The smoke of the burning grass was thick, cutting between him and the
woods. Might it also provide a curtain behind which he could hope to
escape both parties? The fire was sending the horse back toward the
waiting ship people. Ross could hear a confused shouting in the smoke.
Then his mount made a miscalculation, and a tongue of red licked too
close. The animal screamed, dashing on blindly straight between two of
the blazes and away from the blue-clad men.
Ross coughed, almost choking, his eyes watering as the stench of singed
hair thickened the smoke. But he had been carried out of the fire circle
and was shooting back into the meadowland. Mount and unwilling rider
were well away from the upper end of that cleared space when another
horse cut in from the left, matching speed to the uncontrolled animal to
which Ross clung. It was one of the tribesmen riding easily.
The trick worked, for the wild race slowed to a gallop and the other
rider, in a feat of horsemanship at which Ross marveled, leaned from his
seat to catch the dangling nose rope, bringing the runaway against his
own steady steed.
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