wildfire-第11部分

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camp；　where　he　packed　and　saddled；　and　at　once　rode　out　on　the　dim　trail。

The　wildness　of　the　country　he　was　entering　was　evident　in　the　fact　that　as　he
passed　the　glade　where　he　had　shot　the　deer　a　few　minutes　before；　there　were
coyotes　quarreling　over　the　carcass。

Stone　could　see　ahead　and　on　each　side　several　hundred　yards；　and　presently　he
ascertained　that　the　forest　floor　was　not　so　level　as　he　had　supposed。　He　had
entered　a　valley　or　was　traversing　a　wide；　gently　sloping　pass。　He　went
through　thickets　of　juniper；　and　had　to　go　around　clumps　of　quaking　aspen。　The
pines　grew　larger　and　farther　apart。　Cedars　and　pinyons　had　been　left　behind；
and　he　had　met　with　no　silver　spruces　after　leaving　camp。　Probably　that　point
was　the　height　of　a　divide。　There　were　banks　of　snow　in　some　of　the　hollows　on
the　north　side。　Evidently　the　snow　had　very　recently　melted；　and　it　was
evident　also　that　the　depth　of　snow　through　here　had　been　fully　ten　feet；
judging　from　the　mutilation　of　the　juniper…trees　where　the　deer；　standing　on
the　hard；　frozen　crust；　had　browsed　upon　the　branches。

The　quiet　of　the　forest　thrilled　Slone。　And　the　only　movement　was　the
occasional　gray　flash　of　a　deer　or　coyote　across　a　glade。　No　birds　of　any
species　crossed　Stone's　sight。　He　came；　presently；　upon　a　lion　track　in　the
trail；　made　probably　a　day　before。　Slone　grew　curious　about　it；　seeing　how　it
held；　as　he　was　holding；　to　Wildfire's　tracks。　After　a　mile　or　so　he　made　sure
the　lion　had　been　trailing　the　stallion；　and　for　a　second　he　felt　a　cold
contraction　of　his　heart。　Already　he　loved　Wildfire；　and　by　virtue　of　all　this
toil　of　travel　considered　the　wild　horse　his　property。

〃No　lion　could　ever　get　close　to　Wildfire；〃　he　soliloquized；　with　a　short
laugh。　Of　that　he　was　absolutely　certain。

The　sun　rose；　melting　the　frost；　and　a　breath　of　warm　air；　laden　with　the
scent　of　pine；　moved　heavily　under　the　huge；　yellow　trees。　Slone　passed　a
point　where　the　remains　of　an　old　camp…fire　and　a　pile　of　deer　antlers　were
further　proof　that　Indians　visited　this　plateau　to　hunt。　From　this　camp
broader；　more　deeply　defined　trails　led　away　to　the　south　and　east。　Slone　kept
to　the　east　trail；　in　which　Wildfire's　tracks　and　those　of　the　lion　showed
clearly。　It　was　about　the　middle　of　the　forenoon　when　the　tracks　of　the
stallion　and　lion　left　the　trail　to　lead　up　a　little　draw　where　grass　grew
thick。　Slone　followed；　reading　the　signs　of　Wildfire's　progress；　and　the
action　of　his　pursuer；　as　well　as　if　he　had　seen　them。　Here　the　stallion　had
plowed　into　a　snow…bank；　eating　a　hole　two　feet　deep；　then　he　had　grazed
around　a　little；　then　on　and　on；　there　his　splendid　tracks　were　deep　in　the
soft　earth。　Slone　knew　what　to　expect　when　the　track　of　the　lion　veered　from
those　of　the　horse；　and　he　followed　the　lion　tracks。　The　ground　was　soft　from
the　late　melting　of　snow；　and　Nagger　sunk　deep。　The　lion　left　a　plain　track。
Here　he　stole　steadily　along；　there　he　left　many　tracks　at　a　point　where　he
might　have　halted　to　make　sure　of　his　scent。　He　was　circling　on　the　trail　of
the　stallion；　with　cunning　intent　of　ambush。　The　end　of　this　slow；　careful
stalk　of　the　lion；　as　told　in　his　tracks；　came　upon　the　edge　of　a　knoll　where
he　had　crouched　to　watch　and　wait。

From　this　perch　he　had　made　a　magnificent　springSlone　estimating　it　to　be
forty　feet…but　he　had　missed　the　stallion。　There　were　Wildfire's　tracks　again；
slow　and　short；　and　then　deep　and　sharp　where　in　the　impetus　of　fright　he　had
sprung　out　of　reach。　A　second　leap　of　the　lion；　and　then　lessening　bounds；　and
finally　an　abrupt　turn　from　Wildfire's　trail　told　the　futility　of　that　stalk。
Slone　made　certain　that　Wildfire　was　so　keen　that　as　he　grazed　along　he　had
kept　to　open　ground。

Wildfire　had　run　for　a　mile；　then　slowed　down　to　a　trot；　and　he　had　circled　to
get　back　to　the　trail　he　had　left。　Slone　believed　the　horse　was　just　so
intelligent。　At　any　rate；　Wildfire　struck　the　trail　again；　and　turned　at　right
angles　to　follow　it。

Here　the　forest　floor　appeared　perfectly　level。　Patches　of　snow　became
frequent；　and　larger　as　Slone　went　on。　At　length　the　patches　closed　up；　and
soon　extended　as　far　as　he　could　see。　It　was　soft；　affording　difficult　travel。
Slone　crossed　hundreds　of　deer　tracks；　and　the　trail　he　was　on　eventually
became　a　deer　runway。

Presently；　far　down　one　of　the　aisles　between　the　great　pines　Slone　saw　what
appeared　to　be　a　yellow　cliff；　far　away。　It　puzzled　him。　And　as　he　went　on　he
received　the　impression　that　the　forest　dropped　out　of　sight　ahead。　Then　the
trees　grew　thicker；　obstructing　his　view。　Presently　the　trail　became　soggy　and
he　had　to　help　his　horse。　The　mustang　floundered　in　the　soft　snow　and　earth。
Cedars　and　pinyons　appeared　again；　making　travel　still　more　laborious。

All　at　once　there　came　to　Slone　a　strange　consciousness　of　light　and　wind　and
space　and　void。　On　the　instant　his　horse　halted　with　a　snort。　Slone　quickly
looked　up。　Had　he　come　to　the　end　of　the　world？　An　abyss；　a　canyon；　yawned
beneath　him；　beyond　all　comparison　in　its　greatness。　His　keen　eye；　educated　to
desert　distance　and　dimension；　swept　down　and　across；　taking　in　the　tremendous
truth；　before　it　staggered　his　comprehension。　But　a　second　sweeping　glance；
slower；　becoming　intoxicated　with　what　it　beheld；　saw　gigantic　cliff…steps　and
yellow　slopes　dotted　with　cedars；　leading　down　to　clefts　filled　with　purple
smoke；　and　these　led　on　and　on　to　a　ragged　red　world　of　rock；　bare；　shining；
bold；　uplifted　in　mesa；　dome；　peak；　and　crag；　clear　and　strange　in　the　morning
light；　still　and　sleeping　like　death。

This；　then；　was　the　great　canyon；　which　had　seemed　like　a　hunter's　fable
rather　than　truth。　Slone's　sight　dimmed；　blurring　the　spectacle；　and　he　found
that　his　eyes　had　filled　with　tears。　He　wiped　them　away　and　looked　again　and
again；　until　he　was　confounded　by　the　vastness　and　the　grandeur　and　the　vague
sadness　of　the　scene。　Nothing　he　had　ever　looked　at　had　affected　him　like　this
canyon；　although　the　Stewarts　had　tried　to　prepare　him　for　it。

It　was　the　horse…hunter's　passion　that　reminded　him　of　his　pursuit。　The　deer
trail　led　down　through　a　break　in　the　wall。　Only　a　few　rods　of　it　could　be
seen。　This　trail　was　passable；　even　though　choked　with　snow。　But　the　depth
beyond　this　wall　seemed　to　fascinate　Slone　and　hold　him　back；　used　as　he　was
to　desert　trails。　Then　the　clean　mark　of　Wildfire's　hoof　brought　back　the　old
thrill。

〃This　place　fits　you；　Wildfire；〃　muttered　Slone；　dismounting。

He　started　down；　leading　Nagger。　The　mustang　followed。　Slone　kept　to　the　wall
side　of　the　trail；　fearing　the　horses　might　slip。　The　snow　held　firmly　at
first　and　Slone　had　no　trouble。　The　gap　in　the　rim…rock　widened　to　a　slope
thickly　grown　over　with　cedars　and　pinyons　and　manzanita。　This　growth　made　the
descent　more　laborious；　yet　afforded　means　at　least　for　Slone　to　go　down　with
less　danger。　There　was　no　stopping。　Once　started；　the　horses　had　to　keep　on。
Slone　saw　the　impossibility　of　ever　climbing　out　while　that　snow　was　there。
The　trail　zigzagged　down　and　down。　Very　soon　the　yellow　wall　hung　tremendously
over　him；　straight　up。　The　snow　became　thinner　and　softer。　The　horses　began　to
slip。　They　slid　on　their　haunches。　Fortunately　the　slope　grew　less　steep；　and
Slone　could　see　below　where　it　reached　out　to　comparatively　level　ground。
Still；　a　mishap　might　yet　occur。　Slone　kept　as　close　to　Nagger　as　possible；
helping　him　whenever　he　could　do　it。　The　mustang　slipped；　rolled　over；　and
then　slipped　past　Slone；　went　down　the　slope　to　bring　up　in　a　cedar。　Slone
worked　down　to　him　and　extricated　him。　Then　the　huge　Nagger　began　to　slide。
Snow　and　loose　rock　slid　with　him；　and　so　did　Slone。　The　little　avalanche
stopped　of　its　own　accord；　and　then　Slone　dragged　Nagger　on　down　and　down；
presently　to　come　to　the　end　of　the　steep　descent。　Slone　looked　up　to　see　that
he　had　made　short　work　of　a　thousand…foot　slope。　Here　cedars　and　pinyons　grew
thickly　enough　to　make　a　forest。　The　snow　thinned　out　to　patches；　and　then
failed。　But　the　going　remained　bad　for　a　while　as　the　horses　sank　deep　in　a
soft　red　earth。　This　eventually　grew　more　solid　and　finally　dry。　Slone　worked
out　of　the　cedars　to　what　appeared　a　grassy　plateau　inclosed　by　the　great
green…and…white　slope　with　its　yellow　wall　over　hanging；　and　distant　mesas　and
cliffs。　Here　his　view　was　restricted。　He　was　down　on　the　first　bench　of　the
great　canyon。　And　there　was　the　deer　trail；　a　well…worn　path　keeping　to　the
edge　of　the　slope。　Slone　came　to　a　deep　cut　in　the　earth；　and　the　trail　headed
it；　where　it　began　at　the　last　descent　of　the　slope。　It　was　the　source　of　a
canyon。　He　could　look　down　to　see　the　bare；　worn　rock；　and　a　hundred　yards
from　where　he　stood　the　earth　was　washed　from　its　rims　and　it　began　to　show
depth　and　something　of　that　ragged　outline　which　told　of　violence　of　flood。
The　trail　headed　many　canyons　like　this；　all　running　down　across　this　bench；
disappearing；　dropping　invisibly。　The　trail　swung　to　the　left　under　the　great
slope；　and　then　presently　it　climbed　to　a　higher　bench。　Here　were　brush　and
grass　and　huge　patches　of　sage；　so　pungent　that　it　stung　Slone's　nostrils。
Then　he　went　down　again；　this　time　to　come　to　a　clear　brook　lined　by　willows。
Here　the　horses　drank　long　and　Slone　refreshed　himself。　The　sun　had　grown　hot。
There　was　fragrance　of　flowers　he　could　not　see　and　a　low　murmur　of　a
waterfall　that　was　likewise　invisible。　For　most　of　the　time　his　view　was　shut
off；　but　occasionally　he　reached　a　point　where　through　some　break　he　saw
towers　gleaming　red　in　the　sun。　A　strange　place；　a　place　of　silence；　and　smoky
veils　in　the　distance。　Time　passed　swiftly。　Toward　the　waning　of　the　afternoon
he　began　to　climb　to　what　appeared　to　be　a　saddle　of　land；　connecting　the
canyon　wall　on　the　left　with　a　great　plateau；　gold…rimmed　and　pine…fringed；
rising　more　and　more　in　his　way　as　he　advanced。　At　sunset　Slone　was　more　shut
in　than　for　several　hours。　He　could　tell　the　time　was　sunset　by　the　golden
light　on　the　cliff　wall　again　overhanging　him。　The　slope　was　gradual　up　to
this　pass　to　the　saddle；　and　upon　coming　to　a　spring；　and　the　first
pine…trees；　he　decided　to　ha