wildfire-第21节

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〃Sure。　And　I'm　to　RIDE　him。　You　know　how　Dad　means　that。〃

〃Wal；　now；　I'm　doggoned！〃　added　Farlane；　looking　worried　and　pleased　at　once。
〃I　reckon；　Miss　Lucy；　youyou　wouldn't　fool　me？〃

〃Why；　Farlane！〃　returned　Lucy；　reproachfully。　〃Did　I　ever　do　a　single　thing
around　horses　that　you　didn't　want　me　to？〃

Farlane　rubbed　his　chin　beard　somewhat　dubiously。　〃Wal；　Miss　Lucy；　not　exactly
while　you　was　around　the　hosses。　But　I　reckon　when　you　onct　got　up；　you've
sorta　forgot　a　few　times。〃

All　the　riders　laughed；　and　Lucy　joined　them。

〃I'm　safe　when　I'm　up；　you　know　that；〃　she　replied。

They　brought　out　the　gray；　and　after　the　manner　of　riders　who　had　the　care　of
a　great　horse　and　loved　him；　they　curried　and　combed　and　rubbed　him　before
saddling　him。

〃Reckon　you'd　better　ride　Van's　saddle；〃　suggested　Farlane。　〃Them　races　is
close　now；　an'　a　strange　saddle〃

〃Of　course。　Don't　change　anything　he's　used　to；　except　the　stirrups；〃　replied
Lucy。

Despite　her　antipathy　toward　Sage　King；　Lucy　could　not　gaze　at　him　without　all
a　rider's　glory　in　a　horse。　He　was　sleek；　so　graceful；　so　racy；　so　near　the
soft　gray　of　the　sage；　so　beautiful　in　build　and　action。　Then　he　was　the　kind
of　a　horse　that　did　not　have　to　be　eternally　watched。　He　was　spirited　and　full
of　life；　eager　to　run；　but　when　Farlane　called　for　him　to　stand　still　he
obeyed。　He　was　the　kind　of　a　horse　that　a　child　could　have　played　around　in
safety。　He　never　kicked。　He　never　bit。　He　never　bolted。　It　was　splendid　to　see
him　with　Farlane　or　with　Bostil。　He　did　not　like　Lucy　very　well；　a　fact　that
perhaps　accounted　for　Lucy's　antipathy。　For　that　matter；　he　did　not　like　any
woman。　If　he　had　a　bad　trait；　it　came　out　when　Van　rode　him；　but　all　the
riders；　and　Bostil；　too；　claimed　that　Van　was　to　blame　for　that。

〃Thar；　I　reckon　them　stirrups　is　right；〃　declared　Farlane。　〃Now；　Miss　Lucy；
hold　him　tight　till　he　wears　off　thet　edge。　He　needs　work。〃

Sage　King　would　not　kneel　for　Lucy　as　Sarchedon　did；　and　he　was　too　high　for
her　to　mount　from　the　ground；　so　she　mounted　from　a　rock。　She　took　to　the
road；　and　then　the　first　trail　into　the　sage；　intending　to　trot　him　ten　or
fifteen　miles　down　into　the　valley；　and　give　him　some　fast；　warm　work　on　the
return。

The　day　was　early　in　May　and　promised　to　grow　hot。　There　was　not　a　cloud　in
the　blue　sky。　The　wind；　laden　with　the　breath　of　sage；　blew　briskly　from　the
west。　All　before　Lucy　lay　the　vast　valley；　gray　and　dusky　gray；　then　blue；
then　purple　where　the　monuments　stood；　and；　farther　still；　dark　ramparts　of
rock。　Lucy　had　a　habit　of　dreaming　while　on　horseback；　a　habit　all　the　riders
had　tried　to　break；　but　she　did　not　give　it　rein　while　she　rode　Sarchedon；　and
assuredly　now；　up　on　the　King；　she　never　forgot　him　for　an　instant。　He　shied
at　mockingbirds　and　pack…rats　and　blowing　blossoms　and　even　at　butterflies；
and　he　did　it；　Lucy　thought；　just　because　he　was　full　of　mischief。　Sage　King
had　been　known　to　go　steady　when　there　had　been　reason　to　shy。　He　did　not　like
Lucy　and　he　chose　to　torment　her。　Finally　he　earned　a　good　dig　from　a　spur；
and　then；　with　swift　pounding　of　hoofs；　he　plunged　and　veered　and　danced　in
the　sage。　Lucy　kept　her　temper；　which　was　what　most　riders　did　not　do；　and　by
patience　and　firmness　pulled　Sage　King　out　of　his　prancing　back　into　the
trail。　He　was　not　the　least　cross…grained；　and；　having　had　his　little　spurt；
he　settled　down　into　easy　going。

In　an　hour　Lucy　was　ten　miles　or　more　from　home；　and　farther　down　in　the
valley　than　she　had　ever　been。　In　fact；　she　had　never　before　been　down　the
long　slope　to　the　valley　floor。　How　changed　the　horizon　became！　The　monuments
loomed　up　now；　dark；　sentinel…like；　and　strange。　The　first　one；　a　great　red
rock；　seemed　to　her　some　five　miles　away。　It　was　lofty；　straight…sided；　with　a
green　slope　at　its　base。　And　beyond　that　the　other　monuments　stretched　out
down　the　valley。　Lucy　decided　to　ride　as　far　as　the　first　one　before　turning
back。　Always　these　monuments　had　fascinated　her；　and　this　was　her　opportunity
to　ride　near　one。　How　lofty　they　were；　how　wonderfully　colored；　and　how
comely！

Presently；　over　the　left；　where　the　monuments　were　thicker；　and　gradually
merged　their　slopes　and　lines　and　bulk　into　the　yellow　walls；　she　saw　low；
drifting　clouds　of　smoke。

〃Well；　what's　that；　I　wonder？〃　she　mused。　To　see　smoke　on　the　horizon　in　that
direction　was　unusual；　though　out　toward　Durango　the　grassy　benches　would
often　burn　over。　And　these　low　clouds　of　smoke　resembled　those　she　had　seen
before。

〃It's　a　long　way　off；〃　she　added。

So　she　kept　on；　now　and　then　gazing　at　the　smoke。　As　she　grew　nearer　to　the
first　monument　she　was　surprised；　then　amazed；　at　its　height　and　surpassing
size。　It　was　mountain…higha　grand　towersmooth；　worn；　glistening；　yellow
and　red。　The　trail　she　had　followed　petered　out　in　a　deep　wash；　and　beyond
that　she　crossed　no　more　trails。　The　sage　had　grown　meager　and　the　greasewoods
stunted　and　dead；　and　cacti　appeared　on　barren　places。　The　grass　had　not
failed；　but　it　was　not　rich　grass　such　as　the　horses　and　cattle　grazed　upon
miles　back　on　the　slope。　The　air　was　hot　down　here。　The　breeze　was　heavy　and
smelled　of　fire；　and　the　sand　was　blowing　here　and　there。　She　had　a　sense　of
the　bigness；　the　openness　of　this　valley；　and　then　she　realized　its　wildness
and　strangeness。　These　lonely；　isolated　monuments　made　the　place　different
from　any　she　had　visited。　They　did　not　seem　mere　standing　rocks。　They　seemed
to　retreat　all　the　time　as　she　approached；　and　they　watched　her。　They
interested　her；　made　her　curious。　What　had　formed　all　these　strange　monuments？
Here　the　ground　was　level　for　miles　and　miles；　to　slope　gently　up　to　the　bases
of　these　huge　rocks。　In　an　old　book　she　had　seen　pictures　of　the　Egyptian
pyramids；　but　these　appeared　vaster；　higher；　and　stranger；　and　they　were
sheerly　perpendicular。

Suddenly　Sage　King　halted　sharply；　shot　up　his　ears；　and　whistled。　Lucy　was
startled。　That　from　the　King　meant　something。　Hastily；　with　keen　glance　she
swept　the　foreground。　A　mile　on；　near　the　monument；　was　a　small　black　spot。　It
seemed　motionless。　But　the　King's　whistle　had　proved　it　to　be　a　horse。　When
Lucy　had　covered　a　quarter　of　the　intervening　distance　she　could　distinguish
the　horse　and　that　there　appeared　some　thing　strange　about　his　position。　Lucy
urged　Sage　King　into　a　lope　and　soon　drew　nearer。　The　black　horse　had　his　head
down；　yet　he　did　not　appear　to　be　grazing。　He　was　as　still　as　a　statue。　He
stood　just　outside　a　clump　of　greasewood　and　cactus。

Suddenly　a　sound　pierced　the　stillness。　The　King　jumped　and　snorted　in　fright。
For　an　instant　Lucy's　blood　ran　cold；　for　it　was　a　horrible　cry。　Then　she
recognized　it　as　the　neigh　of　a　horse　in　agony。　She　had　heard　crippled　and
dying　horses　utter　that　long…drawn　and　blood…curdling　neigh。　The　black　horse
had　not　moved；　so　the　sound　could　not　have　come　from　him。　Lucy　thought　Sage
King　acted　more　excited　than　the　occasion　called　for。　Then　remembering　her
father's　warning；　she　reined　in　on　top　of　a　little　knoll；　perhaps　a　hundred
yards　from　where　the　black　horse　stood；　and　she　bent　her　keen　gaze　forward。

It　was　a　huge；　gaunt；　shaggy　black　horse　she　saw；　with　the　saddle　farther　up
on　his　shoulders　than　it　should　have　been。　He　stood　motionless；　as　if　utterly
exhausted。　His　forelegs　were　braced；　so　that　he　leaned　slightly　back。　Then
Lucy　saw　a　rope。　It　was　fast　to　the　saddle　and　stretched　down　into　the　cactus。
There　was　no　other　horse　in　sight；　nor　any　living　thing。　The　immense　monument
dominated　the　scene。　It　seemed　stupendous　to　Lucy；　sublime；　almost　frightful。

She　hesitated。　She　knew　there　was　another　horse；　very　likely　at　the　other　end
of　that　lasso。　Probably　a　rider　had　been　thrown；　perhaps　killed。　Certainly　a
horse　had　been　hurt。　Then　on　the　moment　rang　out　the　same　neigh　of　agony；　only
weaker　and　shorter。　Lucy　no　longer　feared　an　ambush。　That　was　a　cry　which
could　not　be　imitated　by　a　man　or　forced　from　a　horse。　There　was　probably
death；　certainly　suffering；　near　at　hand。　She　spurred　the　King　on。

There　was　a　little　slope　to　descend；　a　wash　to　cross；　a　bench　to　climb　and
then　she　rode　up　to　the　black　horse。　Sage　King　needed　harder　treatment　than
Lucy　had　ever　given　him。

〃What's　wrong　with　you？〃　she　demanded；　pulling　him　down。　Suddenly；　as　she　felt
him　tremble；　she　realized　that　he　was　frightened。　〃That's　funny！〃　Then　when
she　got　him　quiet　she　looked　around。

The　black　horse　was　indeed　huge。　His　mane；　his　shaggy　flanks；　were　lathered　as
if　he　had　been　smeared　with　heavy　soap…suds。　He　raised　his　head　to　look　at
her。　Lucy；　accustomed　to　horses　all　her　life；　saw　that　this　one　welcomed　her
arrival。　But　he　was　almost　ready　to　drop。

Two　taut　lassoes　stretched　from　the　pommel　of　his　saddle　down　a　little　into　a
depression　full　of　brush　and　cactus　and　rocks。　Then　Lucy　saw　a　red　horse。　He
was　down　in　a　bad　position。　She　heard　his　low；　choking　heaves。　Probably　he　had
broken　legs　or　back。　She　could　not　bear　to　see　a　horse　in　pain。　She　would　do
what　was　possible；　even　to　the　extent　of　putting　him　out　of　his　misery；　if
nothing　else　could　be　done。　Yet　she　scanned　the　surroundings　closely