wildfire-第7节

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King　and　four　others　to　choose　from。　Bostil　held　out　stubbornly　for　a　long
race。　It　was　well　known　that　Sage　King　was　unbeatable　in　a　long　race。　If　there
were　any　chance　to　beat　him　it　must　be　at　short　distance。　The　vote　went
against　Bostil；　much　to　his　chagrin；　and　the　great　race　was　set　down　for　two
miles。

〃But　two　miles！　。　。　。　Two　miles！〃　he　kept　repeating。　〃Thet's　Blue　Roan's
distance。　Thet's　his　distance。　An'　it　ain't　fair　to　the　King！〃

His　guests；　excepting　Creech；　argued　with　him；　explained；　reasoned；　showed　him
that　it　was　fair　to　all　concerned。　Bostil　finally　acquiesced；　but　he　was　not
happy。　The　plain　fact　was　that　he　was　frightened。

When　the　men　were　departing　Bostil　called　Creech　back　into　the　sitting…room。
Creech　appeared　surprised；　yet　it　was　evident　that　he　would　have　been　glad　to
make　friends　with　Bostil。

〃What'll　you　take　for　the　roan？〃　Bostil　asked；　tersely；'　as　if　he　had　never
asked　that　before。

〃Bostil；　didn't　we　thresh　thet　out　beforean'　FELL　out　over　it？〃　queried
Creech；　with　a　deprecating　spread　of　his　hands。

〃Wal；　we　can　fall　in　again；　if　you'll　sell　or　trade　the　hoss。〃

〃I'm　sorry；　but　I　can't。〃

〃You　need　money　an'　hosses；　don't　you？〃　demanded　Bostil；　brutally。　He　had　no
conscience　in　a　matter　of　horse…dealing。

〃Lord　knows；　I　do；〃　replied　Creech。

〃Wal；　then；　here's　your　chance。　I'll　give　you　five　hundred　in　gold　an'
Sarchedon　to　boot。〃

Creech　looked　as　if　he　had　not　heard　aright。　Bostil　repeated　the　offer。

〃No；〃　replied　Creech。

〃I'll　make　it　a　thousand　an'　throw　Plume　in　with　Sarch；〃　flashed　Bostil。

〃No！〃　Creech　turned　pale　and　swallowed　hard。

〃Two　thousand　an'　Dusty　Ben　along　with　the　others？〃　This　was　an　unheard…of
price　to　pay　for　any　horse。　Creech　saw　that　Bostil　was　desperate。　It　was　an
almost　overpowering　temptation。　Evidently　Creech　resisted　it　only　by　applying
all　his　mind　to　the　thought　of　his　clean…limbed；　soft…eyed；　noble　horse。

Bostil　did　not　give　Creech　time　to　speak。　〃Twenty…five　hundred　an'　Two　Face
along　with　the　rest！〃

〃My　God；　Bostilstop　it！　I　can't　PART　with　Blue　Roan。　You're　rich　an'　you've
no　heart。　Thet　I　always　knew。　At　least　to　me　you　never　had；　since　I　owned　them
two　racers。　Didn't　I　beg　you；　a　little　time　back；　to　lend　me　a　few　hundred？　To
meet　thet　debt？　An'　you　wouldn't；　unless　I'd　sell　the　hosses。　An'　I　had　to
lose　my　sheep。　Now　I'm　a　poor　mangettin'　poorer　all　the　time。　But　I　won't
sell　or　trade　Blue　Roan；　not　for　all　you've　got！〃

Creech　seemed　to　gain　strength　with　his　speech　and　passion　with　the　strength。
His　eyes　glinted　at　the　hard；　paling　face　of　his　rival。　He　raised　a　clenching
fist。

〃An'　by　Gd；　I'm　goin'　to　win　thet　race！〃

During　that　week　Lucy　had　heard　many　things　about　Joel　Creech；　and　some　of
them　were　disquieting。

Some　rider　had　not　only　found　Joel's　clothes　on　the　trail；　but　he　had
recognized　the　track　of　the　horse　Lucy　rode；　and　at　once　connected　her　with
the　singular　discovery。　Coupling　that　with　Joel's　appearance　in　the　village
incased　in　a　heaving　armor　of　adobe；　the　riders　guessed　pretty　close　to　the
truth。　For　them　the　joke　was　tremendous。　And　Joel　Creech　was　exceedingly
sensitive　to　ridicule。　The　riders　made　life　unbearable　for　him。　They　had　fun
out　of　it　as　long　as　Joel　showed　signs　of　taking　the　joke　manfully；　which　was
not　long；　and　then　his　resentment　won　their　contempt。　That　led　to　sarcasm　on
their　part　and　bitter　anger　on　his。　It　came　to　Lucy's　ears　that　Joel　began　to
act　and　talk　strangely。　She　found　out　that　the　rider　Van　had　knocked　Joel　down
in　Brackton's　store　and　had　kicked　a　gun　out　of　his　hand。　Van　laughed　off　the
rumor　and　Brackton　gave　her　no　satisfaction。　Moreover；　she　heard　no　other
rumors。　The　channels　of　gossip　had　suddenly　closed　to　her。　Bostil；　when
questioned　by　Lucy；　swore　in　a　way　that　amazed　her；　and　all　he　told　her　was　to
leave　Creech　alone。　Finally；　when　Muncie　discharged　Joel；　who　worked　now　and
then；　Lucy　realized　that　something　was　wrong　with　Joel　and　that　she　was　to
blame　for　it。

She　grew　worried　and　anxious　and　sorry；　but　she　held　her　peace；　and　determined
to　find　out　for　herself　what　was　wrong。　Every　day　when　she　rode　out　into　the
sage　she　expected　to　meet　him；　or　at　least　see　him　somewhere；　nevertheless
days　went　by　and　there　was　no　sign　of　him。

One　afternoon　she　saw　some　Indians　driving　sheep　down　the　river　road　toward
the　ford；　and；　acting　upon　impulse；　she　turned　her　horse　after　them。

Lucy　seldom　went　down　the　river　road。　Riding　down　and　up　was　merely　work；　and
a　horse　has　as　little　liking　for　it　as　she　had。　Usually　it　was　a　hot；　dusty
trip；　and　the　great；　dark；　overhanging　walls　had　a　depressing　effect；　upon
her。　She　always　felt　awe　at　the　gloomy　canyon　and　fear　at　the　strange；
murmuring　red　river。　But　she　started　down　this　afternoon　in　the　hope　of
meeting　Joel。　She　had　a　hazy　idea　of　telling　him　she　was　sorry　for　what　she
had　done；　and　of　asking　him　to　forget　it　and　pay　no　more　heed　to　the　riders。

The　sheep　raised　a　dust…cloud　in　the　sandy　wash　where　the　road　wound　down；　and
Lucy　hung　back　to　let　them　get　farther　ahead。　Gradually　the　tiny　roar　of
pattering　hoofs　and　the　blended　bleating　and　baaing　died　away。　The　dust…cloud；
however；　hung　over　the　head　of　the　ravine；　and　Lucy　had　to　force　Sarchedon
through　it。　Sarchedon　did　not　mind　sand　and　dust；　but　he　surely　hated　the
smell　of　sheep。　Lucy　seldom　put　a　spur　to　Sarchedon；　still；　she　gave　him　a
lash　with　her　quirt；　and　then　he　went　on　obediently；　if　disgustedly。　He
carried　his　head　like　a　horse　that　wondered　why　his　mistress　preferred　to
drive　him　down　into　an　unpleasant　hole　when　she　might　have　been　cutting　the
sweet；　cool　sage　wind　up　on　the　slope。

The　wash；　with　its　sand　and　clay　walls；　dropped　into　a　gulch；　and　there　was　an
end　of　green　growths。　The　road　led　down　over　solid　rock。　Gradually　the　rims　of
the　gorge　rose；　shutting　out　the　light　and　the　cliffs。　It　was　a　winding　road
and　one　not　safe　to　tarry　on　in　a　stormy　season。　Lucy　had　seen　boulders
weighing　a　ton　go　booming　down　that　gorge　during　one　of　the　sudden　fierce
desert　storms；　when　a　torrent　of　water　and　mud　and　stone　went　plunging　on　to
the　river。　The　ride　through　here　was　short；　though　slow。　Lucy　always　had　time
to　adjust　her　faculties　for　the　overpowering　contrast　these　lower　regions
presented。　Long　before　she　reached　the　end　of　the　gorge　she　heard　the　sullen
thunder　of　the　river。　The　river　was　low；　too；　for　otherwise　there　would　have
been　a　deafening　roar。

Presently　she　came　out　upon　a　lower　branch　of　the　canyon；　into　a　great
red…walled　space；　with　the　river　still　a　thousand　feet　below；　and　the　cliffs
towering　as　high　above　her。　The　road　led　down　along　this　rim　where　to　the　left
all　was　open；　across　to　the　split　and　peaked　wall　opposite。　The　river　appeared
to　sweep　round　a　bold；　bulging　comer　a　mile　above。　It　was　a　wide；　swift；
muddy；　turbulent　stream。　A　great　bar　of　sand　stretched　out　from　the　shore。
Beyond　it；　through　the　mouth　of　an　intersecting　canyon；　could　be　seen　a　clump
of　cottonwoods　and　willows　that　marked　the　home　of　the　Creeches。　Lucy　could
not　see　the　shore　nearest　her；　as　it　was　almost　directly　under　her。　Besides；
in　this　narrow　road；　on　a　spirited　horse；　she　was　not　inclined　to　watch　the
scenery。　She　hurried　Sarchedon　down　and　down；　under　the　overhanging　brows　of
rock；　to　where　the　rim　sloped　out　and　failed。　Here　was　a　half…acre　of　sand；
with　a　few　scant　willows；　set　down　seemingly　in　a　dent　at　the　base　of　the
giant；　beetling　cliffs。　The　place　was　light；　though　the　light　seemed　a　kind　of
veiled　red；　and　to　Lucy　always　ghastly。　She　could　not　have　been　joyous　with
that　river　moaning　before　her；　even　if　it　had　been　up　on　a　level；　in　the　clear
and　open　day。　As　a　little　girl　eight　years　old　she　had　conceived　a　terror　and
hatred　of　this　huge；　jagged　rent　so　full　of　red　haze　and　purple　smoke　and　the
thunder　of　rushing　waters。　And　she　had　never　wholly　outgrown　it。　The　joy　of
the　sun　and　wind；　the　rapture　in　the　boundless　open；　the　sweetness　in　the
sagethese　were　not　possible　here。　Something　mighty　and　ponderous；　heavy　as
those　colossal　cliffs；　weighted　down　her　spirit。　The　voice　of　the　river　drove
out　any　dream。　Here　was　the　incessant　frowning　presence　of　destructive　forces
of　nature。　And　the　ford　was　associated　with　catastropheto　sheep；　to　horses
and　to　men。

Lucy　rode　across　the　bar　to　the　shore　where　the　Indians　were　loading　the　sheep
into　an　immense　rude　flatboat。　As　the　sheep　were　frightened；　the　loading　was
no　easy　task。　Their　bleating　could　be　heard　above　the　roar　of　the　river。
Bostil's　boatmen；　Shugrue　and　Somers；　stood　knee…deep　in　the　quicksand　of　the
bar；　and　their　efforts　to　keep　free…footed　were　as　strenuous　as　their　handling
of　the　sheep。　Presently　the　flock　was　all　crowded　on　board；　the　Indians
followed；　and　then　the　boatmen　slid　the　unwieldy　craft　off　the　sand…bar。　Then；
each　manning　a　clumsy　oar；　they　pulled　up…stream。　Along　shore　were　whirling；
slow　eddies；　and　there　rowing　was　possible。　Out　in　that　swift　current　it　would
have　been　folly　to　try　to　contend　with　it；　let　alone　make　progress。　The　method
of　crossing　was　to　row　up　along　the　shore　as　far　as　a　great　cape　of　rock
jutting　out；　and　there　make　into