Sitting on the ground, his heels still braced in the dirt, he looked at the raging horse. If only Flame would stop fighting so hard! If only he would keep his body still and his forelegs rigid on the rim, he wouldn’t sink so fast!

Steve was filled with anxiety for the stallion; he had an overpowering desire to help. But what could he do? Where would he start? There was that chain hanging over the pit. A moment later Steve moved toward the crane’s supporting pole with a swiftness that only comes in moments of great stress, when actions are never remembered in detail.

Reaching the pole with long, quick strides, he bent down, picking up the rope that he had dropped during his fall. Then he returned to the pit, moving closer to the stallion than he’d been before.

The horse’s forefeet had stopped thrashing and now moved only when his hoofs slipped on the loose dirt of the pit’s rim. His arrogant head, with teeth bared, was turned toward the boy, but Steve was unmindful of it. His attention was fixed on Flame’s hindquarters. Momentarily the stallion had stopped sinking. If he continued to remain still there might be time to save him.

The boy studied the chain dangling a few feet above and a little to the rear of the stallion. He had to get his rope through the iron band at the end. For a matter of seconds there was indecision in Steve’s eyes; then quickly he made his way to the supporting pole, stopping for a second to gaze at the metal wheel around which the chain was wound. Steve’s hand went toward the handle of the wheel but he did not touch it. There would be time for that later, he told himself. He heard Flame resume pounding his hoofs and knew he had to work even faster. The coil of rope went about his neck and his arms reached high up the supporting pole and around it. Then he jumped, clearing the wheel, and his legs encircled the pole. His arms reached higher on the pole, and his shoulder muscles bulged through his thin shirt as he pulled himself up, his legs wrapped securely about the pole.

Upon reaching the top, Steve looked across at the wooden arm extending over the pit. He pressed his hand down on it, and found it solid and steady. Gradually he placed all his weight upon it until he was convinced that the aged wood was as strong as it had ever been.