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run between those lines； if he dared。 But a wild horse feared nothing like
fire。 This one would not run the gantlet of flames。 Nevertheless； Slone felt
more and more relieved as the lines closed。 The hours of the night dragged
past until at length one long； continuous line of fire spread level across the
valley； its bright； red line broken only where the monuments of stone were
silhouetted against it。
The darkness of the valley changed。 The light of the moon changed。 The
radiance of the stars changed。 Either the line of fire was finding denser fuel
to consume or it was growing appreciably closer； for the flames began to grow；
to leap； and to flare。
Slone strained his ears for the thud of hoofs on sand。
The time seemed endless in its futility of results； but fleeting after it had
passed； and he could tell how the hours fled by the ever…recurring need to
replenish the little fire he kept burning in the pass。
A broad belt of valley grew bright in the light； and behind it loomed the
monuments； weird and dark； with columns of yellow and white smoke wreathing
them。
Suddenly Slone's sensitive ear vibrated to a thrilling sound。 He leaned down
to place his ear to the sand。 Rapid； rhythmic beat of hoofs made him leap to
his feet； reaching for his lasso with right hand and a gun with his left。
Nagger lifted his head； sniffed the air； and snorted。 Slone peered into the
black belt of gloom that lay below him。 It would be hard to see a horse there；
unless he got high enough to be silhouetted against that line of fire now
flaring to the sky。 But he heard the beat of hoofs； swift； sharp；
louderlouder。 The night shadows were deceptive。 That wonderful light
confused him； made the place unreal。 Was he dreaming？ Or had the long chase
and his privations unhinged his mind？ He reached for Nagger。 No！ The big black
was real； alive； quivering； pounding the sand。 He scented an enemy。
Once more Slone peered down into the void or what seemed a void。 But it； too；
had changed； lightened。 The whole valley was brightening。 Great palls of
curling smoke rose white and yellow； to turn back as the monuments met their
crests； and then to roll upward； blotting out the stars。 It was such a light
as he had never seen； except in dreams。 Pale moonlight and dimmed starlight
and wan dawn all vague and strange and shadowy under the wild and vivid light
of burning grass。
In the pale path before Slone； that fanlike slope of sand which opened down
into the valley； appeared a swiftly moving black object； like a fleeting
phantom。 It was a phantom horse。 Slone felt that his eyes； deceived by his
mind； saw racing images。 Many a wild chase he had lived in dreams on some far
desert。 But what was that beating in his earssharp； swift； even； rhythmic？
Never had his ears played him false。 Never had he heard things in his dreams。
That running object was a horse and he was coming like the wind。 Slone felt
something grip his heart。 All the time and endurance and pain and thirst and
suspense and longing and hopelessnessthe agony of the whole endless chase
closed tight on his heart in that instant。
The running horse halted just in the belt of light cast by the burning grass。
There he stood sharply defined； clear as a cameo； not a hundred paces from
Slone。 It was Wildfire。
Slone uttered an involuntary cry。 Thrill on thrill shot through him。 Delight
and hope and fear and despair claimed him in swift； successive flashes。 And
then again the ruling passion of a rider held himthe sheer glory of a grand
and unattainable horse。 For Slone gave up Wildfire in that splendid moment。
How had he ever dared to believe he could capture that wild stallion？ Slone
looked and looked； filling his mind； regretting nothing； sure that the moment
was reward for all he had endured。
The weird lights magnified Wildfire and showed him clearly。 He seemed
gigantic。 He shone black against the fire。 His head was high； his mane flying。
Behind him the fire flared and the valley…wide column of smoke rolled
majestically upward； and the great monuments seemed to retreat darkly and
mysteriously as the flames advanced beyond them。 It was a beautiful； unearthly
spectacle； with its silence the strangest feature。
But suddenly Wildfire broke that silence with a whistle which to Slone's
overstrained faculties seemed a blast as piercing as the splitting sound of
lightning。 And with the whistle Wildfire plunged up toward the pass。 Slone
yelled at the top of his lungs and fired his gun before he could terrorize the
stallion and drive him back down the slope。 Soon Wildfire became again a
running black object； and then he disappeared。
The great line of fire had gotten beyond the monuments and now stretched
unbroken across the valley from wall to slope。 Wildfire could never pierce
that line of flames。 And now Slone saw； in the paling sky to the east； that
dawn was at hand。
CHAPTER VII
Slone looked grimly glad when simultaneously with the first red flash of
sunrise a breeze fanned his cheek。 All that was needed now was a west wind。
And here came the assurance of it。
The valley appeared hazy and smoky； with slow； rolling clouds low down where
the line of fire moved。 The coming of daylight paled the blaze of the grass；
though here and there Slone caught flickering glimpses of dull red flame。 The
wild stallion kept to the center of the valley； restlessly facing this way and
that； but never toward the smoke。 Slone made sure that Wildfire gradually gave
ground as the line of smoke slowly worked toward him。
Every moment the breeze freshened； grew steadier and stronger； until Slone saw
that it began to clear the valley of the low…hanging smoke。 There came a time
when once more the blazing line extended across from slope to slope。
Wildfire was cornered； trapped。 Many times Slone nervously uncoiled and
recoiled his lasso。 Presently the great chance of his life would comethe
hardest and most important throw he would ever have with a rope。 He did not
miss often； but then he missed sometimes； and here he must be swift and sure。
It annoyed him that his hands perspired and trembled and that something
weighty seemed to obstruct his breathing。 He muttered that he was pretty much
worn out； not in the best of condition for a hard fight with a wild horse。
Still he would capture Wildfire； his mind was unalterably set there。 He
anticipated that the stallion would make a final and desperate rush past him；
and he had his plan of action all outlined。 What worried him was the
possibility of Wildfire doing some unforeseen feat at the very last。 Slone was
prepared for hours of strained watching； and then a desperate effort； and then
a shock that might kill Wildfire and cripple Nagger； or a long race and fight。
But he soon discovered that he was wrong about the long watch and wait。 The
wind had grown strong and was driving the fire swiftly。 The flames； fanned by
the breeze； leaped to a formidable barrier。 In less than an hour； though the
time seemed only a few moments to the excited Slone； Wildfire had been driven
down toward the narrowing neck of the valley； and he had begun to run； to and
fro； back and forth。 Any moment； then； Slone expected him to grow terrorized
and to come tearing up toward the pass。
Wildfire showed evidence of terror； but he did not attempt to make the pass。
Instead he went at the right…hand slope of the valley and began to climb。 The
slope was steep and soft； yet the stallion climbed up and up。 The dust flew in
clouds； the gravel rolled down； and the sand followed in long streams。
Wildfire showed his keenness by zigzagging up the slope。
〃Go ahead； you red devil！〃 yelled Slone。 He was much elated。 In that soft bank
Wildfire would tire out while not hurting himself。
Slone watched the stallion in admiration and pity and exultation。 Wildfire did
not make much headway； for he slipped back almost as much as he gained。 He
attempted one place after another where he failed。 There was a bank of clay；
some few feet high； and he could not round it at either end or surmount it in
the middle。 Finally he literally pawed and cut a path； much as if he were
digging in the sand for water。 When he got over that he was not much better
off。 The slope above was endless and grew steeper； more difficult toward the
top。 Slone knew absolutely that no horse could climb over it。 He grew
apprehensive； however； for Wildfire might stick up there on the slope until
the line of fire passed。 The horse apparently shunned any near proximity to
the fire； and performed prodigious efforts to escape。
〃He'll be ridin' an avalanche pretty soon；〃 muttered Slone。
Long sheets of sand and gravel slid down to spill thinly over the low bank。
Wildfire； now sinking to his knees； worked steadily upward till he had reached
a point halfway up the slope； at the head of a long； yellow bank of
treacherous…looking sand。 Here he was halted by a low bulge； which he might
have surmounted had his feet been free。 But he stood deep in the sand。 For the
first time he looked down at the sweeping fire； and then at Slone。
Suddenly the bank of sand began to slide with him。 He snorted in fright。 The
avalanche started slowly and was evidently n