Had the wild sorrel gone mad?
His head was high and twisted, in a most singular position for a running horse.
Suddenly Venters descried a frog-like shape clinging to Wrangle's neck.
Jerry Card! Somehow he had straddled Wrangle and now stuck like a huge burr.

But it was his strange position and the sorrel's wild scream that shook Venters's nerves.

Wrangle was pounding toward the turn where the trail went down.

He plunged onward like a blind horse.

More than one of his leaps took him to the very edge of the precipice.
Jerry Card was bent forward with his teeth fast in the front of Wrangle's nose! Venters saw it, and there flashed over him a memory of this trick of a few desperate riders.