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scene。
With keen； slow gaze Slone studied the lay of wall and slope； and when he had
circled the huge depression he made sure that Wildfire could not get out
except by the narrow pass through which he had gone in。 Slone sat astride
Nagger in the mouth of this passa wash a few yards wide； walled by broken；
rough rock on one side and an insurmountable slope on the other。
〃If this hole was only little； now；〃 sighed Slone； as he gazed at the
sweeping； shimmering oval floor； 〃I might have a chance。 But down therewe
couldn't get near him。〃
There was no water in that dry bowl。 Slone reflected on the uselessness of
keeping Wildfire down there； because Nagger could not go without water as long
as Wildfire。 For the first time Slone hesitated。 It seemed merciless to Nagger
to drive him down into this hot； windy hole。 The wind blew from the west； and
it swooped up the slope； hot； with the odor of dry； dead grass。
But that hot wind stirred Slone with an idea； and suddenly he was tense；
excited； glowing； yet grim and hard。
〃Wildfire； I'll make you run with your namesake in that high grass；〃 called
Slone。 The speech was full of bitter failure； of regret； of the hardness of a
rider who could not give up the horse to freedom。
Slone meant to ride down there and fire the long grass。 In that wind there
would indeed be wildfire to race with the red stallion。 It would perhaps mean
his death； at least it would chase him out of that hole； where to follow him
would be 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 nightthenI 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
upan' 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
waterthe 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 pass
he had entered； unless he could fly。
Slone lay in the shade； his head propped on his saddle； and while gazing down
into the shimmering hollow he began to plan。 He calculated that he must be
able to carry fire swiftly across the far end of the basin； so that he would
not be absent long from the mouth of the pass。 Fire was always a difficult
matter； since he must depend only on flint and steel。 He decided to wait till
dark； build a fire with dead cedar sticks； and carry a bundle of them with
burning ends。 He felt assured that the wind caused by riding would keep them
burning。 After he had lighted the grass all he had to do was to hurry back to
his station and there await developments。
The day passed slowly； and it was hot。 The heat…waves rose in dark； wavering
lines and veils from the valley。 The wind blew almost a gale。 Thin； curling
sheets of sand blew up over the crests of the slopes； and the sound it made
was a soft； silken rustling； very low。 The sky was a steely blue above and
copper close over the distant walls。
That afternoon； toward the close； Slone ate the last of the meat。 At sunset
the wind died away and the air cooled。 There was a strip of red along the wall
of rock and on the tips of the monuments； and it lingered there for long； a
strange； bright crown。 Nagger was not far away； but Wildfire had disappeared；
probably behind one of the monuments。
When twilight fell Slone went down after Nagger and； returning with him； put
on bridle and saddle。 Then he began to search for suitable sticks of wood。
Farther back in the pass he found stunted dead cedars； and from these secured
enough for his purpose。 He kindled a fire and burnt the ends of the sticks
into red embers。 Making a bundle of these； he put them under his arm； the
dull； glowing ends backward； and then mounted his horse。
It was just about dark when he faced down into the valley。 When he reached
level ground he kept to the edge of the left slope and put Nagger to a good
trot。 The grass and brush were scant here； and the color of the sand was
light； so he had no difficulty in traveling。
From time to time his horse went through grass； and its dry； crackling rustle；
showing how it would burn； was music to Slone。 Gradually the monuments began
to loom up； bold and black against the blue sky； with stars seemingly hanging
close over them。 Slone had calculated that the basin was smaller than it
really was； in both length and breadth。 This worried him。 Wildfire might see
or hear or scent him； and make a break back to the pass and thus escape。 Slone
was glad when the huge； dark monuments were indistinguishable from the black；
frowning wall。 He had to go slower here； because of the darkness。 But at last
he reached the slow rise of jumbled rock that evidently marked the extent of
weathering on that side。 Here he turned to the right and rode out into the
valley。 The floor was level and thickly overgrown with long； dead grass and
dead greasewood； as dry as tinder。 It was easy to account for the dryness；
neither snow nor rain had visited that valley for many months。 Slone whipped
one of the sticks in the wind and soon had the smoldering end red and
showering sparks。 Then he dropped the stick in the grass； with curious intent
and a strange feeling of regret。
Instantly the grass blazed with a little sputtering roar。 Nagger snorted。
〃Wildfire！〃 exclaimed Slone。 That word was a favorite one with riders； and now
Slone used it both to call out his menace to the stallion and to express his
feeling for that blaze； already running wild。
Without looking back Slone rode across the valley； dropping a glowing stick
every quarter of a mile。 When he reached the other side there were a dozen
fires behind him； burning slowly； with white smoke rising lazily。 Then he
loped Nagger along the side back to the sandy ascent； and on up to the mouth
of the pass。 There he searched for tracks。 Wildfire had not gone out； and
Slone experienced relief and exultation。 He took up a position in the middle
of the narrowest part of the pass； and there； with Nagger ready for anything；
he once more composed himself to watch and wait。
Far across the darkness of the valley； low down； twelve lines of fire； widely
separated； crept toward one another。 They appeared thin and slow； with only an
occasional leaping flame。 And some of the black spaces must have been
monuments； blotting out the creeping snail…lines of red。 Slone watched；
strangely fascinated。
〃What do you think of that？〃 he said； aloud； and he meant his query for
Wildfire。
As he watched the lines perceptibly lengthened and brightened and pale shadows
of smoke began to appear。 Over at the left of the valley the two brightest
fires； the first he had started； crept closer and closer together。 They seemed
long in covering distance。 But not a breath of wind stirred； and besides they
really might move swiftly； without looking so to Slone。 When the two lines met
a sudden and larger blaze rose。
〃Ah！〃 said the rider； and then he watched the other lines creeping together。
How slowly fire moved； he thought。 The red stallion would have every chance to
run between those lines； if he dared。 But a wild horse feared nothing like
fire。 This one would not run the gantle