rival, Twice they reared at such close range that they came down almost together, tearing open gaping wounds in shoulders or neck. The snow was trampled like a battle-field and streaked with blood.
Back and forth they surged, first ong getting the advantage and then the other, biting, kicking, squealing. Their breath came in whistling gasps through widely distended nostrils as the battle grew more and more furious.
Finally Sir Wilton landed his heels fairly in the side of the black fighter and scored two broken ribs against his adversary. But his advantage was of short duration, for the black fighter retreated, feigning fear, and threw him off his guard. Sir Wilton advanced carelessly and the black stallion played him the same trick, breaking three ribs instead of two. His blows also landed just above the dappled stallion's heart, and for a second he wavered as though he would fall. But he soon
