Alan was the best, since his huge arms could tackle a horse-belly better than the best of us, even two put together as one. Vex managed more than pulled but no one doubted that his veins were in his head rather than his rope arms. Pete had twisted all kinds of things horse-dodging but he pulloped with the rest of us and felt satisfaction in his work. Crayne was the last and though not the strongest or the quickest or the cleverest his own back pulled and sweated and made gravel-like pits in the mud and the hay as he growled almost as loudly as the horse.
"His face - ha! - a huge, perspiring mound with hair that could have been gorse and eyes so close together they could almost see into one another."
It was Crayne, and no other, that secured the last rope up and under the chin and throat and Crayne that heard the first crackle of bones as we lifted the mare up against the blue-black sky.