck was also round his
forelegs. And both lassoes were held taut by the black horse. A torn
and soiled rider's scarf hung limp round the red horse's nose, kept
from falling off by the hackamore.

"A wild horse, a stallion, being broken!" exclaimed Lucy, instantly
grasping the situation. "Oh! where's the rider?"

She gazed around, ran to and fro, glanced down the little slope, and
beyond, but she did not see anything resembling the form of a man. Then
she ran back.

Lucy took another quick look at the red stallion. She did not believe
either his legs or back were hurt. He was just played out and tangled
and tied in the ropes, and could not get up. The shaggy black horse
stood there braced and indomitable. But he, likewise, was almost ready
to drop. Looking at the condition of both horses and the saddle and
ropes, Lucy saw what a fight there had been, and a race! Where was the
rider? Thrown, surely, and back on the trail, perhaps dead or maimed.

Lucy went closer to the stallion so that she could almost touch him. He
saw her. He was nearly choked. Foam and blood wheezed out with his
heaves. She must do something quickly. And in her haste she pricked her
arms and shoulders on the cactus.

She led the black horse closer in, letting the ropes go, slack. The
black seemed as glad of that release as she was. What a faithful brute
he looked! Lucy liked his eyes.

Then she edged down in among the cactus and brush. The red horse no
longer lay in a strained position. He could lift his head. Lucy saw
that the noose still held tight round his neck. Fearlessly she jerked
it loose. Then she backed away, but not quite out of his reach. He
coughed and breathed slowly, with great heaves. Then he snorted.

"You're all right now," said Lucy, soothingly. Slowly she reached a
hand toward his head. He drew it back as far as he could. She stepped
around, closer, and more back of him, and put a hand on him, gently,
for an instant. Then she slipped out of the brush and, untying one
lasso from the pommel, she returned to the horse and pulled it from
round his legs. He was free now, except the hackamore, and that rope
was slack. Lucy stood near him, watching him, talking to him, waiting
for him to get up. She could not be sure he was not badly hurt till he
stood up. At first he made no efforts to rise. He watched Lucy, less
fearfully, she imagin