wildfire-第16部分

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light；　so　he　had　no　difficulty　in　traveling。

From　time　to　time　his　horse　went　through　grass；　and　its　dry；　crackling　rustle；
showing　how　it　would　burn；　was　music　to　Slone。　Gradually　the　monuments　began
to　loom　up；　bold　and　black　against　the　blue　sky；　with　stars　seemingly　hanging
close　over　them。　Slone　had　calculated　that　the　basin　was　smaller　than　it
really　was；　in　both　length　and　breadth。　This　worried　him。　Wildfire　might　see
or　hear　or　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　floor　was　level　and　thickly　overgrown　with　long；　dead　grass　and
dead　greasewood；　as　dry　as　tinder。　It　was　easy　to　account　for　the　dryness；
neither　snow　nor　rain　had　visited　that　valley　for　many　months。　Slone　whipped
one　of　the　sticks　in　the　wind　and　soon　had　the　smoldering　end　red　and
showering　sparks。　Then　he　dropped　the　stick　in　the　grass；　with　curious　intent
and　a　strange　feeling　of　regret。

Instantly　the　grass　blazed　with　a　little　sputtering　roar。　Nagger　snorted。
〃Wildfire！〃　exclaimed　Slone。　That　word　was　a　favorite　one　with　riders；　and　now
Slone　used　it　both　to　call　out　his　menace　to　the　stallion　and　to　express　his
feeling　for　that　blaze；　already　running　wild。

Without　looking　back　Slone　rode　across　the　valley；　dropping　a　glowing　stick
every　quarter　of　a　mile。　When　he　reached　the　other　side　there　were　a　dozen
fires　behind　him；　burning　slowly；　with　white　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　experienced　relief　and　exultation。　He　took　up　a　position　in　the　middle
of　the　narrowest　part　of　the　pass；　and　there；　with　Nagger　ready　for　anything；
he　once　more　composed　himself　to　watch　and　wait。

Far　across　the　darkness　of　the　valley；　low　down；　twelve　lines　of　fire；　widely
separated；　crept　toward　one　another。　They　appeared　thin　and　slow；　with　only　an
occasional　leaping　flame。　And　some　of　the　black　spaces　must　have　been
monuments；　blotting　out　the　creeping　snail…lines　of　red。　Slone　watched；
strangely　fascinated。

〃What　do　you　think　of　that？〃　he　said；　aloud；　and　he　meant　his　query　for
Wildfire。

As　he　watched　the　lines　perceptibly　lengthened　and　brightened　and　pale　shadows
of　smoke　began　to　appear。　Over　at　the　left　of　the　valley　the　two　brightest
fires；　the　first　he　had　started；　crept　closer　and　closer　together。　They　seemed
long　in　covering　distance。　But　not　a　breath　of　wind　stirred；　and　besides　they
really　might　move　swiftly；　without　looking　so　to　Slone。　When　the　two　lines　met
a　sudden　and　larger　blaze　rose。

〃Ah！〃　said　the　rider；　and　then　he　watched　the　other　lines　creeping　together。
How　slowly　fire　moved；　he　thought。　The　red　stallion　would　have　every　chance　to
run　between　those　lines；　if　he　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　night　dragged
past　until　at　length　one　long；　continuous　line　of　fire　spread　level　across　the
valley；　its　bright；　red　line　broken　only　where　the　monuments　of　stone　were
silhouetted　against　it。

The　darkness　of　the　valley　changed。　The　light　of　the　moon　changed。　The
radiance　of　the　stars　changed。　Either　the　line　of　fire　was　finding　denser　fuel
to　consume　or　it　was　growing　appreciably　closer；　for　the　flames　began　to　grow；
to　leap；　and　to　flare。

Slone　strained　his　ears　for　the　thud　of　hoofs　on　sand。

The　time　seemed　endless　in　its　futility　of　results；　but　fleeting　after　it　had
passed；　and　he　could　tell　how　the　hours　fled　by　the　ever…recurring　need　to
replenish　the　little　fire　he　kept　burning　in　the　pass。

A　broad　belt　of　valley　grew　bright　in　the　light；　and　behind　it　loomed　the
monuments；　weird　and　dark；　with　columns　of　yellow　and　white　smoke　wreathing
them。

Suddenly　Slone's　sensitive　ear　vibrated　to　a　thrilling　sound。　He　leaned　down
to　place　his　ear　to　the　sand。　Rapid；　rhythmic　beat　of　hoofs　made　him　leap　to
his　feet；　reaching　for　his　lasso　with　right　hand　and　a　gun　with　his　left。

Nagger　lifted　his　head；　sniffed　the　air；　and　snorted。　Slone　peered　into　the
black　belt　of　gloom　that　lay　below　him。　It　would　be　hard　to　see　a　horse　there；
unless　he　got　high　enough　to　be　silhouetted　against　that　line　of　fire　now
flaring　to　the　sky。　But　he　heard　the　beat　of　hoofs；　swift；　sharp；
louderlouder。　The　night　shadows　were　deceptive。　That　wonderful　light
confused　him；　made　the　place　unreal。　Was　he　dreaming？　Or　had　the　long　chase
and　his　privations　unhinged　his　mind？　He　reached　for　Nagger。　No！　The　big　black
was　real；　alive；　quivering；　pounding　the　sand。　He　scented　an　enemy。

Once　more　Slone　peered　down　into　the　void　or　what　seemed　a　void。　But　it；　too；
had　changed；　lightened。　The　whole　valley　was　brightening。　Great　palls　of
curling　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　never　seen；　except　in　dreams。　Pale　moonlight　and　dimmed　starlight
and　wan　dawn　all　vague　and　strange　and　shadowy　under　the　wild　and　vivid　light
of　burning　grass。

In　the　pale　path　before　Slone；　that　fanlike　slope　of　sand　which　opened　down
into　the　valley；　appeared　a　swiftly　moving　black　object；　like　a　fleeting
phantom。　It　was　a　phantom　horse。　Slone　felt　that　his　eyes；　deceived　by　his
mind；　saw　racing　images。　Many　a　wild　chase　he　had　lived　in　dreams　on　some　far
desert。　But　what　was　that　beating　in　his　earssharp；　swift；　even；　rhythmic？
Never　had　his　ears　played　him　false。　Never　had　he　heard　things　in　his　dreams。
That　running　object　was　a　horse　and　he　was　coming　like　the　wind。　Slone　felt
something　grip　his　heart。　All　the　time　and　endurance　and　pain　and　thirst　and
suspense　and　longing　and　hopelessnessthe　agony　of　the　whole　endless　chase
closed　tight　on　his　heart　in　that　instant。

The　running　horse　halted　just　in　the　belt　of　light　cast　by　the　burning　grass。
There　he　stood　sharply　defined；　clear　as　a　cameo；　not　a　hundred　paces　from
Slone。　It　was　Wildfire。

Slone　uttered　an　involuntary　cry。　Thrill　on　thrill　shot　through　him。　Delight
and　hope　and　fear　and　despair　claimed　him　in　swift；　successive　flashes。　And
then　again　the　ruling　passion　of　a　rider　held　himthe　sheer　glory　of　a　grand
and　unattainable　horse。　For　Slone　gave　up　Wildfire　in　that　splendid　moment。
How　had　he　ever　dared　to　believe　he　could　capture　that　wild　stallion？　Slone
looked　and　looked；　filling　his　mind；　regretting　nothing；　sure　that　the　moment
was　reward　for　all　he　had　endured。

The　weird　lights　magnified　Wildfire　and　showed　him　clearly。　He　seemed
gigantic。　He　shone　black　against　the　fire。　His　head　was　high；　his　mane　flying。
Behind　him　the　fire　flared　and　the　valley…wide　column　of　smoke　rolled
majestically　upward；　and　the　great　monuments　seemed　to　retreat　darkly　and
mysteriously　as　the　flames　advanced　beyond　them。　It　was　a　beautiful；　unearthly
spectacle；　with　its　silence　the　strangest　feature。

But　suddenly　Wildfire　broke　that　silence　with　a　whistle　which　to　Slone's
overstrained　faculties　seemed　a　blast　as　piercing　as　the　splitting　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　he　could　terrorize　the
stallion　and　drive　him　back　down　the　slope。　Soon　Wildfire　became　again　a
running　black　object；　and　then　he　disappeared。

The　great　line　of　fire　had　gotten　beyond　the　monuments　and　now　stretched
unbroken　across　the　valley　from　wall　to　slope。　Wildfire　could　never　pierce
that　line　of　flames。　And　now　Slone　saw；　in　the　paling　sky　to　the　east；　that
dawn　was　at　hand。



CHAPTER　VII

Slone　looked　grimly　glad　when　simultaneously　with　the　first　red　flash　of
sunrise　a　breeze　fanned　his　cheek。　All　that　was　needed　now　was　a　west　wind。
And　here　came　the　assurance　of　it。

The　valley　appeared　hazy　and　smoky；　with　slow；　rolling　clouds　low　down　where
the　line　of　fire　moved。　The　coming　of　daylight　paled　the　blaze　of　the　grass；
though　here　and　there　Slone　caught　flickering　glimpses　of　dull　red　flame。　The
wild　stallion　kept　to　the　center　of　the　valley；　restlessly　facing　this　way　and
that；　but　never　toward　the　smoke。　Slone　made　sure　that　Wildfire　gradually　gave
ground　as　the　line　of　smoke　slowly　worked　toward　him。

Every　moment　the　breeze　freshened；　grew　steadier　and　stronger；　until　Slone　saw
that　it　began　to　clear　the　valley　of　the　low…hanging　smoke。　There　came　a　time
when　once　more　the　blazing　line　extended　across　from　slope　to　slope。

Wildfire　was　cornered；　trapped。　Many　times　Slone　nervously　uncoiled　and
recoiled　his　lasso。　Presently　the　great　chance　of　his　life　would　comethe
hardest　and　most　important　throw　he　would　ever　have　with　a　rope。　He　did　not
miss　often；　but　then　he　missed　sometimes；　and　here　he　must　be　swift　and　sure。
It　annoyed　him　that　his　hands　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　desperate　rush　past　him；
and　he　had　his　plan　of　action　all　outlined。　What　worried　him　was　the
possibility　of　Wildfire　doing　some　unforeseen　feat　at　the　very　last。　Slone　was
prepared　for　hours　of　strained　watching；　and　then　a　desperate　effort；　and　then
a　shock　that　might　kill　Wildfire　and　cripple　Nagger；　or　a　long　race　and　fight。

But　he　soon　discovered　that　he　was　wrong　about　the　long　watch　and　wait。　The
wind　had　grown　strong　and　was　driving　the　fire　swiftly。　The　flames；　fanned　by
the　breeze；　leaped　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　neck　of　the　valley；　and　he　had　begun　to　run；