a she-grizzly with cubs, furiously lashing out with Zang's gun, ready to kill, insensate with the lust to kill. He, Original, had been forced to manhandle her in that battle back in the cabin to save his own life, yet in the height of conflict he had felt that strange call coming from the girl, that lure of the unconquered female.
Though Original was as innocent of feminine psychology as his horse Tige, somehow he sensed through instinct rather than deduced from reason that for the man who could conquer this tiger woman—break her as an outlawed horse is broken—triumph would be sweetened by a tremendous rushing from a wellspring of love.
Was Zang Whistler that woman breaker? The hazard that he might be sent a quick stab of jealousy to the range rider's heart. Why, he did not know.
"He sure is plumb welcome to her, Tige, if he can get her," Original tried to reassure himself in communion with the only confidant he had ever admitted to his heart's secrets. "But that kiss I busted into was n't comin' any too easy. She 'd creased that Zang fella from forelock to chin strap, an' it 's a fair bet she 'd bit
