Wildfire

Slone saw of Wildf

found a water-hole in a rocky pocket and a little grass for Nagger. The third day's travel consisted of forty miles or more through level pine forest, dry and odorous, but lacking the freshness and beauty of the forest on t

d desolate distances, forbidding and menacing. This was not the desert upland country of Utah, but a naked and bony world of colored rock and sand-a painted desert of heat and wind and flying sand

his wonderful quality. He did not mind the heat nor the sand nor the glare nor t

to within half a mile of the stallion. And he chose to keep that far

reasewood, always descending in the face of that painted desert of bold and ragged steps. Slone made fifty miles that day, and gained the va

rew there. And following that was a tortuous passage through a weird region of clay dunes, blue and violet and heliotrope and lavender, all worn smooth by rain and wind. Wildfire favored the soft ground now. He had deviated from his straight course. And he was partial to washes and dips in the earth where w

to the north in his course. Like any pursued wild animal, he had beg

ight. Somewhere over there in the desert lived Indians. At this point Wildfire abandoned the trail he had followed for many days and cut out more to the north. It took all the morning hours to climb three great steps and benches that led up to the summit of a mesa, vast in extent. It

ng from bare to gray and gray to green, and then to the purple of sage and

ng gaunt and showing strain; and Slone, haggard and black

on, always pushing Wildfire, keeping him tired, wearied, and worrying him, till a section of the country was reached where he could dr

spent much of this time of flight in looking backward. Whenever Slone came in sight of him he had his head over his shoulder, watching. And on the soft ground of these canyons he had begun to recover from his lameness. But this did not worry Slone. Sooner or later Wildfire would go down into a high-walled wash, from which there would be no outlet; or he would wander into a box-canyon; or

ning canyons opened into a

but all clean-cut, bold, with straight lines. They stood up everywhere, monumental, towering, many-colored, lending a singular and

's sight was Wildfire. He shon

chance to trap the stallion. Still that did not alter Slone's purpose, though it lost to him the joy of former hopes. He rode down the slope, out

s miles apart. But they always seemed close together and near him. The air magnified everything. Slone lost track of time. The strange, solemn, lonely days and the si

ger did not make him suffer. He killed a desert bird now and then, and once a wildcat crossing the valley. Eventually he felt his strength diminishing, and then he took to digging out the pack-rats and cooking them. But these, too, were scarce. At length starvation faced Slone. But he knew he would not starve. Many times he had

un bleached the grass; water-holes failed out in the valley, and water could be found only in the canyons; and the dry winds began to blow the sand. It was

, till at length some of them were joined by weathered ridges to the walls of the surrounding plateau. For all that Slone could see, Wildfire was i

fortune of killing a rabbit, and while eating it his gloomy, fixed mind admitted that he was starving. He dreaded the next sunrise. But he could not hold it back. There, behind the dark monuments, standing sentinel-like, the sky

ge country. A basin three miles across lay beneath him. Walls and weathered slants of rock and steep slopes of reddish-yellow sand inclosed this oval depression. The floor was white, and it seemed to

and presently Slone, by straining his eyes,

ountry," soliloquized Slone

at Wildfire could not get out except by the narrow pass through which he had gone in. Slone sat astride Nagger in the mou

gazed at the sweeping, shimmering oval floor, "I might

not go without water as long as Wildfire. For the first time Slone hesitated. It seemed merciless to Nagger to drive him do

an idea, and suddenly he was tense,

" called Slone. The speech was full of bitter failure, of regret, o

ndeed be wildfire to race with the red stallion. It would perhaps mean his death;

on the other side the wind of flame would drive Wildfire straight toward him. The slopes and walls narrowed up to th

gaze to scan the circle of wall and slope. "Why not? ... No wind at night. That gra

the patient Nagger and to cr

ve got him! ... We'll put a rope o

that side. The far end, beyond the monuments, was a sheer wall of rock. Then he crossed to the left side. Here the sandy slope was almost too steep for even him to go up. And there was grass that would

would be fit for the grueling work possibly in store for him. Slone unsaddled the horse and turned him loose, and with a snort he made down the gentle slope for the

arge, that Wildfire thought there was a way out on the other side or over the slopes or through the walls. Never before had the far-sighted stallion made a mistake. Slone suddenly felt the

at he would not be absent long from the mouth of the pass. Fire was always a difficult matter, since he must depend only on flint and steel. He decided to wait till dark, build a fire with dead cedar sticks, and carry

wind blew almost a gale. Thin, curling sheets of sand blew up over the crests of the slopes, and the sound it ma

There was a strip of red along the wall of rock and on the tips of the monuments, and it lingered there for long, a

wood. Farther back in the pass he found stunted dead cedars, and from these secured enough for his purpose. He kindled a fire and burnt the ends

e kept to the edge of the left slope and put Nagger to a good trot. The grass and brush w

r scent him, and make a break back to the pass and thus escape. Slone was glad when the huge, dark monuments were indistinguishable from the black, frowning wall. He had to go slower here, because of the darkness. But at last he reached the slow rise of jumbled rock that evidently marked the extent of weathering on that side. Here he turned to the right and rode out into the valley. The flo

imed Slone. That word was a favorite one with riders, and now Slone used it both to call ou

te smoke rising lazily. Then he loped Nagger along the side back to the sandy ascent, and on up to the mouth of the pass. There he searched for tracks. Wildfire had not gone out, and Slone expe

another. They appeared thin and slow, with only an occasional leaping flame. And some of the black spaces

" he said, aloud, and he me

two brightest fires, the first he had started, crept closer and closer together. They seemed long in covering distance. But not a breath of

dared. But a wild horse feared nothing like fire. This one would not run the gantlet of flames. Nevertheless, Slone felt more and more relieved as the lines closed. The hours of the nig

the stars changed. Either the line of fire was finding denser fuel to consume or it

ears for the thud

r it had passed; and he could tell how the hours fled by the ever-rec

d behind it loomed the monuments, weird and dark, w

n to place his ear to the sand. Rapid, rhythmic beat of hoofs made him leap

ted against that line of fire now flaring to the sky. But he heard the beat of hoofs, swift, sharp, louder-louder. The night shadows were deceptive. That wonderful light confused him, made the pl

smoke rose white and yellow, to turn back as the monuments met their crests, and then to roll upward, blotting out the stars. It was such a light as he had n

mages. Many a wild chase he had lived in dreams on some far desert. But what was that beating in his ears-sharp, swift, even, rhythmic? Never had his ears played him false. Never had he heard things in his dreams. That running object was a ho

the burning grass. There he stood sharply defined, clear

the ruling passion of a rider held him-the sheer glory of a grand and unattainable horse. For Slone gave up Wildfire in that splendid moment. How had he ever dared

flying. Behind him the fire flared and the valley-wide column of smoke rolled majestically upward, and the great monuments seemed to retrea

sound of lightning. And with the whistle Wildfire plunged up toward the pass. Slone yelled at the top of his lungs and fired his gun before

n across the valley from wall to slope. Wildfire could never pierce that line of