knew full well that his adversary was a terrible fighter.
Black Fury trotted forward until he came within fifty feet of his rival, then stopped and stood glaring at him. He was working himself up to the proper fighting pitch, although it seemed to Sir Wilton that he needed no such priming. He snorted and snapped his teeth like a steel trap, then sprang forward. Three or four jumps carried him to within ten feet of Sir Wilton, when he wheeled and lashed out with his heels. But he was not quicker than the dappled stallion, who wheeled at the same instant and also kicked out with his heels. Their hoofs came together with a ringing sound, but did no damage. Then both wheeled again and stood facing each other thirty feet apart. For several seconds they stood thus, when Black Fury again executed that circus stunt that had so terrified the dappled colt. He reared on his hind legs and began slowly walking forward, paw-
