n he whipped into shape like
a steel spring an' stood there on the rim of the ridge, neck an' tail
arched, head tossin' out that long black mane, red flarin' nostrils
suckin' in the night air, an' a forefoot pawin' the rock. If Remington
or old Charlie Russell could have seen what I saw there in the
moonlight--man an' horse--the best man, an' the best horse in all the
cow-country--the sky black an' soft as velvet, an' the yellow range--no
one will paint it--because no one will ever see the like again. There
they stood, lookin' out over the wild country. And, then Tex slipped
down an' stepped slow to the Red King's head. He put up his arms an'
they closed over the arched neck an' his cheek laid against the satin
skin of him. For what seemed like a long time they stood there, an' then
Tex stepped back an' pointed to the yellow range: 'Go on, boy!' he said,
'_Go!_' An' he brought the flat of his hand down with a slap on the
shiny flank. For just an instant the horse hesitated an' then he went
over the edge. The loose rocks clattered loud, an' then come the sound
of hoofs on the sod as the Red King tore down the valley. Tex watched
him an' all of a sudden his fingers flew to his lips, an' a shrill
whistle cut the air. Down in the valley the devil-horse stopped
short--stopped an' whirled at the sound. Then of a sudden he reared high
his forefeet pawin' the air in a fume of fury an' up out of the night
come the wickedest, wildest scream man ever heard--it was a scream that
got to a man. It sent cold shivers up an' down my back. The Red King had
come into his own again--he was defyin' his master. He turned, then, an'
the last I saw of him was a red blur in the distance.

"Then Tex turned an' started back along the ridge. I could see his face,
now, an' the twisty smile on his lips. I aimed to stay hid an' never let
on I'd seen--it seemed somehow best that way. But when he was right
opposite me he stopped an' rolled a cigarette an' the flare of the match
made my horse jump, an' the next second he was beside me with a gun in
his hand, an' his face flamin' red as the coat of the devil-horse.

"'You saw it?' he says, kind of quiet.

"I shakes my head: 'Yes,' I says, 'but not intentional. I was ridin'
home from the NL, an' I slipped in here to let you by.'

"Pretty soon he spoke again kind of slow: 'If it had b'en anyone else
but you, Dad,' he says, 'I'd of--of--But, you understand, you savvy.
He's wild--we're both wild--the Red