Whistling Dan shifted in the saddle.

His left foot took the opposite stirrup.

His right leg swung free.
The big roan swerved--the black in response to a word from his rider followed the motion--and then the miracle happened.

A shadow plunged through the air; a weight thudded on the saddle of the roan; an iron hand jerked back the reins.
Red Pete hated men and feared them, but this new weight on his back was different.

It was not the pressure on the reins which urged him to slow up; he had the bit in his teeth and no human hand could pull down his head; but into the blind love, blind terror, blind rage which makes up the consciousness of a horse entered a force which he had never known before.