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's 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, n