wildfire-第50部分

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tracks　of　a　third　mantracks　made　this　mornin'。〃

Bostil　straightened　up　and　faced　Holley　as　if　ready　to　take　a　death…blow。　〃I'm
reckonin'　them　last　is　Slone's　tracks。〃

〃Yes；　I　know　them；〃　replied　Holley。

〃An'themother　tracks？　Who　made　them？〃

〃CREECH　AN'　HIS　SON！〃

Bostil　felt　swept　away　by　a　dark；　whirling　flame。　And　when　it　passed　he　lay　in
his　barn；　in　the　shade　of　the　loft；　prostrate　on　the　fragrant　hay。　His
strength　with　his　passion　was　spent。　A　dull　ache　remained。　The　fight　was　gone
from　him。　His　spirit　was　broken。　And　he　looked　down　into　that　dark　abyss　which
was　his　own　soul。

By　and　by　the　riders　came　for　him；　got　him　up；　and　led　him　out。　He　shook　them
off　and　stood　breathing　slowly。　The　air　felt　refreshing；　it　cooled　his　hot；
tired　brain。　It　did　not　surprise　him　to　see　Joel　Creech　there；　cringing　behind
Holley。

Bostil　lifted　a　hand　for　some　one　to　speak。　And　Holley　came　a　step　forward。
His　face　was　haggard；　but　its　white　tenseness　was　gone。　He　seemed　as　if　he
were　reluctant　to　speak；　to　inflict　more　pain。

〃Bostil；〃　he　began；　huskily；　〃you're　to　send　the　Kingan'　Sarchan'　Ben　an'
Two　Face　an'　Plume　to　ransom　Lucy！　。　。　。　If　you　won'tthen　Creech'll　sell　her
to　Cordts！〃

What　a　strange　look　came　into　the　faces　of　the　riders！　Did；　they　think　he
cared　more　for　horseflesh　than　for　his　own　flesh　and　blood？

〃Send　the　Kingan'　all　he　wants。　。　。　。　An'　send　word　fer　Creech　to　come　back
to　the　Ford。　。　。　。　Tell　him　I　saidmy　sin　found　me　out！〃

Bostil　watched　Joel　Creech　ride　the　King　out　upon　the　slope；　driving　the
others　ahead。　Sage　King　wanted　to　run。　Sarchedon　was　wild　and　unruly。　They
passed　out　of　sight。　Then　Bostil　turned　to　his　silent　riders。

〃Boys；　seein'　the　King　go　thet　way　wasn't　nothin'。　。　。　。　But　what　crucifies　me
isWILL　THET　FETCH　HER　BACK？〃

〃God　only　knows！〃　replied　Holley。　〃Mebbe　notI　reckon　not！　。　。　。　But；　Bostil；
you　forget　Slone　is　out　there　on　Lucy's　trail。　Out　there　ahead　of　Joel！　Slone
he's　a　wild…hoss　hunterthe　keenest　I　ever　seen。　Do　you　think　Creech　can
shake　him　on　a　trail？　He'll　kill　Creech；　an'　he'll　lay　fer　Joel　goin'
backan'　he'll　kill　him。　。　。　。　An'　I'll　bet　my　all　he'll　ride　in　here　with
Lucy　an'　the　King！〃

〃Holley；　you　ain't　figurin'　on　thet　red　hoss　of　Slone's　ridin'　down　the　King？〃

Holley　laughed　as　if　Bostil's　query　was　the　strangest　thing　of　all　that
poignant　day。　〃Naw。　Slone'll　lay　fer　Joel　an'　rope　him　like　he　roped　Dick
Sears。〃

〃Holley；　I　reckon　you　seeclearer　'n　me；〃　said　Bostil；　plaintively。　〃'Pears
as　if　I　never　had　a　hard　knock　before。　Fer　my　nerve's　broke。　I　can't　hope。　。　。
。　Lucy's　gone！　。　。　。　Ain't　there　anythin'　to　do　but　wait？〃

〃Thet's　all。　Jest　wait。　If　we　went　out　on　Joel's　trail　we'd　queer　the　chance
of　Creech's　bein'　honest。　An'　we'd　queer　Slone's　game。　I'd　hate　to　have　him
trailin'　me。〃



CHAPTER　XVIII

On　the　day　that　old　Creech　repudiated　his　son；　Slone　with　immeasurable　relief
left　Brackton's　without　even　a　word　to　the　rejoicing　Holley；　and　plodded　up
the　path　to　his　cabin。

After　the　first　flush　of　elation　had　passed　he　found　a　peculiar　mood　settling
down　upon　him。　It　was　as　if　all　was　not　so　well　as　he　had　impulsively
conceived。　He　began　to　ponder　over　this　strange　depression；　to　think　back。
What　had　happened　to　dash　the　cup　from　his　lips？　Did　he　regret　being　freed
from　guilt　in　the　simple　minds　of　the　villagers　regret　it　because　suspicion
would　fall　upon　Lucy's　father？　No；　he　was　sorry　for　the　girl；　but　not　for
Bostil。　It　was　not　this　new　aspect　of　the　situation　at　the　Ford　that　oppressed
him。

He　trailed　his　vague　feelings　back　to　a　subtle　shock　he　had　sustained　in　a
last　look　at　Creech's　dark；　somber　face。　It　had　been　the　face　of　a　Nemesis。
All　about　Creech　breathed　silent；　revengeful　force。　Slone　worked　out　in　his
plodding　thought　why　that　fact　should　oppress　him；　and　it　was　because　in
striking　Bostil　old　Creech　must　strike　through　Bostil's　horses　and　his
daughter。

Slone　divined　itdivined　it　by　the　subtle；　intuitive　power　of　his　love　for
Lucy。　He　did　not　reconsider　what　had　been　his　supposition　before　Creech's
returnthat　Creech　would　kill　Bostil。　Death　would　be　no　revenge。　Creech　had
it　in　him　to　steal　the　King　and　starve　him　or　to　do　the　same　and　worse　with
Lucy。　So　Slone　imagined；　remembering　Creech's　face。

Before　twilight　set　in　Slone　saw　the　Creeches　riding　out　of　the　lane　into　the
sage；　evidently　leaving　the　Ford。　This　occasioned　Slone　great　relief；　but　only
for　a　moment。　What　the　Creeches　appeared　to　be　doing　might　not　be　significant。
And　he　knew　if　they　had　stayed　in　the　village　that　he　would　have　watched　them
as　closely　as　if　he　thought　they　were　trying　to　steal　Wildfire。

He　got　his　evening　meal；　cared　for　his　horses；　and　just　as　darkness　came　on　he
slipped　down　into　the　grove　for　his　rendezvous　with　Lucy。　Always　this　made　his
heart　beat　and　his　nerves　thrill；　but　to…night　he　was　excited。　The　grove
seemed　full　of　moving　shadows；　all　of　which　he　fancied　were　Lucy。　Reaching　the
big　cottonwood；　he　tried　to　compose　himself　on　the　bench　to　wait。　But
composure　seemed　unattainable。　The　night　was　still；　only　the　crickets　and　the
soft　rustle　of　leaves　breaking　a　dead　silence。　Slone　had　the　ears　of　a　wild
horse　in　that　he　imagined　sounds　he　did　not　really　hear。　Many　a　lonely　night
while　he　lay　watching　and　waiting　in　the　dark；　ambushing　a　water…hole　where
wild　horses　drank；　he　had　heard　soft　treads　that　were　only　the　substance　of
dreams。　That　was　why；　on　this　night　when　he　was　overstrained；　he　fancied　he
saw　Lucy　coming；　a　silent；　moving　shadow；　when　in　reality　she　did　not　come。
That　was　why　he　thought　he　heard　very　stealthy　steps。

He　waited。　Lucy　did　not　come。　She　had　never　failed　before　and　he　knew　she
would　come。　Waiting　became　hard。　He　wanted　to　go　back　toward　the　houseto
intercept　her　on　the　way。　Still　he　kept　to　his　post；　watchful；　listening；　his
heart　full。　And　he　tried　to　reason　away　his　strange　dread；　his　sense　of　a　need
of　hurry。　For　a　time　he　succeeded　by　dreaming　of　Lucy's　sweetness；　of　her
courage；　of　what　a　wonderful　girl　she　was。　Hours　and　hours　he　had　passed　in
such　dreams。　One　dream　in　particular　always　fascinated　him；　and　it　was　one　in
which　he　saw　the　girl　riding　Wildfire；　winning　a　great　race　for　her　life。
Another；　just　as　fascinating；　but　so　haunting　that　he　always　dispelled　it；　was
a　dream　where　Lucy；　alone　and　in　peril；　fought　with　Cordts　or　Joel　Creech　for
more　than　her　life。　These　vague　dreams　were　Slone's　acceptance　of　the　blood
and　spirit　in　Lucy。　She　was　Bostil's　daughter。　She　had　no　sense　of　fear。　She
would　fight。　And　though　Slone　always　thrilled　with　pride；　he　also　trembled
with　dread。

At　length　even　wilder　dreams　of　Lucy's　rare　moments；　when　she　let　herself　go；
like　a　desert　whirlwind；　to　envelop　him　in　all　her　sweetness；　could　not　avail
to　keep　Slone　patient。　He　began　to　pace　to　and　fro　under　the　big　tree。　He
waited　and　waited。　What　could　have　detained　her？　Slone　inwardly　laughed　at　the
idea　that　either　Holley　or　Aunt　Jane　could　keep　his　girl　indoors　when　she
wanted　to　come　out　to　meet　him。　Yet　Lucy　had　always　said　something　might
prevent。　There　was　no　reason　for　Slone　to　be　concerned。　He　was　mistaking　his
thrills　and　excitement　and　love　and　disappointment　for　something　in　which
there　was　no　reality。　Yet　he　could　not　help　it。　The　longer　he　waited　the　more
shadows　glided　beneath　the　cottonwoods；　the　more　faint；　nameless　sounds　he
heard。

He　waited　long　after　he　became　convinced　she　would　not　come。　Upon　his　return
through　the　grove　he　reached　a　point　where　the　unreal　and　imaginative
perceptions　were　suddenly　and　stunningly　broken。　He　did　hear　a　step。　He　kept
on；　as　before；　and　in　the　deep　shadow　he　turned。　He　saw　a　man　just　faintly
outlined。　One　of　the　riders　had　been　watching　himhad　followed　him！　Slone　had
always　expected　this。　So　had　Lucy。　And　now　it　had　happened。　But　Lucy　had　been
too　clever。　She　had　not　come。　She　had　found　out　or　suspected　the　spy　and　she
had　outwitted　him。　Slone　had　reason　to　be　prouder　of　Lucy；　and　he　went　back　to
his　cabin　free　from　further　anxiety。

Before　he　went　to　sleep；　however；　he　heard　the　clatter　of　a　number　of　horses
in　the　lane。　He　could　tell　they　were　tired　horses。　Riders　returning；　he
thought；　and　instantly　corrected　that；　for　riders　seldom　came　in　at　night。　And
then　it　occurred　to　him　that　it　might　be　Bostil's　return。　But　then　it　might　be
the　Creeches。　Slone　had　an　uneasy　return　of　puzzling　thoughts。　These；　however；
did　not　hinder　drowsiness；　and；　deciding　that　the　first　thing　in　the　morning
he　would　trail　the　Creeches；　just　to　see　where　they　had　gone；　he　fell　asleep。

In　the　morning　the　bright；　broad　day；　with　its　dispelling　reality；　made　Slone
regard　himself　differently。　Things　that　oppressed　him　in　the　dark　of　night
vanished　in　the　light　of　the　sun。　Still；　he　was　curious　about　the　Creeches；
and　after　he　had　done　his　morning's　work　he　strolled　out　to　take　up　their
trail。　It　was　not　hard　to　follow　in　the　lane；　for　no　other　horses　had　gone　in
that　direction　since　the　Creeches　had　left。

Once　up　on　the　wide；　windy　slope　the　reach　and　color　and　fragrance　seemed　to
call　to　Slone　irresistibly；　and　he　fell　to　trailing　these　tracks　just　for　the
love　of　a　skill　long　unused。　Half　a　mile　out　the　road　turned　toward　Durango。
But　the　Creeches　did　not　continue　on　that　road。　They　entered　the　sage。
Instantly　Slone　became　curious。

He　followed　the　tracks　to　a　pile　of　rocks　where　the　Creeches　had　made　a
greasewood　fire　and　had　cooked　a　meal。　This　was　strangewithin　a　mile　of　the
Ford；　where　Brackton　and　others　would　have　housed　them。　What　was　stranger　was
the　fact　that　the　trail　started　south　from　there　and　swung　round　toward　the
village。

Slone's　heart　began　to　thump。　But　he　forced　himself　to　think　only　of　these
tracks　and　not　any　significance　they　might　have。　He　trailed　the　men　down　to　a
bench　on　the　slope；　a　few　hundred　yards　from　Bostil's　grove；　and　here　a
trampled　space　marked　where　a　halt　had　been　made　and　a　wait。

And　here　Slone　could　no　longer　restrain　conjecture　and　dread。　He　searched　and
searched。　He　got　on　his　knees。　He　crawled　through　the　sage　all　around　the
trampled　space。　Suddenly　his　heart　seemed　to　receive　a　stab。　He　had　found