wildfire-第12部分

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this　pass　to　the　saddle；　and　upon　coming　to　a　spring；　and　the　first
pine…trees；　he　decided　to　halt　for　a　camp。　The　mustang　was　almost　exhausted。

Thereupon　he　hobbled　the　horses　in　the　luxuriant　grass　round　the　spring；　and
then　unrolled　his　pack。　Once　as　dusk　came　stealing　down；　while　he　was　eating
his　meal；　Nagger　whistled　in　fright。　Slone　saw　a　gray；　pantherish　form　gliding
away　into　the　shadows。　He　took　a　quick　shot　at　it；　but　missed。

〃It's　a　lion　country；　all　right；〃　he　said。　And　then　he　set　about　building　a
big　fire　on　the　other　side　of　the　grassy　plot；　so　to　have　the　horses　between
fires。　He　cut　all　the　venison　into　thin　strips；　and　spent　an　hour　roasting
them。　Then　he　lay　down　to　rest；　and　he　said：　〃Wonder　where　Wildfire　is
to…night？　Am　I　closer　to　him？　Where's　he　headin'　for？〃

The　night　was　warm　and　still。　It　was　black　near　the　huge　cliff；　and　overhead
velvety　blue；　with　stars　of　white　fire。　It　seemed　to　him　that　he　had　become
more　thoughtful　and　observing　of　the　aspects　of　his　wild　environment；　and　he
felt　a　welcome　consciousness　of　loneliness。　Then　sleep　came　to　him　and　the
night　seemed　short。　In　the　gray　dawn　he　arose　refreshed。

The　horses　were　restive。　Nagger　snorted　a　welcome。　Evidently　they　had　passed
an　uneasy　night。　Slone　found　lion　tracks　at　the　spring　and　in　sandy　places。
Presently　he　was　on　his　way　up　to　the　notch　between　the　great　wall　and　the
plateau。　A　growth　of　thick　scrub…oak　made　travel　difficult。　It　had　not
appeared　far　up　to　that　saddle；　but　it　was　far。　There　were　straggling
pine…trees　and　huge　rocks　that　obstructed　his　gaze。　But　once　up　he　saw　that
the　saddle　was　only　a　narrow　ridge；　curved　to　slope　up　on　both　sides。

Straight　before　Slone　and　under　him　opened　the　canyon；　blazing　and　glorious
along　the　peaks　and　ramparts；　where　the　rising　sun　struck；　misty　and　smoky　and
shadowy　down　in　those　mysterious　depths。

It　took　an　effort　not　to　keep　on　gazing。　But　Slone　turned　to　the　grim　business
of　his　pursuit。　The　trail　he　saw　leading　down　had　been　made　by　Indians。　It　was
used　probably　once　a　year　by　them；　and　also　by　wild　animals；　and　it　was
exceedingly　steep　and　rough。　Wildfire　had　paced　to　and　fro　along　the　narrow
ridge　of　that　saddle；　making　many　tracks；　before　he　had　headed　down　again。
Slone　imagined　that　the　great　stallion　had　been　daunted　by　the　tremendous
chasm；　but　had　finally　faced　it；　meaning　to　put　this　obstacle　between　him　and
his　pursuers。　It　never　occurred　to　Slone　to　attribute　less　intelligence　to
Wildfire　than　that。　So；　dismounting；　Slone　took　Nagger's　bridle　and　started
down。　The　mustang　with　the　pack　was　reluctant。　He　snorted　and　whistled　and
pawed　the　earth。　But　he　would　not　be　left　alone；　so　he　followed。

The　trail　led　down　under　cedars　that　fringed　a　precipice。　Slone　was　aware　of
this　without　looking。　He　attended　only　to　the　trail　and　to　his　horse。　Only　an
Indian　could　have　picked　out　that　course；　and　it　was　cruel　to　put　a　horse　to
it。　But　Nagger　was　powerful；　sure…footed；　and　he　would　go　anywhere　that　Slone
led　him。　Gradually　Slone　worked　down　and　away　from　the　bulging　rim…wall。　It
was　hard；　rough　work；　and　risky　because　it　could　not　be　accomplished　slowly。
Brush　and　rocks；　loose　shale　and　weathered　slope；　long；　dusty　inclines　of
yellow　earth；　and　jumbles　of　stonethese　made　bad　going　for　miles　of　slow；
zigzag　trail　down　out　of　the　cedars。　Then　the　trail　entered　what　appeared　to
be　a　ravine。

That　ravine　became　a　canyon。　At　its　head　it　was　a　dry　wash；　full　of　gravel　and
rocks。　It　began　to　cut　deep　into　the　bowels　of　the　earth。　It　shut　out　sight　of
the　surrounding　walls　and　peaks。　Water　appeared　from　under　a　cliff　and；
augmented　by　other　springs；　became　a　brook。　Hot；　dry；　and　barren　at　its
beginning；　this　cleft　became　cool　and　shady　and　luxuriant　with　grass　and
flowers　and　amber　moss　with　silver　blossoms。　The　rocks　had　changed　color　from
yellow　to　deep　red。　Four　hours　of　turning　and　twisting；　endlessly　down　and
down；　over　boulders　and　banks　and　every　conceivable　roughness　of　earth　and
rock；　finished　the　pack…mustang；　and　Slone　mercifully　left　him　in　a　long　reach
of　canyon　where　grass　and　water　never　failed。　In　this　place　Slone　halted　for
the　noon　hour；　letting　Nagger　have　his　fill　of　the　rich　grazing。　Nagger's
three　days　in　grassy　upland；　despite　the　continuous　travel　by　day；　had
improved　him。　He　looked　fat；　and　Slone　had　not　yet　caught　the　horse　resting。
Nagger　was　iron　to　endure。　Here　Slone　left　all　the　outfit　except　what　was　on
his　saddle；　and　the　sack　containing　the　few　pounds　of　meat　and　supplies；　and
the　two　utensils。　This　sack　he　tied　on　the　back　of　his　saddle；　and　resumed　his
journey。

Presently　he　came　to　a　place　where　Wildfire　had　doubled　on　his　trail　and　had
turned　up　a　side　canyon。　The　climb　out　was　hard　on　Slone；　if　not　on　Nagger。
Once　up；　Slone　found　himself　upon　a　wide；　barren　plateau　of　glaring　red　rock
and　clumps　of　greasewood　and　cactus。　The　plateau　was　miles　wide；　shut　in　by
great　walls　and　mesas　of　colored　rock。　The　afternoon　sun　beat　down　fiercely。　A
blast　of　wind；　as　if　from　a　furnace；　swept　across　the　plateau；　and　it　was
laden　with　red　dust。　Slone　walked　here；　where　he　could　have　ridden。　And　he
made　several　miles　of　up…and…down　progress　over　this　rough　plateau。　The　great
walls　of　the　opposite　side　of　the　canyon　loomed　appreciably　closer。　What；
Slone　wondered；　was　at　the　bottom　of　this　rent　in　the　earth？　The　great　desert
river　was　down　there；　of　course；　but　he　knew　nothing　of　it。　Would　that　turn
back　Wildfire？　Slone　thought　grimly　how　he　had　always　claimed　Nagger　to　be
part　fish　and　part　bird。　Wildfire　was　not　going　to　escape。

By　and　by　only　isolated　mescal　plants　with　long；　yellow…plumed　spears　broke
the　bare　monotony　of　the　plateau。　And　Slone　passed　from　red　sand　and　gravel　to
a　red；　soft　shale；　and　from　that　to　hard；　red　rock。　Here　Wildfire's　tracks
were　lost；　the　first　time　in　seven　weeks。　But　Slone　had　his　direction　down
that　plateau　with　the　cleavage　lines　of　canyons　to　right　and　left。　At　times
Slone　found　a　vestige　of　the　old　Indian　trail；　and　this　made　him　doubly　sure
of　being　right。　He　did　not　need　to　have　Wildfire's　tracks。　He　let　Nagger　pick
the　way；　and　the　horse　made　no　mistake　in　finding　the　line　of　least
resistance。　But　that　grew　harder　and　harder。　This　bare　rock；　like　a　file；
would　soon　wear　Wildfire's　hoofs　thin。　And　Slone　rejoiced。　Perhaps　somewhere
down　in　this　awful　chasm　he　and　Nagger　would　have　it　out　with　the　stallion。
Slone　began　to　look　far　ahead；　beginning　to　believe　that　he　might　see
Wildfire。　Twice　he　had　seen　Wildfire；　but　only　at　a　distance。　Then　he　had
resembled　a　running　streak　of　fire；　whence　his　name；　which　Slone　had　given
him。

This　bare　region　of　rock　began　to　be　cut　up　into　gullies。　It　was　necessary　to
head　them　or　to　climb　in　and　out。　Miles　of　travel　really　meant　little　progress
straight　ahead。　But　Slone　kept　on。　He　was　hot　and　Nagger　was　hot；　and　that
made　hard　work　easier。　Sometimes　on　the　wind　came　a　low　thunder。　Was　it　a
storm　or　an　avalanche　slipping　or　falling　water？　He　could　not　tell。　The　sound
was　significant　and　haunting。

Of　one　thing　he　was　surethat　he　could　not　have　found　his　back…trail。　But　he
divined　he　was　never　to　retrace　his　steps　on　this　journey。　The　stretch　of
broken　plateau　before　him　grew　wilder　and　bolder　of　outline；　darker　in　color；
weirder　in　aspect；　and　progress　across　it　grew　slower；　more　dangerous。　There
were　many　places　Nagger　should　not　have　been　put　towhere　a　slip　meant　a
broken　leg。　But　Slone　could　not　turn　back。　And　something　besides　an
indomitable　spirit　kept　him　going。　Again　the　sound　resembling　thunder　assailed
his　ears；　louder　this　time。　The　plateau　appeared　to　be　ending　in　a　series　of
great　capes　or　promontories。　Slone　feared　he　would　soon　come　out　upon　a
promontory　from　which　he　might　see　the　impossibility　of　further　travel。　He
felt　relieved　down　in　the　gullies；　where　he　could　not　see　far。　He　climbed　out
of　one；　presently；　from　which　there　extended　a　narrow　ledge　with　a　slant　too
perilous　for　any　horse。　He　stepped　out　upon　that　with　far　less　confidence　than
Nagger。　To　the　right　was　a　bulge　of　low　wall；　and　a　few　feet　to　the　left　a
dark　precipice。　The　trail　here　was　faintly　outlined；　and　it　was　six　inches
wide　and　slanting　as　well。　It　seemed　endless　to　Slone；　that　ledge。　He　looked
only　down　at　his　feet　and　listened　to　Nagger's　steps。　The　big　horse　trod
carefully；　but　naturally；　and　he　did　not　slip。　That　ledge　extended　in　a　long
curve；　turning　slowly　away　from　the　precipice；　and　ascending　a　little　at　the
further　end。　Slone；　drew　a　deep　breath　of　relief　when　he　led　Nagger　up　on
level　rock。

Suddenly　a　strange　yet　familiar　sound　halted　Slone；　as　if　he　had　been　struck。
The　wild；　shrill；　high…pitched；　piercing　whistle　of　a　stallion！　Nagger　neighed
a　blast　in　reply　and　pounded　the　rock　with　his　iron…shod　hoofs。　With　a　thrill
Slone　looked　ahead。

There；　some　few　hundred　yards　distant；　on　a　promontory；　stood　a　red　horse。

〃My　Lord！　。　。　。　It's　Wildfire！〃　breathed　Slone；　tensely。

He　could　not　believe　his　sight。　He　imagined　he　was　dreaming。　But　as　Nagger
stamped　and　snorted　defiance　Slone　looked　with　fixed　and　keen　gaze；　and　knew
that　beautiful　picture　was　no　lie。

Wildfire　was　as　red　as　fire。　His　long　mane；　wild　in　the　wind；　was　like　a
whipping；　black…streaked　flame。　Silhouetted　there　against　that　canyon
background　he　seemed　gigantic；　a　demon　horse；　ready　to　plunge　into　fiery
depths。　He　was　looking　back　over　his　shoulder；　his　head　very　high；　and　every
line　of　him　was　instinct　with　wildness。　Again　he　sent　out　that　shrill；
air…splitting　whistle。　Slone　understood　it　to　be　a　clarion　call　to　Nagger。　If
Nagger　had　been　alone　Wildfire　would　have　killed　him。　The　red　stallion　was　a
killer　of　horses。　All　over　the　Utah　ranges　he　had　left　the　trail　of　a
murderer。　Nagger　understood　this；　too；　for　he　whistled　back　in　rage　and
terror。　It　took　an　iron　arm　to　hold　him。　Then　Wildfire　plunged；　apparently
down；　and　vanished　from　Slone's　sight。

Slone　hurried　onward；　to　be　blocked　by　a　huge　crack　in　the　rocky　plateau。　This
he　had　to　head。　And　then　another　and　like　obstacle　checked　his　haste　to　reach
that　promontory。　He　was　forced　to　go　more　slowly。　Wildfire　had　been　close　on