Wildfire

ed flash of sunrise a breeze fanned his cheek. All that was n

grass, though here and there Slone caught flickering glimpses of dull red flame. The wild stallion kept to the center of the valley, restlessly fac

saw that it began to clear the valley of the low-hanging smoke. There came

nds perspired and trembled and that something weighty seemed to obstruct his breathing. He muttered that he was pretty much worn out, not in the best of condition for a hard fight with a wild horse. Still he would capture Wildfire; his mind was unalterably set there. He anticipated that the stallion would make a final and de

eaped to a formidable barrier. In less than an hour, though the time seemed only a few moments to the excited Slone, Wildfire had been driven down toward the narrowing

the valley and began to climb. The slope was steep and soft, yet the stallion climbed up and up. The dust flew in clouds

was much elated. In that soft bank Wildfir

und it at either end or surmount it in the middle. Finally he literally pawed and cut a path, much as if he were digging in the sand for water. When he got over that he was not much better off. The slope above was endless and grew steeper, more difficult toward the top.

avalanche pretty s

eached a point halfway up the slope, at the head of a long, yellow bank of treacherous-looking sand. Here he was halted by a low bulge, which he mig

n-and again stopped. Wildfire appeared to be sinking deeper and deeper. His struggles only embedded him more firmly. Then the bank of sand, with an ominous, low roar, began to move onc

eft above, that it was indeed deep. That was the reason it did not slide readily. When the

perhaps a quarter of a mile distant, and, since the grass was thinning out, it was not coming so fast as it ha

g him, that it was not possible the great horse really was up there, helpless in the sand. Yet every huge stride Slone took brought him closer to

is eyes wild, showing the whites, his foaming mouth wide open, his teeth gleaming. A sound like a scream rent the air. Terrible fear and hate were

h that low roar. He did not care whether it slipped or stopped. Like a wolf he leaped closer, whirling his rope. The loop hissed ro

e-on him!" cried Sl

t of the avalanche under him. Wildfire's head seemed a demon head of hate. It reached ou

ld ever equal that one, when he realized he stood there with a rope around that grand stallion's neck. All the days and the miles and

stayed-with you! ... An' I got a rope-

He hauled on the lasso, pulling the stallion's head down and down. The action was the lust of capture as well as the rider's instinctive motive to make the horse fear him. Life was unqu

ng its hold for a long plunge. The line of fire below ate at the b

the other, pulling the head of the stallion far down. Hand over hand Slone closed in on the horse. He leaped on Wildfire's head, pressed it down, and, holding it down on the san

under his breath. "Lord! who wou

the stallion h

" said Slone. "An' if I had a bridle I'd put that on you....

he lassoes, keeping himself erect, and riding as if in a boat. He felt the successive steps of the slope, and then the long incline below, and then the checking and rising and spreading of the avalanche as it slowed down on the level. All movement then was checked violently. He appeared to be half buried in sand. While he struggl

cond whistle started him again. Slone finally dug himself out of the sand, pulled the lassoes out, and ran th

called Slon

ound, and, mounting in a flash, wound bo

boy!" cried Slone, and he

assoes he sensed the direction of his captors. He plunged, rearing at the end of the plunge, and struck out viciously with his hoofs. Slone, quick with spur and bridle, swerved Nagger aside and Wildfire, off his balance, went down

lled, grimly. "But you led me a chase

this time he lunged out. Nagger, powerful as he was, could not sustain the tremendous shock, and went down. Slone saved himself with a rider's supple skill, falling clear of the horse, and he leaped again

Nagger in a circle, running blindly, but with unerring scent. Slone, by masterly horsemanship, easily avoided the rushes, and made a

calling. "He'll never get at you.... I

ould not see. And Slone, in his spoken intention to kill Wildfire should the scarf slip, acknowledged that he never would have a chance to mas

aused in his mad plunges. He was wet and heaving. His red c

rate chance and spurred Nagger in a single leap as Wildfire reared again. The horses collided. Slone hauled the lassoes tight. The impact threw Wildfire off his balance, just as Slone had calculated, and as the stallion plunged down on four feet Slone spurred Nagger close against h

and-gray valley, and the isolated monuments in the distance. There, on that wide

one called. "Drag us aro

e, that Nagger was being pulled along at a tremendous pace. The faithful black could never have made the wind cut so. L