wildfire-第16节

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made　fifty　miles　that　day；　and　gained　the　valley　bed；　where　a　slender　stream
ran　thin　and　spread　over　a　wide　sandy　bottom。　It　was　salty　water；　but　it　was
welcome　to　both　man　and　beast。

The　following　day　he　crossed；　and　the　tracks　of　Wildfire　were　still　wet　on　the
sand…bars。　The　stallion　was　slowing　down。　Slone　saw　him；　limping　along；　not
far　in　advance。　There　was　a　ten…mile　stretch　of　level　ground；　blown　hard　as
rock；　from　which　the　sustenance　had　been　bleached；　for　not　a　spear　of　grass
grew　there。　And　following　that　was　a　tortuous　passage　through　a　weird　region
of　clay　dunes；　blue　and　violet　and　heliotrope　and　lavender；　all　worn　smooth　by
rain　and　wind。　Wildfire　favored　the　soft　ground　now。　He　had　deviated　from　his
straight　course。　And　he　was　partial　to　washes　and　dips　in　the　earth　where
water　might　have　lodged。　And　he　was　not　now　scornful　of　a　green…scummed
water…hole　with　its　white　margin　of　alkali。　That　night　Slone　made　camp　with
Wildfire　in　plain　sight。　The　stallion　stopped　when　his　pursuers　stopped。　And
he　began　to　graze　on　the　same　stretch　with　Nagger。　How　strange　this　seemed　to
Slone！

Here　at　this　camp　was　evidence　of　Indians。　Wildfire　had　swung　round　to　the
north　in　his　course。　Like　any　pursued　wild　animal；　he　had　began　to　circle。　And
he　had　pointed　his　nose　toward　the　Utah　he　had　left。

Next　morning　Wildfire　was　not　in　sight；　but　he　had　left　his　tracks　in　the
sand。　Slone　trailed　him　with　Nagger　at　a　trot。　Toward　the　head　of　this　sandy
flat　Slone　came　upon　old　corn…fields；　and　a　broken　dam　where　the　water　had
been　stored；　and　well…defined　trails　leading　away　to　the　right。　Somewhere　over
there　in　the　desert　lived　Indians。　At　this　point　Wildfire　abandoned　the　trail
he　had　followed　for　many　days　and　cut　out　more　to　the　north。　It　took　all　the
morning　hours　to　climb　three　great　steps　and　benches　that　led　up　to　the　summit
of　a　mesa；　vast　in　extent。　It　turned　out　to　be　a　sandy　waste。　The　wind　rose
and　everywhere　were　moving　sheets　of　sand；　and　in　the　distance　circular　yellow
dust…devils；　rising　high　like　waterspouts；　and　back　down　in　the　sun…scorched
valley　a　sandstorm　moved　along　majestically；　burying　the　desert　in　its　yellow
pall。

Then　two　more　days　of　sand　and　another　day　of　a　slowly　rising　ground　growing
from　bare　to　gray　and　gray　to　green；　and　then　to　the　purple　of　sage　and
cedarthese　three　grinding　days　were　toiled　out　with　only　one　water…hole。

And　Wildfire　was　lame　and　in　distress　and　Nagger　was　growing　gaunt　and　showing
strain；　and　Slone；　haggard　and　black　and　worn；　plodded　miles　and　miles　on　foot
to　save　his　horse。　

Slone　felt　that　it　would　be　futile　to　put　the　chase　to　a　test　of　speed。　Nagger
could　never　head　that　stallion。　Slone　meant　to　go　on　and　on；　always　pushing
Wildfire；　keeping　him　tired；　wearied；　and　worrying　him；　till　a　section　of　the
country　was　reached　where　he　could　drive　Wildfire　into　some　kind　of　a　natural
trap。　The　pursuit　seemed　endless。　Wildfire　kept　to　open　country　where　he　could
not　be　surprised。

There　came　a　morning　when　Slone　climbed　to　a　cedared　plateau　that　rose　for　a
whole　day's　travel；　and　then　split　into　a　labyrinthine　maze　of　canyons。　There
were　trees；　grass；　water。　It　was　a　high　country；　cool　and　wild；　like　the
uplands　he　had　left。　For　days　he　camped　on　Wildfire's　trail；　always
relentlessly　driving　him；　always　watching　for　the　trap　he　hoped　to　find。　And
the　red　stallion　spent　much　of　this　time　of　flight　in　looking　backward。
Whenever　Slone　came　in　sight　of　him　he　had　his　head　over　his　shoulder；
watching。　And　on　the　soft　ground　of　these　canyons　he　had　begun　to　recover　from
his　lameness。　But　this　did　not　worry　Slone。　Sooner　or　later　Wildfire　would　go
down　into　a　high…walled　wash；　from　which　there　would　be　no　outlet；　or　he　would
wander　into　a　box…canyon；　or　he　would　climb　out　on　a　mesa　with　no　place　to
descend；　unless　he　passed　Slone；　or　he　would　get　cornered　on　a　soft；　steep
slope　where　his　hoofs　would　sink　deep　and　make　him　slow。　The　nature　of　the
desert　had　changed。　Slone　had　entered　a　wonderful　region；　the　like　of　which　he
had　not　seena　high　plateau　crisscrossed　in　every　direction　by　narrow　canyons
with　red　walls　a　thousand　feet　high。

And　one　of　the　strange　turning　canyons　opened　into　a　vast　valley　of　monuments。

The　plateau　had　weathered　and　washed　away；　leaving　huge　sections　of　stone
walls；　all　standing　isolated；　different　in　size　and　shape；　but　all　clean…cut；
bold；　with　straight　lines。　They　stood　up　everywhere；　monumental；　towering；
many…colored；　lending　a　singular　and　beautiful　aspect　to　the　great
green…and…gray　valley；　billowing　away　to　the　north；　where　dim；　broken
battlements　mounted　to　the　clouds。

The　only　living　thing　in　Slone's　sight　was　Wildfire。　He　shone　red　down　on　the
green　slope。

Slone's　heart　swelled。　This　was　the　setting　for　that　grand　horse　a　perfect
wild　range。　But　also　it　seemed　the　last　place　where　there　might　be　any　chance
to　trap　the　stallion。　Still　that　did　not　alter　Slone's　purpose；　though　it　lost
to　him　the　joy　of　former　hopes。　He　rode　down　the　slope；　out　upon　the　billowing
floor　of　the　valley。　Wildfire　looked　back　to　see　his　pursuers；　and　then　the
solemn　stillness　broke　to　a　wild；　piercing　whistle。

Day　after　day；　camping　where　night　found　him；　Slone　followed　the　stallion；
never　losing　sight　of　him　till　darkness　had　fallen。　The　valley　was　immense　and
the　monuments　miles　apart。　But　they　always　seemed　close　together　and　near　him。
The　air　magnified　everything。　Slone　lost　track　of　time。　The　strange；　solemn；
lonely　days　and　the　silent；　lonely　nights；　and　the　endless　pursuit；　and　the
wild；　weird　valleythese　completed　the　work　of　years　on　Slone　and　he　became
satisfied；　unthinking；　almost　savage。

The　toil　and　privation　had　worn　him　down　and　he　was　like　iron。　His　garments
hung　in　tatters；　his　boots　were　ripped　and　soleless。　Long　since　his　flour　had
been　used　up；　and　all　his　supplies　except　the　salt。　He　lived　on　the　meat　of
rabbits；　but　they　were　scarce；　and　the　time　came　when　there　were　none。　Some
days　he　did　not　eat。　Hunger　did　not　make　him　suffer。　He　killed　a　desert　bird
now　and　then；　and　once　a　wildcat　crossing　the　valley。　Eventually　he　felt　his
strength　diminishing；　and　then　he　took　to　digging　out　the　pack…rats　and
cooking　them。　But　these；　too；　were　scarce。　At　length　starvation　faced　Slone。
But　he　knew　he　would　not　starve。　Many　times　he　had　been　within　rifle…shot　of
Wildfire。　And　the　grim；　forbidding　thought　grew　upon　him　that　he　must　kill　the
stallion。　The　thought　seemed　involuntary；　but　his　mind　rejected　it。
Nevertheless；　he　knew　that　if　he　could　not　catch　the　stallion　he　would　kill
him。　That　had　been　the　end　of　many　a　desperate　rider's　pursuit　of　a　coveted
horse。

While　Slone　kept　on　his　merciless　pursuit；　never　letting　Wildfire　rest　by　day；
time　went　on　just　as　relentlessly。　Spring　gave　way　to　early　summer。　The　hot
sun　bleached　the　grass；　water…holes　failed　out　in　the　valley；　and　water　could
be　found　only　in　the　canyons；　and　the　dry　winds　began　to　blow　the　sand。　It　was
a　sandy　valley；　green　and　gray　only　at　a　distance；　and　out　toward　the　north
there　were　no　monuments；　and　the　slow　heave　of　sand　lifted　toward　the　dim
walls。

Wildfire　worked　away　from　this　open　valley；　back　to　the　south　end；　where　the
great　monuments　loomed；　and　still　farther　back；　where　they　grew　closer；　till
at　length　some　of　them　were　joined　by　weathered　ridges　to　the　walls　of　the
surrounding　plateau。　For　all　that　Slone　could　see；　Wildfire　was　in　perfect
condition。　But　Nagger　was　not　the　horse　he　had　been。　Slone　realized　that　in
one　way　or　another　the　pursuit　was　narrowing　down　to　the　end。

He　found　a　water…hole　at　the　head　of　a　wash　in　a　split　in　the　walls；　and　here
he　let　Nagger　rest　and　graze　one　whole　daythe　first　day　for　a　long　time　that
he　had　not　kept　the　red　stallion　in　sight。　That　day　was　marked　by　the　good
fortune　of　killing　a　rabbit；　and　while　eating　it　his　gloomy；　fixed　mind
admitted　that　he　was　starving。　He　dreaded　the　next　sunrise。　But　he　could　not
hold　it　back。　There；　behind　the　dark　monuments；　standing　sentinel…like；　the
sky　lightened　and　reddened　and　burst　into　gold　and　pink；　till　out　of　the
golden　glare　the　sun　rose　glorious。　And　Slone；　facing　the　league…long　shadows
of　the　monuments；　rode　out　again　into　the　silent；　solemn　day；　on　his　hopeless
quest。

For　a　change　Wildfire　had　climbed　high　up　a　slope　of　talus；　through　a　narrow
pass；　rounded　over　with　drifting　sand。　And　Slone　gazed　down　into　a　huge
amphitheater　full　of　monuments；　like　all　that　strange　country。　A　basin　three
miles　across　lay　beneath　him。　Walls　and　weathered　slants　of　rock　and　steep
slopes　of　reddish…yellow　sand　inclosed　this　oval　depression。　The　floor　was
white；　and　it　seemed　to　move　gently　or　radiate　with　heat…waves。　Studying　it；
Slone　made　out　that　the　motion　was　caused　by　wind　in　long　bleached　grass。　He
had　crossed　small　areas　of　this　grass　in　different　parts　of　the　region。

Wildfire's　tracks　led　down　into　this　basin；　and　presently　Slone；　by　straining
his　eyes；　made　out　the　red　spot　that　was　the　stallion。

〃He's　lookin'　to　quit　the　country；〃　soliloquized　Slone；　as　he　surveyed　the
scene。

With　keen；　slow　gaze　Slone　studied　the　lay　of　wall　and　slope；　and　when　he　had