Explore "The Heritage of the Desert" by Zane Grey on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"JACK! the saddle's slipping! " cried Mescal, clinging closer to him. "What luck! " Hare muttered through clinched teeth, and pulled hard on the bridle. But the mouth of the stallion was iron; regardless of the sawing bit, he galloped on. Hare called steadily: "Whoa there, Silver! Whoa -- slow now -- whoa -- easy! " and finally halted him. Hare swung down, and as he lifted Mescal off, the saddle slipped to the ground.
"Lucky not to get a spill! The girth snapped. It was wet, and dried out. " Hare hurriedly began to repair the break with buckskin thongs that he found in a saddle-bag.