wildfire-第14节

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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　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