The filly had snapped her foreleg short. I had had to shoot her down.
So there he struggled and strangled, and I snubbed him around the tree.
Nearer, a little nearer—hoofs planted, and lolling tongue—
Till a sudden slack pitched me backward. He reared right on top of me.
Mother of God—that moment! He missed me ... and up I swung.
Somehow, gone daft completely and clawing a bunch of his mane,
As he stumbled and tripped in the lariat, there I was—up and astride
And cursing for seven counties! And the mustang? Just insane!
Crack-bang! went the rope; we cannoned off the tree—then—gods, that ride!
A rocket—that’s all, a rocket! I dug with my teeth and nails.