By shoving the riata under the colt's belly with a forked
stick, and fishing the loose end up on the other side, he managed to get
a loop round the animal's hind quarters. He mounted his own horse and
took a turn of the riata round the saddle-horn.
His pony set its feet and leaned to the work. Slowly the colt was drawn
to solid ground.
He was a pitiful object as he lay panting and shivering, plastered with
mud and black slime, and almost dead from shock and chill. Collie spread
his slicker over him and rode up the hill at a trot. The blunder colt
raised its head a little, then dropped it and lay motionless.
* * * * *
When Collie and Billy Dime returned with gunnysacks and an old blanket,
the sun had warmed the air. The mud on the colt's side and neck had
begun to dry.
Billy Dime commented briefly. "He's a goner. He's froze clean to his
heart. Why didn't you leave him where he was?"
Collie spread the gunnysacks on a level beneath a live-oak, beneath
which they dragged the colt and covered him with the blanket. They gave
him whiskey with water that they heated at a little fire of brush. The
colt lifted its head, endeavoring spasmodically to get to its feet.
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