wildfire-第36节

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kill　that　red　stallion。　And　some　one　shook　him　hard。　Some　one's　incisive　words
cut　into　his　thick；　throbbing　ears：　〃Luck　of　the　game！　The　King　ain't　beat！
He's　only　out！〃

Then　the　rider's　habit　of　mind　asserted　itself　and　Bostil　began　to　recover。
For　the　King　to　fall　was　hard　luck。　But　he　had　not　lost　the　race！　Anguish　and
pride　battled　for　mastery　over　him。　Even　if　the　King　were　out　it　was　a　Bostil
who　would　win　the　great　race。

〃He　ain't　beat！〃　muttered　Bostil。　〃It　ain't　fair！　He's　run　off　the　track　by　a
wild　stallion！〃

His　dimmed　sight　grew　clear　and　sharp。　And　with　a　gasp　he　saw　the　moving；　dark
line　take　shape　as　horses。　A　bright　horse　was　in　the　lead。　Brighter　and　larger
he　grew。　Swiftly　and　more　swiftly　he　came　on。　The　bright　color　changed　to　red。
Bostil　heard　Holley　calling　and　Cordts　callingand　other　voices；　but　he　did
not　distinguish　what　was　said。　The　line　of　horses　began　to　bob；　to　bunch。　The
race　looked　close；　despite　what　Holley　had　said。　The　Indians　were　beginning　to
lean　forward；　here　and　there　uttering　a　short；　sharp　yell。　Everything　within
Bostil　grew　together　in　one　great；　throbbing；　tingling　mass。　His　rider's　eye；
keen　once　more；　caught　a　gleam　of　gold　above　the　red；　and　that　gold　was　Lucy's
hair。　Bostil　forgot　the　King。

Then　Holley　bawled　into　his　ear；　〃They're　half…way！〃

The　race　was　beautiful。　Bostil　strained　his　eyes。　He　gloried　in　what　he
sawLucy　low　over　the　neck　of　that　red　stallion。　He　could　see　plainer　now。
They　were　coming　closer。　How　swiftly！　What　a　splendid　race！　But　it　was　too
swiftit　would　not　last。　The　Indians　began　to　yell；　drowning　the　hoarse
shouts　of　the　riders。　Out　of　the　tail　of　his　eye　Bostil　saw　Cordts　and　Sears
and　Hutchinson。　They　were　acting　like　crazy　men。　Strange　that　horse…thieves
should　care！　The　million　thrills　within　Bostil　coalesced　into　one　great
shudder　of　rapture。　He　grew　wet　with　sweat。　His　stentorian　voice　took　up　the
call　for　Lucy　to　win。

〃Three…quarters！〃　bowled　Holley　into　Bostil's　ear。　〃An'　Lucy's　give　thet　wild
hoss　free　rein！　Look；　Bostil！　You　never　in　your　life　seen　a　hoss　ran　like
thet！〃

Bostil　never　had。　His　heart　swelled。　Something　shook　him。　Was　that　his
girlthat　tight　little　gray　burr　half　hidden　in　the　huge　stallion's　flaming
mane？　The　distance　had　been　close　between　Lucy　and　the　bunched　riders。

But　it　lengthened。　How　it　widened！　That　flame　of　a　horse　was　running　away　from
the　others。　And　now　they　were　closecoming　into　the　home　stretch。　A　deafening
roar　from　the　onlookers　engulfed　all　other　sounds。　A　straining；　stamping；
arm…flinging　horde　surrounded　Bostil。

Bostil　saw　Lucy's　golden　hair　whipping　out　from　the　flame…streaked　mane。　And
then　he　could　only　see　that　red　brute　of　a　horse。　Wildfire　before　the　wind！
Bostil　thought　of　the　leaping　prairie　flame；　storm…driven。

On　came　the　red　stalliononon！　What　a　tremendous　stride！　What　a　marvelous
recovery！　What　ease！　What　savage　action！

He　flashed　past；　low；　pointed；　long；　going　faster　every　magnificent
stridewinner　by　a　dozen　lengths。



CHAPTER　XIII

Wildfire　ran　on　down　the　valley　far　beyond　the　yelling　crowd　lined　along　the
slope。　Bostil　was　deaf　to　the　throng；　he　watched　the　stallion　till　Lucy　forced
him　to　stop　and　turn。

Then　Bostil　whirled　to　see　where　Van　was　with　the　King。　Most　of　the　crowd
surged　down　to　surround　the　racers；　and　the　yells　gave　way　to　the　buzz　of　many
voices。　Some　of　the　ranchers　and　riders　remained　near　Bostil；　all　apparently
talking　at　once。　Bostil　gathered　that　Holley's　Whitefoot　had　ran　second；　and
the　Navajo's　mustang　third。　It　was　Holley　himself　who　verified　what　Bostil　had
heard。　The　old　rider's　hawk　eyes　were　warm　with　delight。

〃Boss；　he　run　second！〃　Holley　kept　repeating。

Bostil　had　the　heart　to　shake　hands　with　Holley　and　say　he　was　glad；　when　it
was　on　his　lips　to　blurt　out　there　had　been　no　race。　Then　Bostil's　nerves
tingled　at　sight　of　Van　trotting　the　King　up　the　course　toward　the　slope。
Bostil　watched　with　searching　eyes。　Sage　King　did　not　appear　to　be　injured。
Van　rode　straight　up　the　slope　and　leaped　off。　He　was　white　and　shaking。

The　King's　glossy　hide　was　dirty　with　dust　and　bits　of　cactus　and　brush。　He
was　not　even　hot。　There　did　not　appear　to　be　a　bruise　or　mark　on　him。　He
whinnied　and　rubbed　his　face　against　Bostil；　and　then；　flinching；　he　swept　up
his　head；　ears　high。　Both　fear　and　fire　shone　in　his　eyes。

〃Wal；　Van；　get　it　out　of　your　system；〃　said　Bostil；　kindly。　He　was　a　harder
loser　before　a　race　was　run　than　after　he　had　lost　it。

〃Thet　red　hoss　run　in　on　the　King　before　the　start　an'　scared　the　race　out　of
him；〃　replied　Van；　swiftly。　〃We　had　a　hunch；　you　know；　but　at　thet　Lucy's　hoss
was　a　surprise。　I'll　say；　sir；　thet　Lucy　rode　her　wild　hoss　an'　handled　him。
Twice　she　pulled　him　off　the　King。　He　meant　to　kill　the　King！　。　。　。　Ask　any　of
the　boys。　。　。　。　We　got　started。　I　took　the　lead；　sir。　The　King　was　in　the
lead。　I　never　looked　back　till　I　heard　Lucy　scream。　She　couldn't　pull
Wildfire。　He　was　rushin'　the　Kingmeant　to　kill　him。　An'　Sage　King　wanted　to
fight。　If　I　could　only　have　kept　him　runnin'！　Thet　would　have　been　a　race！　。　。
。　But　Wildfire　got　in　closer　an'　closer。　He　crowded　us。　He　bit　at　the　King's
flank　an'　shoulder　an'　neck。　Lucy　pulled　till　I　yelled　she'd　throw　the　hoss
an'　kill　us　both。　Then　Wildfire　jumped　for　us。　Runnin'　an'　strikin'　with　both
feet　at　once！　Bostil；　thet　hoss's　hell！　Then　he　hit　us　an'　down　we　went。　I　had
a　bad　spill。　But　the　King's　not　hurt　an'　thet's　a　blessed　wonder。〃

〃No　race；　Van！　It　was　hard　luck。　Take　him　home；〃　said　Bostil。

Van's　story　of　the　accident　vindicated　Bostil's　doubts。　A　new　horse　had
appeared　on　the　scene；　wild　and　swift　and　grand；　but　Sage　King　was　still
unbeaten　in　a　fair　race。　There　would　come　a　reckoning；　Bostil　grimly　muttered。
Who　owned　this　Wildfire？

Holley　might　as　well　have　read　his　mind。　〃Reckon　this　feller　ridin'　up　will
take　down　the　prize　money；〃　remarked　Holley；　and　he　pointed　to　a　man　who　rode
a　huge；　shaggy；　black　horse　and　was　leading　Lucy's　pony。

〃A…huh！〃　exclaimed　Bostil。　〃A　strange　rider。〃

〃An'　here　comes　Lucy　coaxin'　the　stallion　back；〃　added　Holley。

〃A　wild　stallion　never　clear　broke！〃　ejaculated　Cordts。

All　the　men　looked　and　all　had　some　remark　of　praise　for　Lucy　and　her　mount。

Bostil　gazed　with　a　strange；　irresistible　attraction。　Never　had　he　expected　to
live　to　see　a　wild　stallion　like　this　one；　to　say　nothing　of　his　daughter
mounted　on　him；　with　the　record　of　having　put　Sage　King　out　of　the　race！

A　thousand　pairs　of　eyes　watched　Wildfire。　He　pranced　out　there　beyond　the
crowd　of　men　and　horses。　He　did　not　want　to　come　closer。　Yet　he　did　not　seem
to　fight　his　rider。　Lucy　hung　low　over　his　neck；　apparently　exhausted；　and　she
was　patting　him　and　caressing　him。　There　were　horses　and　Indians　on　each　side
of　the　race　track；　and　between　these　lines　Lucy　appeared　reluctant　to　come。

Bostil　strode　down　and；　waving　and　yelling　for　everybody　to　move　back　to　the
slope；　he　cleared　the　way　and　then　stood　out　in　front　alone。

〃Ride　up；　now；〃　he　called　to　Lucy。

It　was　then　Bostil　discovered　that　Lucy　did　not　wear　a　spur　and　she　had
neither　quirt　nor　whip。　She　turned　Wildfire　and　he　came　prancing　on；　head　and
mane　and　tail　erect。　His　action　was　beautiful；　springy；　and　every　few　steps；
as　Lucy　touched　him；　he　jumped　with　marvelous　ease　and　swiftness。

Bostil　became　all　eyes。　He　did　not　see　his　daughter　as　she　paraded　the　winner
before　the　applauding　throng。　And　Bostil　recorded　in　his　mind　that　which　he
would　never　forgeta　wild　stallion；　with　unbroken　spirit；　a　giant　of　a　horse；
glistening　red；　with　mane　like　dark…striped；　wind…blown　flame；　all　muscle；　all
grace；　all　power；　a　neck　long　and　slender　and　arching　to　the　small；　savagely
beautiful　head；　the　jaws　open；　and　the　thin…skinned；　pink…colored　nostrils
that　proved　the　Arabian　blood；　the　slanting　shoulders　and　the　deep；　broad
chest；　the　powerful　legs　and　knees　not　too　high　nor　too　low；　the　symmetrical
dark　hoofs　that　rang　on　the　little　stonesall　these　marks　so　significant　of
speed　and　endurance。　A　stallion　with　a　wonderful　physical　perfection　that
matched　the　savage；　ruthless　spirit　of　the　desert　killer　of　horses！

Lucy　waved　her　hand；　and　the　strange　rider　to　whom　Holley　had　called　attention
strode　out　of　the　crowd　toward　Wildfire。

Bostil's　gaze　took　in　the　splendid　build　of　this　lithe　rider；　the　clean…cut
face；　the　dark　eye。　This　fellow　had　a　shiny；　coiled　lasso　in　hand。　He　advanced
toward　Wildfire。　The　stallion　snorted　and　plunged。　If　ever　Bostil　raw　hate
expressed　by　a　horse　he　saw　it　then。　But　he　seemed　to　be　tractable　to　the
control　of　the　girl。　Bostil　swiftly　grasped　the　strange　situation。　Lucy　had
won　the　love　of　the　savage　stallion。　That　always　had　been　the　secret　of　her
power。　And　she　had　hated　Sage　King　because　he　alone　had　somehow　taken　a
dislike　to　her。　Horses　were　as　queer　as　people；　thought　Bostil。

The　rider　walked　straight　up　to　the　trembling　Wildfire。　When　Wildfire　plunged
and　reared　up　and　up　the　rider　leaped　for　the　bridle　and　with　an　iron　arm
pulled　the　horse　down。　Wildfire　tried　again；　almost　lifting　the　rider；　but　a
stinging　cut　from　the　lasso　made　him　c