n,
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 no mere surface
slide. It was deep. It stopped--then started again--and again stopped.
Wildfire appeared to be sinking deeper and deeper. His struggles only
embedded him more firmly. Then the bank of sand, with an ominous, low
roar, began to move once more. This time it slipped swiftly. The dust
rose in a cloud, almost obscuring the horse. Long streams of gravel
rattled down, and waterfalls of sand waved over the steps of the slope.