wildfire-第53部分

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fair；　to　give　the　horse…thief　a　chance　for　his　life；　Slone　had　lost　Lucy's
trail。　The　fact　nearly　distracted　him。　He　spent　a　sleepless　night　of　torture。

All　next　day；　like　a　wild　man；　he　rode　and　climbed　and　descended；　spurred　by
one　purpose；　pursued　by　suspense　and　dread。　That　night　he　tied　Wildfire　near
water　and　grass　and　fell　into　the　sleep　of　exhaustion。

Morning　came。　But　with　it　no　hope。　He　had　been　desperate。　And　now　he　was　in　a
frightful　state。　It　seemed　that　days　and　days　had　passed；　and　nights　that　were
hideous　with　futile　nightmares。

He　rode　down　into　a　canyon　with　sloping　walls；　and　broken；　like　all　of　these
canyons　under　the　great　plateau。　Every　canyon　resembled　another。　The　upland
was　one　vast　network。　The　world　seemed　a　labyrinth　of　canyons　among　which　he
was　hopelessly　lost。　What　wouldwhat　had　become　of　Lucy？　Every　thought　in　his
whirling　brain　led　back　to　thatand　it　was　terrible。

Thenhe　was　gazing　transfixed　down　upon　the　familiar　tracks　left　by　Creech's
mustangs。　Days　old；　but　still　unfollowed！



CHAPTER　XIX

That　track　led　up　the　narrowing　canyon　to　its　head　at　the　base　of　the　plateau。

Slone；　mindful　of　his　horse；　climbed　on　foot；　halting　at　the　zigzag　turns　to
rest。　A　long；　gradually　ascending　trail　mounted　the　last　slope；　which　when
close　at　hand　was　not　so　precipitous　as　it　appeared　from　below。　Up　there　the
wind；　sucked　out　of　the　canyons；　swooped　and　twisted　hard。

At　last　Slone　led　Wildfire　over　the　rim　and　halted　for　another
breathing…spell。　Before　him　was　a　beautiful；　gently　sloping　stretch　of　waving
grass　leading　up　to　the　dark　pine　forest　from　which　came　a　roar　of　wind。
Beneath　Slone　the　wild　and　whorled　canyon　breaks　extended；　wonderful　in
thousands　of　denuded　surfaces；　gold　and　red　and　yellow；　with　the　smoky　depths
between。

Wildfire　sniffed　the　wind　and　snorted。　Slone　turned；　instantly　alert。　The　wild
horse　had　given　an　alarm。　Like　a　flash　Slone　leaped　into　the　saddle。　A　faint
cry；　away　from　the　wind；　startled　Slone。　It　was　like　a　cry　he　had　heard　in
dreams。　How　overstrained　his　perceptions！　He　was　not　really　sure　of　anything；
yet　on　the　instant　he　was　tense。

Straggling　cedars　on　his　left　almost　wholly　obstructed　Slone's　view。
Wildfire's　ears　and　nose　were　pointed　that　way。　Slone　trotted　him　down　toward
the　edge　of　this　cedar　clump　so　that　he　could　see　beyond。　Before　he　reached
it；　however；　he　saw　something　blue；　moving；　waving；　lifting。

〃Smoke！〃　muttered　Slone。　And　he　thought　more　of　the　danger　of　fire　on　that
windy　height　than　he　did　of　another　peril　to　himself。

Wildfire　was　hard　to　hold　as　he　rounded　the　edge　of　the　cedars。

Slone　saw　a　line　of　leaping　flame；　a　line　of　sweeping　smoke；　the　grass　on　fire
。　。　。　horses！a　man！

Wildfire　whistled　his　ringing　blast　of　hate　and　menace；　his　desert　challenge
to　another　stallion。

The　man　whirled　to　look。

Slone　saw　Joel　Creechand　Sage　Kingand　Lucy；　half　naked；　bound　on　his　back！

Joy；　agony；　terror　in　lightning…swift　turns；　paralyzed　Slone。　But　Wildfire
lunged　out　on　the　run。

Sage　King　reared　in　fright；　came　clown　to　plunge　away。　and　with　a　magnificent
leap　cleared　the　line　of　fire。

Slone；　more　from　habit　than　thought；　sat　close　in　the　saddle。　A　few　of
Wildfire's　lengthening　strides；　quickened　Slone's　blood。　Then　Creech　moved；
also　awaking　from　a　stupefying　surprise；　and　he　snatched　up　a　gun　and　fired。
Slone　saw　the　spurts　of　red；　the　puffs　of　white。　But　he　heard　nothing。　The
torrent　of　his　changed　blood；　burning　and　terrible；　filled　his　ears　with　hate
and　death。

He　guided　the　running　stallion。　In　a　few　tremendous　strides　Wildfire　struck
Creech；　and　Slone　had　one　glimpse　of　all　awful　face。　The　impact　was　terrific。
Creech　went　hurtling　through　the　air；　limp　and　broken；　to　go　down　upon　a　rock；
his　skull　cracking　like　a　melon。

The　horse　leaped　over　the　body　and　the　stone；　and　beyond　he　leaped　the　line　of
burning　grass。

Slone　saw　the　King　running　into　the　forest。　He　saw　poor　Lucy's　white　body
swinging　with　the　horse's　motion。　One　glance　showed　the　great　gray　to　be
running　wild。　Then　the　hate　and　passion　cleared　away；　leaving　suspense　and
terror。

Wildfire　reached　the　pines。　There　down　the　open　aisles　between　the　black　trees
ran　the　fleet　gray　racer。　Wildfire　saw　him　and　snorted。　The　King　was　a　hundred
yards　to　the　fore。

〃Wildfireit's　comethe　racethe　race！〃　called　Slone。　But　he　could　not　hear
his　own　call。　There　was　a　roar　overhead；　heavy；　almost　deafening。　The　wind！
the　wind！　Yet　that　roar　did　not　deaden　a　strange；　shrieking　crack　somewhere
behind。　Wildfire　leaped　in　fright。　Slone　turned。　Fire　had　run　up　a　pine…tree；
which　exploded　as　if　the　trunk　were　powder！

〃MY　GOD！　A　RACE　WITH　FIRE！　。　。　。　LUCY！　LUCY！〃

In　that　poignant　cry　Slone　uttered　his　realization　of　the　strange　fate　that
had　waited　for　the　inevitable　race　between　Wildfire　and　the　King；　he　uttered
his　despairing　love　for　Lucy；　and　his　acceptance　of　death　for　her　and　himself。
No　horse　could　outrun　wind…driven　fire　in　a　dry　pine　forest。　Slone　had　no　hope
of　that。　How　perfectly　fate　and　time　and　place　and　horses；　himself　and　his
sweetheart；　had　met！　Slone　damned　Joel　Creech's　insane　soul　to　everlasting
torment。　To　think　to　think　his　idiotic　and　wild　threat　had　come　trueand
come　true　with　a　gale　in　the　pine…tops！　Slone　grew　old　at　the　thought；　and　the
fact　seemed　to　be　a　dream。　But　the　dry；　pine…scented　air　made　breathing　hard；
the　gray　racer；　carrying　that　slender；　half…naked　form；　white　in　the　forest
shade；　lengthened　into　his　fleet　and　beautiful　stride；　the　motion　of　Wildfire；
so　easy；　so　smooth；　so　swift；　and　the　fierce　reach　of　his　head　shooting
forwardall　these　proved　that　it　was　no　dream。

Tense　questions　pierced　the　dark　chaos　of　Slone's　mindwhat　could　he　do？　Run
the　King　down！　Make　'him　kill　Lucy！　Save　her　from　horrible　death　by　fire！

The　red　horse　had　not　gained　a　yard　on　the　gray。　Slone；　keen　to　judge
distance；　saw　this；　and　for　the　first　time　he　doubted　Wildfire's　power　to　ran
down　the　King。　Not　with　such　a　lead！　It　was　hopeless　so　hopeless

He　turned　to　look　back。　He　saw　no　fire；　no　smokeonly　the　dark　trunks；　and
the　massed　green　foliage　in　violent　agitation　against　the　blue　sky。　That
revived　a　faint　hope。　If　he　could　get　a　few　miles　ahead；　before　the　fire　began
to　leap　across　the　pine…crests；　then　it　might　be　possible　to　run　out　of　the
forest　if　it　were　not　wide。

Then　a　stronger　hope　grew。　It　seemed　that　foot　by　foot　Wildfire　was　gaining　on
the　King。　Slone　studied　the　level　forest　floor　sliding　toward　him。　He　lost　his
hopethen　regained　it　again；　and　then　he　spurred　the　horse。　Wildfire　hated
that　as　he　hated　Slone。　But　apparently　he　did　not　quicken　his　strides。　And
Slone　could　not　tell　if　he　lengthened　them。　He　was　not　running　near　his　limit
but；　after　the　nature　of　such　a　horse；　left　to　choose　his　gait；　running
slowly；　but　rising　toward　his　swiftest　and　fiercest。

Slone's　rider's　blood　never　thrilled　to　that　race；　for　his　blood　had　curdled。
The　sickness　within　rose　to　his　mind。　And　that　flashed　up　whenever　he　dared　to
look　forward　at　Lucy's　white　form。　Slone　could　not　bear　this　sight；　it　almost
made　him　reel；　yet　he　was　driven　to　look。　He　saw　that　the　King　carried　no
saddle；　so　with　Lucy　on　him　he　was　light。　He　ought　to　run　all　day　with　only
that　weight。　Wildfire　carried　a　heavy　saddle；　a　pack；　a　water　bag；　and　a
rifle。　Slone　untied　the　pack　and　let　it　drop。　He　almost　threw　aside　the
water…bag；　but　something　withheld　his　hand；　and　also　he　kept　his　rifle。　What
were　a　few　more　pounds　to　this　desert　stallion　in　his　last　run？　Slone　knew　it
was　Wildfire's　greatest　and　last　race。

Suddenly　Slone's　ears　rang　with　a　terrible　on…coming　roar。　For　an　instant　the
unknown　sound　stiffened　him；　robbed　him　of　strength。　Only　the　horn　of　the
saddle；　hooking　into　him；　held　him　on。　Then　the　years　of　his　desert　life
answered　to　a　call　more　than　human。

He　had　to　race　against　fire。　He　must　beat　the　flame　to　the　girl　he　loved。
There　were　miles　of　dry　forest；　like　powder。　Fire　backed　by　a　heavy　gale　could
rage　through　dry　pine　faster　than　any　horse　could　run。　He　might　fail　to　save
Lucy。　Fate　had　given　him　a　bitter　ride。　But　he　swore　a　grim　oath　that　he　would
beat　the　flame。　The　intense　and　abnormal　rider's　passion　in　him；　like
Bostil's；　dammed　up；　but　never　fully　controlled；　burst　within　him；　and
suddenly　he　awoke　to　a　wild　and　terrible　violence　of　heart　and　soul。　He　had
accepted　death；　he　had　no　fear。　All　that　he　wanted　to　do；　the　last　thing　he
wanted　to　do；　was　to　ride　down　the　King　and　kill　Lucy　mercifully。　How　he　would
have　gloried　to　burn　there　in　the　forest；　and　for　a　million　years　in　the　dark
beyond；　to　save　the　girl！

He　goaded　the　horse。　Then　he　looked　back。

Through　the　aisles　of　the　forest　he　saw　a　strange；　streaky；　murky　something
moving；　alive；　shifting　up　and　down；　never　an　instant　the　same。　It　must　have
been　the　windthe　heat　before　the　fire。　He　seemed　to　see　through　it；　but
there　was　nothing　beyond；　only　opaque；　dim；　mustering　clouds。　Hot　puffs　shot
forward　into　his　face。　His　eyes　smarted　and　stung。　His　ears　hurt　and　were
growing　deaf。　The　tumult　was　the　rear　of　avalanches；　of　maelstroms；　of　rushing
seas；　of　the　wreck　of　the　uplands　and　the　ruin　of　the　earth。　It　grew　to　be　so
great　a　roar　that　he　no　longer　heard。　There　was　only　silence。

And　he　turned　to　face　ahead。　The　stallion　stretched　low　on　a　dead　run；　the
tips　of　the　pines　were　bending　before　the　wind；　and　Wildfire；　the　terrible
thing　for　which　his　horse　was　named；　was　leaping　through　the　forest。　But　there
was　no　sound。

Ahead　of　Slone；　down　the　aisles；　low　under　the　trees　spreading　over　the
running　King；　floated　swiftly　some　medium；　like　a　transparent　veil。　It　was
neither　smoke　nor　air。　It　carried　faint　pin　points　of　light；　sparks；　that
resembled　atoms　of　dust　floating　in　sunlight。　It　was　a　wave　of　heat　driven
before　the　storm　of　fire。　Slone　did　not　feel　pain；　but　he　seemed　to　be　drying
up。　parching。　And　Lucy　must　be　suffering　now。　He　goaded　the　stallion；　raking
his　flanks。　Wildfire　answered　with　a　scream　and　a　greater　speed。　All　except
Lucy　and　Sage　King　and　Wildfire　seemed　so　strange　and　unrealthe　swift　rush
between　the　pines；　now　growing　ghostly　in　t