useless.

"I'd make you hump now to get away if I could get behind you," muttered
Slone. He saw that if he could fire the grass on the other side the
wind of flame would drive Wildfire straight toward him. The slopes and
walls narrowed up to the pass, but high grass grew to within a few rods
of where Slone stood. But it seemed impossible to get behind Wildfire.

"At night--then--I could get round him," said Slone, thinking hard and
narrowing his gaze to scan the circle of wall and slope. "Why not? ...
No wind at night. That grass would burn slow till mornin'--till the
wind came up--an' it's been west for days."

Suddenly Slone began to pound the patient Nagger and to cry out to him
in wild exultance.

"Old horse, we've got him! ... We've got him! ... We'll put a rope on
him before this time to-morrow!"

Slone yielded to his strange, wild joy, but it did not last long, soon
succeeding to sober, keen thought. He rode down into the bowl a mile,
making absolutely certain that Wildfire could not climb out on that
side. The far end, beyond the monuments, was a sheer wall of rock. Then
he crossed to the left side. Here the sandy slope was almost too steep
for even him to go up. And there was grass that would burn. He returned
to the pass assured that Wildfire had at last fallen into a trap the
like Slone had never dreamed of. The great horse was doomed to run into
living flame or the whirling noose of a lasso.

Then Slone reflected. Nagger had that very morning had his fill of good
water--the first really satisfying drink for days. If he was rested
that day, on the morrow he would be fit for the grueling work possibly
in store for him. Slone unsaddled the horse and turned him loose, and
with a snort he made down the gentle slope for the grass. Then Slone
carried his saddle to a shady spot afforded by a slab of rock and a
dwarf cedar, and here he composed himself to rest and watch and think
and wait.

Wildfire was plainly in sight no more than two miles away. Gradually he
was grazing along toward the monuments and the far end of the great
basin. Slone believed, because the place was so large, that Wildfire
thought there was a way out on the other side or over the slopes or
through the walls. Never before had the far-sighted stallion made a
mistake. Slone suddenly felt the keen, stabbing fear of an outlet
somewhere. But it left him quickly. He had studied those slopes and
walls. Wildfire could not get out, except by the