wildfire-第15节

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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
lonelinessthese　were　sweet　and　comforting　to　him。

And　that　night's　sleep　was　as　a　moment。　He　opened　his　eyes　to　see　the　crags
and　towers　and　peaks　and　domes；　and　the　lofty　walls　of　that　vast；　broken　chaos
of　canyons　across　the　river。　They　were　now　emerging　from　the　misty　gray　of
dawn；　growing　pink　and　lilac　and　purple　under　the　rising　sun。

He　arose　and　set　about　his　few　tasks；　which；　being　soon　finished；　allowed　him
an　early　start。

Wildfire　had　grazed　along　no　more　than　a　mile　in　the　lead。　Slone　looked
eagerly　up　the　narrowing　canyon；　but　he　was　not　rewarded　by　a　sight　of　the
stallion。　As　he　progressed　up　a　gradually　ascending　trail　he　became　aware　of
the　fact　that　the　notch　he　had　long　looked　up　to　was　where　the　great　red　walls
closed　in　and　almost　met。　And　the　trail　zigzagged　up　this　narrow　vent；　so
steep　that　only　a　few　steps　could　be　taken　without　rest。　Slone　toiled　up　for
an　houran　agetill　he　was　wet；　burning；　choked；　with　a　great　weight　on　his
chest。　Yet　still　he　was　only　half…way　up　that　awful　break　between　the　walls。
Sometimes　he　could　have　tossed　a　stone　down　upon　a　part　of　the　trail；　only　a
few　rods　below；　yet　many；　many　weary　steps　of　actual　toil。　As　he　got　farther
up　the　notch　widened。　What　had　been　scarcely　visible　from　the　valley　below　was
now　colossal　in　actual　dimensions。　The　trail　was　like　a　twisted　mile　of　thread
between　two　bulging　mountain　walls　leaning　their　ledges　and　fronts　over　this
tilted　pass。

Slone　rested　often。　Nagger　appreciated　this　and　heaved　gratefully　at　every
halt。　In　this　monotonous　toil　Slone　forgot　the　zest　of　his　pursuit。　And　when
Nagger　suddenly　snorted　in　fright　Slone　was　not　prepared　for　what　he　saw。

Above　him　ran　a　low；　red　wall；　around　which　evidently　the　trail　led。　At　the
curve；　which　was　a　promontory；　scarcely　a　hundred　feet　in　an　airline　above
him；　he　saw　something　red　moving；　bobbing；　coming　out　into　view。　It　was　a
horse。

Wildfireno　farther　away　than　the　length　of　three　lassoes！

There　he　stood　looking　down。　He　fulfilled　all　of　Slone's　dreams。　Only　he　was
bigger。　But　he　was　so　magnificently　proportioned　that　he　did　not　seem　heavy。
His　coat　was　shaggy　and　red。　It　was　not　glossy。　The　color　was　what　made　him
shine。　His　mane　was　like　a　crest；　mounting；　then　failing　low。　Slone　had　never
seen　so　much　muscle　on　a　horse。　Yet　his　outline　was　graceful；　beautiful。　The
head　was　indeed　that　of　the　wildest　of　all　wild　creaturesa　stallion　born
wildand　it　was　beautiful；　savage；　splendid；　everything　but　noble。　Whatever
Wildfire　was；　he　was　a　devil；　a　murdererhe　had　no　noble　attributes。　Slone
thought　that　if　a　horse　could　express　hate；　surely　Wildfire　did　then。　It　was
certain　that　he　did　express　curiosity　and　fury。

Slone　shook　a　gantleted　fist　at　the　stallion；　as　if　the　horse　were　human。　That
was　a　natural　action　for　a　rider　of　his　kind。　Wildfire　turned　away；　showed
bright　against　the　dark　background；　and　then　disappeared。



CHAPTER　VI

That　was　the　last　Slone　saw　of　Wildfire　for　three　days。

It　took　all　of　this　day　to　climb　out　of　the　canyon。　The　second　was　a　slow
march　of　thirty　miles　into　a　scrub　cedar　and　pinyon　forest；　through　which　the
great　red　and　yellow　walls　of　the　canyon　could　be　seen。　That　night　Slone　found
a　water…hole　in　a　rocky　pocket　and　a　little　grass　for　Nagger。　The　third　day's
travel　consisted　of　forty　miles　or　more　through　level　pine　forest；　dry　and
odorous；　but　lacking　the　freshness　and　beauty　of　the　forest　on　the　north　side
of　the　canyon。　On　this　south　side　a　strange　feature　was　that　all　the　water；
when　there　was　any；　ran　away　from　the　rim。　Slone　camped　this　night　at　a　muddy
pond　in　the　woods；　where　Wildfire's　tracks　showed　plainly。

On　the　following　day　Slone　rode　out　of　the　forest　into　a　country　of　scanty
cedars；　bleached　and　stunted；　and　out　of　this　to　the　edge　of　a　plateau；　from
which　the　shimmering　desert　flung　its　vast　and　desolate　distances；　forbidding
and　menacing。　This　was　not　the　desert　upland　country　of　Utah；　but　a　naked　and
bony　world　of　colored　rock　and　sand　a　painted　desert　of　heat　and　wind　and
flying　sand　and　waterless　wastes　and　barren　ranges。　But　it　did　not　daunt
Slone。　For　far　down　on　the　bare；　billowing　ridges　moved　a　red　speck；　at　a
snail's　pace；　a　slowly　moving　dot　of　color　which　was　Wildfire。

On　open　ground　like　this；　Nagger；　carrying　two　hundred　and　fifty　pounds；
showed　his　wonderful　quality。　He　did　not　mind　the　heat　nor　the　sand　nor　the
glare　nor　the　distance　nor　his　burden。　He　did　not　tire。　He　was　an　engine　of
tremendous　power。

Slone　gained　upon　Wildfire；　and　toward　evening　of　that　day　he　reached　to
within　half　a　mile　of　the　stallion。　And　he　chose　to　keep　that　far　behind。　That
night　he　camped　where　there　was　dry　grass；　but　no　water。

Next　day　he　followed　Wildfire　down　and　down；　over　the　endless　swell　of　rolling
red　ridges；　bare　of　all　but　bleached　white　grass　and　meager　greasewood；　always
descending　in　the　face　of　that　painted　desert　of　bold　and　ragged　steps。　Slone
made　fifty　miles　that　day；　and　gained　the　valley　bed；　where　a　slender　stream
ran　thin　and　spread　over　a　wide　sandy