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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