wildfire-第13部分

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that　promontory。　He　was　forced　to　go　more　slowly。　Wildfire　had　been　close　only
as　to　sight。　And　this　was　the　great　canyon　that　dwarfed　distance　and　magnified
proximity。　Climbing　down　and　up；　toiling　on；　he　at　last　learned　patience。　He
had　seen　Wildfire　at　close　range。　That　was　enough。　So　he　plodded　on；　once　more
returning　to　careful　regard　of　Nagger。　It　took　an　hour　of　work　to　reach　the
point　where　Wildfire　had　disappeared。

A　promontory　indeed　it　was；　overhanging　a　valley　a　thousand　feet　below。　A
white　torrent　of　a　stream　wound　through　it。　There　were　lines　of　green
cottonwoods　following　the　winding　course。　Then　Slone　saw　Wildfire　slowly
crossing　the　flat　toward　the　stream。　He　had　gone　down　that　cliff；　which　to
Slone　looked　perpendicular。

Wildfire　appeared　to　be　walking　lame。　Slone；　making　sure　of　this；　suffered　a
pang。　Then；　when　the　significance　of　such　lameness　dawned　upon　him　he　whooped
his　wild　joy　and　waved　his　hat。　The　red　stallion　must　have　heard；　for　he
looked　up。　Then　he　went　on　again　and　waded　into　the　stream；　where　he　drank
long。　When　he　started　to　cross；　the　swift　current　drove　him　back　in　several
places。　The　water　wreathed　white　around　him。　But　evidently　it　was　not　deep；
and　finally　he　crossed。　From　the　other　side　he　looked　up　again　at　Nagger　and
Slone；　and；　going　on；　he　soon　was　out　of　sight　in　the　cottonwoods。

〃How　to　get　down！〃　muttered　Slone。

There　was　a　break　in　the　cliff　wall；　a　bare　stone　slant　where　horses　had　gone
down　and　come　up。　That　was　enough　for　Slone　to　know。　He　would　have　attempted
the　descent　if　he　were　sure　no　other　horse　but　Wildfire　had　ever　gone　down
there。　But　Slone's　hair　began　to　rise　stiff　on　his　head。　A　horse　like
Wildfire；　and　mountain　sheep　and　Indian　ponies；　were　all　very　different　from
Nagger。　The　chances　were　against　Nagger。

〃Come　on；　old　boy。　If　I　can　do　it；　you　can；〃　he　said。

Slone　had　never　seen　a　trail　as　perilous　as　this。　He　was　afraid　for　his　horse。
A　slip　there　meant　death。　The　way　Nagger　trembled　in　every　muscle　showed　his
feelings。　But　he　never　flinched。　He　would　follow　Slone　anywhere；　providing
Slone　rode　him　or　led　him。　And　here；　as　riding　was　impossible；　Slone　went
before。　If　the　horse　slipped　there　would　be　a　double　tragedy；　for　Nagger　would
knock　his　master　off　the　cliff。　Slone　set　his　teeth　and　stepped　down。　He　did
not　let　Nagger　see　his　fear。　He　was　taking　the　greatest　risk　he　had　ever　run。

The　break　in　the　wall　led　to　a　ledge；　and　the　ledge　dropped　from　step　to　step；
and　these　had　bare；　slippery　slants　between。　Nagger　was　splendid　on　a　bad
trail。　He　had　methods　peculiar　to　his　huge　build　and　great　weight。　He　crashed
down　over　the　stone　steps；　both　front　hoofs　at　once。　The　slants　he　slid　down
on　his　haunches　with　his　forelegs　stiff　and　the　iron　shoes　scraping。　He
snorted　and　heaved　and　grew　wet　with　sweat。　He　tossed　his　head　at　some　of　the
places。　But　he　never　hesitated　and　it　was　impossible　for　him　to　go　slowly。
Whenever　Slone　came　to　corrugated　stretches　in　the　trail　he　felt　grateful。　But
these　were　few。　The　rock　was　like　smooth　red　iron。　Slone　had　never　seen　such
hard　rock。　It　took　him　long　to　realize　that　it　was　marble。　His　heart　seemed　a
tense；　painful　knot　in　his　breast；　as　if　it　could　not　beat；　holding　back　in
the　strained　suspense。　But　Nagger　never　jerked　on　the　bridle。　He　never
faltered。　Many　times　he　slipped；　often　with　both　front　feet；　but　never　with
all　four　feet。　So　he　did　not　fall。　And　the　red　wall　began　to　loom　above　Slone。
Then　suddenly　he　seemed　brought　to　a　point　where　it　was　impossible　to　descend。
It　was　a　round　bulge；　slanting　fearfully；　with　only　a　few　little　rough
surfaces　to　hold　a　foot。　Wildfire　had　left　a　broad；　clear…swept　mark　at　that
place；　and　red　hairs　on　some　of　the　sharp　points。　He　had　slid　down。　Below　was
an　offset　that　fortunately　prevented　further　sliding；　Slone　started　to　walk
down　this　place；　but　when　Nagger　began　to　slide　Slone　had　to　let　go　the　bridle
and　jump。　Both　he　and　the　horse　landed　safely。　Luck　was　with　them。　And　they
went　on；　down　and　down；　to　reach　the　base　of　the　great　wall；　scraped　and
exhausted；　wet　with　sweat；　but　unhurt。　As　Slone　gazed　upward　he　felt　the
impossibility　of　believing　what　he　knew　to　be　true。　He　hugged　and　petted　the
horse。　Then　he　led　on　to　the　roaring　stream。

It　was　green　water　white　with　foam。　Slone　waded　in　and　found　the　water　cool
and　shallow　and　very　swift。　He　had　to　hold　to　Nagger　to　keep　from　being　swept
downstream。　They　crossed　in　safety。　There　in　the　sand　showed　Wildfire's
tracks。　And　here　were　signs　of　another　Indian　camp；　half　a　year　old。

The　shade　of　the　cottonwoods　was　pleasant。　Slone　found　this　valley
oppressively　hot。　There　was　no　wind　and　the　sand　blistered　his　feet　through
his　boots。　Wildfire　held　to　the　Indian　trail　that　had　guided　him　down　into
this　wilderness　of　worn　rock。　And　that　trail　crossed　the　stream　at　every　turn
of　the　twisting；　narrow　valley。　Slone　enjoyed　getting　into　the　water。　He　hung
his　gun　over　the　pommel　and　let　the　water　roll　him。　A　dozen　times　he　and
Nagger　forded　the　rushing　torrent。　Then　they　came　to　a　box…like　closing　of　the
valley　to　canyon　walls；　and　here　the　trail　evidently　followed　the　stream　bed。
There　was　no　other　way。　Slone　waded　in；　and　stumbled；　rolled；　and　floated
ahead　of　the　sturdy　horse。　Nagger　was　wet　to　his　breast；　but　he　did　not　fall。
This　gulch　seemed　full　of　a　hollow　rushing　roar。　It　opened　out　into　a　wide
valley。　And　Wildfire's　tracks　took　to　the　left　side　and　began　to　climb　the
slope。

Here　the　traveling　was　good；　considering　what　had　been　passed。　Once　up　out　of
the　valley　floor　Slone　saw　Wildfire　far　ahead；　high　on　the　slope。　He　did　not
appear　to　be　limping；　but　he　was　not　going　fast。　Slone　watched　as　he　climbed。
What　and　where　would　be　the　end　of　this　chase？

Sometimes　Wildfire　was　plain　in　his　sight　for　a　moment；　but　usually　he　was
hidden　by　rocks。　The　slope　was　one　great　talus；　a　jumble　of　weathered　rock；
fallen　from　what　appeared　a　mountain　of　red　and　yellow　wall。　Here　the　heat　of
the　sun　fell　upon　him　like　fire。　The　rocks　were　so　hot　Slone　could　not　touch
them　with　bare　hand。　The　close　of　the　afternoon　was　approaching；　and　this
slope　was　interminably　long。　Still；　it　was　not　steep；　and　the　trail　was　good。

At　last　from　the　height　of　slope　Wildfire　appeared；　looking　back　and　down。
Then　he　was　gone。　Slone　plodded　upward。　Long　before　he　reached　that　summit　be
heard　the　dull　rumble　of　the　river。　It　grew　to　be　a　roar；　yet　it　seemed
distant。　Would　the　great　desert　river　stop　Wildfire　in　his　flight？　Slone
doubted　it。　He　surmounted　the　ridge；　to　find　the　canyon　opening　in　a
tremendous　gap；　and　to　see　down；　far　down；　a　glittering；　sun…blasted　slope
merging　into　a　deep；　black　gulch　where　a　red　river　swept　and　chafed　and
roared。

Somehow　the　river　was　what　he　had　expected　to　see。　A　force　that　had　cut　and
ground　this　canyon　could　have　been　nothing　but　a　river　like　that。　The　trail
led　down；　and　Slone　had　no　doubt　that　it　crossed　the　river　and　led　up　out　of
the　canyon。　He　wanted　to　stay　there　and　gaze　endlessly　and　listen。　At　length
he　began　the　descent。　As　he　proceeded　it　seemed　that　the　roar　of　the　river
lessened。　He　could　not　understand　why　this　was　so。　It　took　half　an　hour　to
reach　the　last　level；　a　ghastly；　black；　and　iron…ribbed　canyon　bed；　with　the
river　splitting　it。　He　had　not　had　a　glimpse　of　Wildfire　on　this　side　of　the
divide；　but　he　found　his　tracks；　and　they　led　down　off　the　last　level；　through
a　notch　in　the　black　bank　of　marble　to　a　sand…bar　and　the　river。

Wildfire　had　walked　straight　off　the　sand　into　the　water。　Slone　studied　the
river　and　shore。　The　water　ran　slow；　heavily；　in　sluggish　eddies。　From　far　up
the　canyon　came　the　roar　of　a　rapid；　and　from　below　the　roar　of　another；
heavier　and　closer。　The　river　appeared　tremendous；　in　ways　Slone　felt　rather
than　realized；　yet　it　was　not　swift。　Studying　the　black；　rough　wall　of　rock
above　him；　he　saw　marks　where　the　river　had　been　sixty　feet　higher　than　where
he　stood　on　the　sand。　It　was　low；　then。　How　lucky　for　him　that　he　had　gotten
there　before　flood　season！　He　believed　Wildfire　had　crossed　easily；　and　he
knew　Nagger　could　make　it。　Then　he　piled　and　tied　his　supplies　and　weapons
high　on　the　saddle；　to　keep　them　dry；　and　looked　for　a　place　to　take　to　the
water。

Wildfire　had　sunk　deep　before　reaching　the　edge。　Manifestly　he　had　lunged　the
last　few　feet。　Slone　found　a　better　place；　and　waded　in；　urging　Nagger。　The
big　horse　plunged；　almost　going　under；　and　began　to　swim。　Slone　kept　up…stream
beside　him。　He　found；　presently；　that　the　water　was　thick　and　made　him　tired；
so　it　was　necessary　to　grasp　a　stirrup　and　be　towed。　The　river　appeared　only　a
few　hundred　feet　wide；　but　probably　it　was　wider　than　it　looked。　Nagger
labored　heavily　near　the　opposite　shore；　still；　he　landed　safely　upon　a　rocky
bank。　There　were　patches　of　sand　in　which　Wildfire's　tracks　showed　so　fresh
that　the　water　had　not　yet　dried　out　of　them。

Slone　rested　his　horse　before　attempting　to　climb　out　of　that　split　in　the
rock。　However；　Wildfire　had　found　an　easy　ascent。　On　this　side　of　the　canyon
the　bare　rock　did　not　predominate。　A　clear　trail　led　up　a　dusty；　gravelly
slope；　upon　which　scant　greasewood　and　cactus　appeared。　Half　an　hour's
climbing　brought　Slone　to　where　he　could　see　that　he　was　entering　a　vast
valley；　sloping　up　and　narrowing　to　a　notch　in　the　dark　cliffs；　above　which
towered　the　great　red　wall　and　about　that　the　slopes　of　cedar　and　the　yellow
rim…rock。

And　scarcely　a　mile　distant；　bright　in　the　westering　sunlight；　shone　the　red
stallion；　moving　slowly。

Slone　pressed　on　steadily。　Just　before　dark　he　came　to　an　ideal　spot　to　camp。
The　valley　had　closed　up；　so　that　the　lofty　walls　cast　shadows　that　met。　A
clump　of　cottonwoods　surrounding　a　spring；　abundance　of　rich　grass；　willows
and　flowers　lining　the　banks；　formed　an　oasis　in　the　bare　valley。　Slone　was
tired　out　from　the　day　of　ceaseless　toil　down　and　up；　and　he　could　scarcely
keep　his　eyes　open。　But　he　tried　to　stay　awake。　The　dead　silence　of　the
valley；　the　dry　fragrance；　the　dreaming　walls；　the　advent　of　night　low　down；
when　up　on　the　ramparts　the　last　red　rays　of　the　sun　lingered；　the　strange
lone