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composure seemed unattainable。 The night was still； only the crickets and the
soft rustle of leaves breaking a dead silence。 Slone had the ears of a wild
horse in that he imagined sounds he did not really hear。 Many a lonely night
while he lay watching and waiting in the dark； ambushing a water…hole where
wild horses drank； he had heard soft treads that were only the substance of
dreams。 That was why； on this night when he was overstrained； he fancied he
saw Lucy coming； a silent； moving shadow； when in reality she did not come。
That was why he thought he heard very stealthy steps。
He waited。 Lucy did not come。 She had never failed before and he knew she
would come。 Waiting became hard。 He wanted to go back toward the houseto
intercept her on the way。 Still he kept to his post； watchful； listening； his
heart full。 And he tried to reason away his strange dread； his sense of a need
of hurry。 For a time he succeeded by dreaming of Lucy's sweetness； of her
courage； of what a wonderful girl she was。 Hours and hours he had passed in
such dreams。 One dream in particular always fascinated him； and it was one in
which he saw the girl riding Wildfire； winning a great race for her life。
Another； just as fascinating； but so haunting that he always dispelled it； was
a dream where Lucy； alone and in peril； fought with Cordts or Joel Creech for
more than her life。 These vague dreams were Slone's acceptance of the blood
and spirit in Lucy。 She was Bostil's daughter。 She had no sense of fear。 She
would fight。 And though Slone always thrilled with pride； he also trembled
with dread。
At length even wilder dreams of Lucy's rare moments； when she let herself go；
like a desert whirlwind； to envelop him in all her sweetness； could not avail
to keep Slone patient。 He began to pace to and fro under the big tree。 He
waited and waited。 What could have detained her？ Slone inwardly laughed at the
idea that either Holley or Aunt Jane could keep his girl indoors when she
wanted to come out to meet him。 Yet Lucy had always said something might
prevent。 There was no reason for Slone to be concerned。 He was mistaking his
thrills and excitement and love and disappointment for something in which
there was no reality。 Yet he could not help it。 The longer he waited the more
shadows glided beneath the cottonwoods； the more faint； nameless sounds he
heard。
He waited long after he became convinced she would not come。 Upon his return
through the grove he reached a point where the unreal and imaginative
perceptions were suddenly and stunningly broken。 He did hear a step。 He kept
on； as before； and in the deep shadow he turned。 He saw a man just faintly
outlined。 One of the riders had been watching himhad followed him！ Slone had
always expected this。 So had Lucy。 And now it had happened。 But Lucy had been
too clever。 She had not come。 She had found out or suspected the spy and she
had outwitted him。 Slone had reason to be prouder of Lucy； and he went back to
his cabin free from further anxiety。
Before he went to sleep； however； he heard the clatter of a number of horses
in the lane。 He could tell they were tired horses。 Riders returning； he
thought； and instantly corrected that； for riders seldom came in at night。 And
then it occurred to him that it might be Bostil's return。 But then it might be
the Creeches。 Slone had an uneasy return of puzzling thoughts。 These； however；
did not hinder drowsiness； and； deciding that the first thing in the morning
he would trail the Creeches； just to see where they had gone； he fell asleep。
In the morning the bright； broad day； with its dispelling reality； made Slone
regard himself differently。 Things that oppressed him in the dark of night
vanished in the light of the sun。 Still； he was curious about the Creeches；
and after he had done his morning's work he strolled out to take up their
trail。 It was not hard to follow in the lane； for no other horses had gone in
that direction since the Creeches had left。
Once up on the wide； windy slope the reach and color and fragrance seemed to
call to Slone irresistibly； and he fell to trailing these tracks just for the
love of a skill long unused。 Half a mile out the road turned toward Durango。
But the Creeches did not continue on that road。 They entered the sage。
Instantly Slone became curious。
He followed the tracks to a pile of rocks where the Creeches had made a
greasewood fire and had cooked a meal。 This was strangewithin a mile of the
Ford； where Brackton and others would have housed them。 What was stranger was
the fact that the trail started south from there and swung round toward the
village。
Slone's heart began to thump。 But he forced himself to think only of these
tracks and not any significance they might have。 He trailed the men down to a
bench on the slope； a few hundred yards from Bostil's grove； and here a
trampled space marked where a halt had been made and a wait。
And here Slone could no longer restrain conjecture and dread。 He searched and
searched。 He got on his knees。 He crawled through the sage all around the
trampled space。 Suddenly his heart seemed to receive a stab。 He had found
prints of Lucy's boots in the soft earth！ And he leaped up； wild and fierce；
needing to know no more。
He ran back to his cabin。 He never thought of Bostil； of Holley； of anything
except the story revealed in those little boot…tracks。 He packed a saddle…bag
with meat and biscuits； filled a canvas water…bottle； and； taking them and his
rifle； he hurried out to the corral。 First he took Nagger down to Brackton's
pasture and let him in。 Then returning； he went at the fiery stallion as he
had not gone in many a day； roped him； saddled him； mounted him； and rode off
with a hard； grim certainty that in Wildfire was Lucy's salvation。
Four hours later Slone halted on the crest of a ridge； in the cover of sparse
cedars； and surveyed a vast； gray； barren basin yawning and reaching out to a
rugged； broken plateau。
He expected to find Joel Creech returning on the back…trail； and he had taken
the precaution to ride on one side of the tracks he was following。 He did not
want Joel to cross his trail。 Slone had long ago solved the meaning of the
Creeches' flight。 They would use Lucy to ransom Bostil's horses； and more than
likely they would not let her go back。 That they had her was enough for Slone。
He was grim and implacable。
The eyes of the wild…horse hunter had not searched that basin long before they
picked out a dot which was not a rock or a cedar； but a horse。 Slone watched
it grow； and； hidden himself； he held his post until he knew the rider was
Joel Creech。 Slone drew his own horse back and tied him to a sage…bush amidst
some scant grass。 Then he returned to watch。 It appeared Creech was climbing
the ridge below Slone； and some distance away。 It was a desperate chance Joel
ran then； for Slone had set out to kill him。 It was certain that if Joel had
happened to ride near instead of far； Slone could not have helped but kill
him。 As it was； he desisted because he realized that Joel would acquaint
Bostil with the abducting of Lucy； and it might be that this would be well。
Slone was shaking when young Creech passed up and out of sight over the
ridgeshaking with the deadly grip of passion such as he had never known。 He
waited； slowly gaining control； and at length went back for Wildfire。
Then he rode boldly forth on the trail。 He calculated that old Creech would
take Lucy to some wild retreat in the canyons and there wait for Joel and the
horses。 Creech had almost certainly gone on and would be unaware of a pursuer
so closely on his trail。 Slone took the direction of the trail； and he saw a
low； dark notch in the rocky wall in the distance。 After that he paid no more
attention to choosing good ground for Wildfire than he did to the trail。 The
stallion was more tractable than Slone had ever found him。 He loved the open。
He smelled the sage and the wild。 He settled down into his long； easy；
swinging lope which seemed to eat up the miles。 Slone was obsessed with
thoughts centering round Lucy； and time and distance were scarcely
significant。
The sun had dipped full red in a golden west when Slone reached the wall of
rocks and the cleft where Creech's tracks and Lucy's； too； marked the camp。
Slone did not even dismount。 Riding on into the cleft； he wound at length into
a canyon and out of that into a larger one； where he found that Lucy had
remembered to leave a trail； and down this to a break in a high wall； and
through it to another winding； canyon。 The sun set； but Slone kept on as long
as he could see the trail； and after that； until an intersecting canyon made
it wise for him to halt。
There were rich grass and sweet water for his horse。 He himself was not
hungry； but he ate； he was not sleepy； but he slept。 And daylight found him
urging Wildfire in pursuit。 On the rocky places Slone found the cedar berries
Lucy had dropped。 He welcomed sight of them； but he did not need them。 This
man Creech could never hide a trail from him； Slone thought grimly； and it
suited him to follow that trail at a rapid trot。 If he lost the tracks for a
distance he went right on； and he