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〃Sure。 And I'm to RIDE him。 You know how Dad means that。〃
〃Wal； now； I'm doggoned！〃 added Farlane； looking worried and pleased at once。
〃I reckon； Miss Lucy； youyou wouldn't fool me？〃
〃Why； Farlane！〃 returned Lucy； reproachfully。 〃Did I ever do a single thing
around horses that you didn't want me to？〃
Farlane rubbed his chin beard somewhat dubiously。 〃Wal； Miss Lucy； not exactly
while you was around the hosses。 But I reckon when you onct got up； you've
sorta forgot a few times。〃
All the riders laughed； and Lucy joined them。
〃I'm safe when I'm up； you know that；〃 she replied。
They brought out the gray； and after the manner of riders who had the care of
a great horse and loved him； they curried and combed and rubbed him before
saddling him。
〃Reckon you'd better ride Van's saddle；〃 suggested Farlane。 〃Them races is
close now； an' a strange saddle〃
〃Of course。 Don't change anything he's used to； except the stirrups；〃 replied
Lucy。
Despite her antipathy toward Sage King； Lucy could not gaze at him without all
a rider's glory in a horse。 He was sleek； so graceful； so racy； so near the
soft gray of the sage； so beautiful in build and action。 Then he was the kind
of a horse that did not have to be eternally watched。 He was spirited and full
of life； eager to run； but when Farlane called for him to stand still he
obeyed。 He was the kind of a horse that a child could have played around in
safety。 He never kicked。 He never bit。 He never bolted。 It was splendid to see
him with Farlane or with Bostil。 He did not like Lucy very well； a fact that
perhaps accounted for Lucy's antipathy。 For that matter； he did not like any
woman。 If he had a bad trait； it came out when Van rode him； but all the
riders； and Bostil； too； claimed that Van was to blame for that。
〃Thar； I reckon them stirrups is right；〃 declared Farlane。 〃Now； Miss Lucy；
hold him tight till he wears off thet edge。 He needs work。〃
Sage King would not kneel for Lucy as Sarchedon did； and he was too high for
her to mount from the ground； so she mounted from a rock。 She took to the
road； and then the first trail into the sage； intending to trot him ten or
fifteen miles down into the valley； and give him some fast； warm work on the
return。
The day was early in May and promised to grow hot。 There was not a cloud in
the blue sky。 The wind； laden with the breath of sage； blew briskly from the
west。 All before Lucy lay the vast valley； gray and dusky gray； then blue；
then purple where the monuments stood； and； farther still； dark ramparts of
rock。 Lucy had a habit of dreaming while on horseback； a habit all the riders
had tried to break； but she did not give it rein while she rode Sarchedon； and
assuredly now； up on the King； she never forgot him for an instant。 He shied
at mockingbirds and pack…rats and blowing blossoms and even at butterflies；
and he did it； Lucy thought； just because he was full of mischief。 Sage King
had been known to go steady when there had been reason to shy。 He did not like
Lucy and he chose to torment her。 Finally he earned a good dig from a spur；
and then； with swift pounding of hoofs； he plunged and veered and danced in
the sage。 Lucy kept her temper； which was what most riders did not do； and by
patience and firmness pulled Sage King out of his prancing back into the
trail。 He was not the least cross…grained； and； having had his little spurt；
he settled down into easy going。
In an hour Lucy was ten miles or more from home； and farther down in the
valley than she had ever been。 In fact； she had never before been down the
long slope to the valley floor。 How changed the horizon became！ The monuments
loomed up now； dark； sentinel…like； and strange。 The first one； a great red
rock； seemed to her some five miles away。 It was lofty； straight…sided； with a
green slope at its base。 And beyond that the other monuments stretched out
down the valley。 Lucy decided to ride as far as the first one before turning
back。 Always these monuments had fascinated her； and this was her opportunity
to ride near one。 How lofty they were； how wonderfully colored； and how
comely！
Presently； over the left； where the monuments were thicker； and gradually
merged their slopes and lines and bulk into the yellow walls； she saw low；
drifting clouds of smoke。
〃Well； what's that； I wonder？〃 she mused。 To see smoke on the horizon in that
direction was unusual； though out toward Durango the grassy benches would
often burn over。 And these low clouds of smoke resembled those she had seen
before。
〃It's a long way off；〃 she added。
So she kept on； now and then gazing at the smoke。 As she grew nearer to the
first monument she was surprised； then amazed； at its height and surpassing
size。 It was mountain…higha grand towersmooth； worn； glistening； yellow
and red。 The trail she had followed petered out in a deep wash； and beyond
that she crossed no more trails。 The sage had grown meager and the greasewoods
stunted and dead； and cacti appeared on barren places。 The grass had not
failed； but it was not rich grass such as the horses and cattle grazed upon
miles back on the slope。 The air was hot down here。 The breeze was heavy and
smelled of fire； and the sand was blowing here and there。 She had a sense of
the bigness； the openness of this valley； and then she realized its wildness
and strangeness。 These lonely； isolated monuments made the place different
from any she had visited。 They did not seem mere standing rocks。 They seemed
to retreat all the time as she approached； and they watched her。 They
interested her； made her curious。 What had formed all these strange monuments？
Here the ground was level for miles and miles； to slope gently up to the bases
of these huge rocks。 In an old book she had seen pictures of the Egyptian
pyramids； but these appeared vaster； higher； and stranger； and they were
sheerly perpendicular。
Suddenly Sage King halted sharply； shot up his ears； and whistled。 Lucy was
startled。 That from the King meant something。 Hastily； with keen glance she
swept the foreground。 A mile on； near the monument； was a small black spot。 It
seemed motionless。 But the King's whistle had proved it to be a horse。 When
Lucy had covered a quarter of the intervening distance she could distinguish
the horse and that there appeared some thing strange about his position。 Lucy
urged Sage King into a lope and soon drew nearer。 The black horse had his head
down； yet he did not appear to be grazing。 He was as still as a statue。 He
stood just outside a clump of greasewood and cactus。
Suddenly a sound pierced the stillness。 The King jumped and snorted in fright。
For an instant Lucy's blood ran cold； for it was a horrible cry。 Then she
recognized it as the neigh of a horse in agony。 She had heard crippled and
dying horses utter that long…drawn and blood…curdling neigh。 The black horse
had not moved； so the sound could not have come from him。 Lucy thought Sage
King acted more excited than the occasion called for。 Then remembering her
father's warning； she reined in on top of a little knoll； perhaps a hundred
yards from where the black horse stood； and she bent her keen gaze forward。
It was a huge； gaunt； shaggy black horse she saw； with the saddle farther up
on his shoulders than it should have been。 He stood motionless； as if utterly
exhausted。 His forelegs were braced； so that he leaned slightly back。 Then
Lucy saw a rope。 It was fast to the saddle and stretched down into the cactus。
There was no other horse in sight； nor any living thing。 The immense monument
dominated the scene。 It seemed stupendous to Lucy； sublime； almost frightful。
She hesitated。 She knew there was another horse； very likely at the other end
of that lasso。 Probably a rider had been thrown； perhaps killed。 Certainly a
horse had been hurt。 Then on the moment rang out the same neigh of agony； only
weaker and shorter。 Lucy no longer feared an ambush。 That was a cry which
could not be imitated by a man or forced from a horse。 There was probably
death； certainly suffering； near at hand。 She spurred the King on。
There was a little slope to descend； a wash to cross； a bench to climb and
then she rode up to the black horse。 Sage King needed harder treatment than
Lucy had ever given him。
〃What's wrong with you？〃 she demanded； pulling him down。 Suddenly； as she felt
him tremble； she realized that he was frightened。 〃That's funny！〃 Then when
she got him quiet she looked around。
The black horse was indeed huge。 His mane； his shaggy flanks； were lathered as
if he had been smeared with heavy soap…suds。 He raised his head to look at
her。 Lucy； accustomed to horses all her life； saw that this one welcomed her
arrival。 But he was almost ready to drop。
Two taut lassoes stretched from the pommel of his saddle down a little into a
depression full of brush and cactus and rocks。 Then Lucy saw a red horse。 He
was down in a bad position。 She heard his low； choking heaves。 Probably he had
broken legs or back。 She could not bear to see a horse in pain。 She would do
what was possible； even to the extent of putting him out of his misery； if
nothing else could be done。 Yet she scanned the surroundings closely