Silhouetted there against that canyon background he seemed gigantic, a demon horse, ready to plunge into fiery depths.

He was looking back over his shoulder, his head very high, and every line of him was instinct with wildness.

Again he sent out that shrill, air-splitting whistle.

Slone understood it to be a clarion call to Nagger.

If Nagger had been alone Wildfire would have killed him.