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her； though she thought little about it。 Van had taken up the training of the
King； and Lucy had deliberately quarreled with him so that she would be free
to ride where she listed。 Farlane nagged her occasionally about her rides into
the sage； insisting that she must not go so far and stay so long。 And after
Van's return to work he made her ride Sarchedon。
Things had happened at the Ford which would have concerned Lucy greatly had
she not been over…excited about her own affairs。 Some one had ambushed Bostil
in the cottonwoods near his house and had shot at him； narrowly missing him。
Bostil had sworn he recognized the shot as having come from a rifle； and that
he knew to whom it belonged。 The riders did not believe this； and said some
boy； shooting at a rabbit or coyote； had been afraid to confess he had nearly
hit Bostil。 The riders all said Bostil was not wholly himself of late。 The
river was still low。 The boat had not been repaired。 And Creech's horses were
still on the other side。
These things concerned Lucy； yet they only came and went swiftly through her
mind。 She was obsessed by things intimately concerning herself。
〃Oh； I oughtn't to go；〃 she said； aloud。 But she did not even check
Sarchedon's long swing； his rocking…chair lope。 She had said a hundred times
that she ought not go again out to the monuments。 For Lin Slone had fallen
despairingly； terribly in love with her。
It was not this； she averred； but the monuments and the beautiful Wildfire
that had woven a spell round her she could not break。 She had ridden Wildfire
all through that strange region of monuments and now they claimed something of
her。 Just as wonderful was Wildfire's love for her。 The great stallion hated
Slone and loved Lucy。 Of all the remarkable circumstances she had seen or
heard about a horse； this fact was the most striking。 She could do anything
with him。 All that savageness and wildness disappeared when she approached
him。 He came at her call。 He whistled at sight of her。 He sent out a ringing
blast of disapproval when she rode away。 Every day he tried to bite or kick
Slone； but he was meek under Lucy's touch。
But this morning there came to Lucy the first vague doubt of herself。 Once
entering her mind； that doubt became clear。 And then she vowed she liked Slone
as she might a brother。 And something within her accused her own conviction。
The conviction was her real self； and the accusation was some other girl
lately born in her。 Lucy did not like this new person。 She was afraid of her。
She would not think of her unless she had to。
〃I never cared for himthat way；〃 she said； aloud。 〃I don'tI
couldn'teverIIlove Lin Slone！〃
The spoken thoughtthe sound of the words played havoc with Lucy's
self…conscious calmness。 She burned。 She trembled。 She was in a rage with
herself。 She spurred Sarchedon into a run and tore through the sage； down into
the valley； running him harder than she should have run him。 Then she checked
him； and； penitent； petted him out of all proportion to her thoughtlessness。
The violent exercise only heated her blood and； if anything； increased this
sudden and new torment。 Why had she discarded her boy's rider outfit and chaps
for a riding…habit made by her aunt； and one she had scorned to wear？ Some
awful； accusing voice thundered in Lucy's burning ears that she had done this
because she was ashamed to face Lin Slone any more in that costumeshe wanted
to appear different in his eyes； to look like a girl。 If that shameful
suspicion was a fact why was it…what did it mean？ She could not tell； yet
she was afraid of the truth。
All of a sudden Lin Slone stood out clearer in her mental vision the finest
type of a rider she had ever knowna strong； lithe； magnificent horseman；
whose gentleness showed his love for horses； whose roughness showed his
powera strange； intense； lonely man in whom she had brought out pride；
gratitude； kindness； passion； and despair。 She felt her heart swell at the
realization that she had changed him； made him kinder； made him divide his
love as did her father； made him human； hopeful； longing for a future
unfettered by the toils of desert allurement。 She could not control her pride。
She must like him very much。 She confessed that； honestly； without a qualm。 It
was only bewildering moments of strange agitation and uncertainty that
bothered her。 She had refused to be concerned by them until they had finally
impinged upon her peace of mind。 Then they accused her； now she accused
herself。 She ought not go to meet Lin Slone any more。
〃But thenthe race！〃 she murmured。 〃I couldn't give that up。 。 。 。 And oh！
I'm afraid the harm is done！ What can I do？〃
After the racewhat then？ To be sure； all of Bostil's Ford would know she had
been meeting Slone out in the sage； training his horse。 What would people say？
〃Dad will simply be radiant； IF he can buy Wildfireand a fiend if he can't；〃
she muttered。
Lucy saw that her own impulsiveness had amounted to daring。 She had gone too
far。 She excused thatfor she had a rider's bloodshe was Bostil's girl。 But
she had； in her wildness and joy and spirit； spent many hours alone with a
rider； to his undoing。 She could not excuse that。 She was ashamed。 What would
he say when she told him she could see him no more？ The thought made her weak。
He would accept and go his wayback to that lonely desert； with only a horse。
〃Wildfire doesn't love him！〃 she said。
And the scarlet fired her neck and cheek and temple。 That leap of blood seemed
to release a riot of emotions。 What had been a torment became a torture。 She
turned Sarchedon homeward； but scarcely had faced that way when she wheeled
him again。 She rode slowly and she rode swiftly。 The former was hateful
because it held her backfrom what she no longer dared think； the latter was
fearful because it hurried her on swiftly； irresistibly to her fate。
Lin Slone had changed his camp and had chosen a pass high up where the great
walls had began to break into sections。 Here there was intimacy with the sheer
cliffs of red and yellow。 Wide avenues between the walls opened on all points
of the compass； and that one to the north appeared to be a gateway down into
the valley of monuments。 The monuments trooped down into the valley to spread
out and grow isolated in the distance。 Slone's camp was in a clump of cedars
surrounding a spring。 There was grass and white sage where rabbits darted in
and out。
Lucy did not approach this camp from that roundabout trail which she had made
upon the first occasion of her visiting Slone。 He had found an opening in the
wall； and by riding this way into the pass Lucy cut off miles。 In fact； the
camp was not over fifteen miles from Bostil's Ford。 It was so close that Lucy
was worried lest some horse…tracker should stumble on the trail and follow her
up into the pass。
This morning she espied Slone at his outlook on a high rock that had fallen
from the great walls。 She always looked to see if he was there； and she always
saw him。 The days she had not come； which were few； he had spent watching for
her there。 His tasks were not many； and he said he had nothing to do but wait
for her。 Lucy had a persistent and remorseful； yet sweet memory of Slone at
his lonely lookout。 Here was a fine； strong； splendid young man who had
nothing to do but watch for hera waste of precious hours！
She waved her hand from afar； and he waved in reply。 Then as she reached the
cedared part of the pass Slone was no longer visible。 She put Sarchedon to a
run up the hard； wind…swept sand； and reached the camp before Slone had
climbed down from his perch。
Lucy dismounted reluctantly。 What would he say about the riding…habit that she
wore？ She felt very curious to learn； and shyer than ever before； and
altogether different。 The skirt made her more of a girl； it seemed。
〃Hello； Lin！ 〃 she called。 There was nothing in her usual greeting to betray
the state of her mind。
〃Good mornin'Lucy；〃 he replied； very slowly。 He was looking at her； she
thought； with different eyes。 And he seemed changed； too； though he had long
been well； and his tall； lithe rider's form； his lean； strong face； and his
dark eyes were admirable in her sight。 Only this morning； all because she had
worn a girl's riding…skirt instead of boy's chaps； everything seemed
different。 Perhaps her aunt had been right； after all； and now things were
natural。
Slone gazed so long at her that Lucy could not keep silent。 She laughed。
〃How do you likemein this？〃
〃I like you much better；〃 Slone said； bluntly。
〃Auntie made thisand she's been trying to get me to ride in it。〃
〃It changes you； Lucy。 。 。 。 But can you ride as well？〃
〃I'm afraid not。 。 。 。 What's Wildfire going to think of me？〃
〃He'll like you better； too。 。 。 。 Lucy； how's the King comin' on？〃
〃Lin； I'll tell you； if I wasn't as crazy about Wildfire as you are； I'd say
he'll have to kill himself to beat the King；〃 replied Lucy； with gravity。
〃Sometimes I doubt； too；〃 said Slone。 〃But I only have to look at Wildfire to
get back my nerve。 。 。 。 Lucy； that will be the grandest race ever run！〃
〃Yes；〃 sighed Lucy。
〃What's wrong？ Don't you want Wildfire to win？〃
〃