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dreams。 How overstrained his perceptions！ He was not really sure of anything；
yet on the instant he was tense。
Straggling cedars on his left almost wholly obstructed Slone's view。
Wildfire's ears and nose were pointed that way。 Slone trotted him down toward
the edge of this cedar clump so that he could see beyond。 Before he reached
it； however； he saw something blue； moving； waving； lifting。
〃Smoke！〃 muttered Slone。 And he thought more of the danger of fire on that
windy height than he did of another peril to himself。
Wildfire was hard to hold as he rounded the edge of the cedars。
Slone saw a line of leaping flame； a line of sweeping smoke； the grass on fire
。 。 。 horses！a man！
Wildfire whistled his ringing blast of hate and menace； his desert challenge
to another stallion。
The man whirled to look。
Slone saw Joel Creechand Sage Kingand Lucy； half naked； bound on his back！
Joy； agony； terror in lightning…swift turns； paralyzed Slone。 But Wildfire
lunged out on the run。
Sage King reared in fright； came clown to plunge away。 and with a magnificent
leap cleared the line of fire。
Slone； more from habit than thought； sat close in the saddle。 A few of
Wildfire's lengthening strides； quickened Slone's blood。 Then Creech moved；
also awaking from a stupefying surprise； and he snatched up a gun and fired。
Slone saw the spurts of red； the puffs of white。 But he heard nothing。 The
torrent of his changed blood； burning and terrible； filled his ears with hate
and death。
He guided the running stallion。 In a few tremendous strides Wildfire struck
Creech； and Slone had one glimpse of all awful face。 The impact was terrific。
Creech went hurtling through the air； limp and broken； to go down upon a rock；
his skull cracking like a melon。
The horse leaped over the body and the stone； and beyond he leaped the line of
burning grass。
Slone saw the King running into the forest。 He saw poor Lucy's white body
swinging with the horse's motion。 One glance showed the great gray to be
running wild。 Then the hate and passion cleared away； leaving suspense and
terror。
Wildfire reached the pines。 There down the open aisles between the black trees
ran the fleet gray racer。 Wildfire saw him and snorted。 The King was a hundred
yards to the fore。
〃Wildfireit's comethe racethe race！〃 called Slone。 But he could not hear
his own call。 There was a roar overhead； heavy； almost deafening。 The wind！
the wind！ Yet that roar did not deaden a strange； shrieking crack somewhere
behind。 Wildfire leaped in fright。 Slone turned。 Fire had run up a pine…tree；
which exploded as if the trunk were powder！
〃MY GOD！ A RACE WITH FIRE！ 。 。 。 LUCY！ LUCY！〃
In that poignant cry Slone uttered his realization of the strange fate that
had waited for the inevitable race between Wildfire and the King； he uttered
his despairing love for Lucy； and his acceptance of death for her and himself。
No horse could outrun wind…driven fire in a dry pine forest。 Slone had no hope
of that。 How perfectly fate and time and place and horses； himself and his
sweetheart； had met！ Slone damned Joel Creech's insane soul to everlasting
torment。 To think to think his idiotic and wild threat had come trueand
come true with a gale in the pine…tops！ Slone grew old at the thought； and the
fact seemed to be a dream。 But the dry； pine…scented air made breathing hard；
the gray racer； carrying that slender； half…naked form； white in the forest
shade； lengthened into his fleet and beautiful stride； the motion of Wildfire；
so easy； so smooth； so swift； and the fierce reach of his head shooting
forwardall these proved that it was no dream。
Tense questions pierced the dark chaos of Slone's mindwhat could he do？ Run
the King down！ Make 'him kill Lucy！ Save her from horrible death by fire！
The red horse had not gained a yard on the gray。 Slone； keen to judge
distance； saw this； and for the first time he doubted Wildfire's power to ran
down the King。 Not with such a lead！ It was hopeless so hopeless
He turned to look back。 He saw no fire； no smokeonly the dark trunks； and
the massed green foliage in violent agitation against the blue sky。 That
revived a faint hope。 If he could get a few miles ahead； before the fire began
to leap across the pine…crests； then it might be possible to run out of the
forest if it were not wide。
Then a stronger hope grew。 It seemed that foot by foot Wildfire was gaining on
the King。 Slone studied the level forest floor sliding toward him。 He lost his
hopethen regained it again； and then he spurred the horse。 Wildfire hated
that as he hated Slone。 But apparently he did not quicken his strides。 And
Slone could not tell if he lengthened them。 He was not running near his limit
but； after the nature of such a horse； left to choose his gait； running
slowly； but rising toward his swiftest and fiercest。
Slone's rider's blood never thrilled to that race； for his blood had curdled。
The sickness within rose to his mind。 And that flashed up whenever he dared to
look forward at Lucy's white form。 Slone could not bear this sight； it almost
made him reel； yet he was driven to look。 He saw that the King carried no
saddle； so with Lucy on him he was light。 He ought to run all day with only
that weight。 Wildfire carried a heavy saddle； a pack； a water bag； and a
rifle。 Slone untied the pack and let it drop。 He almost threw aside the
water…bag； but something withheld his hand； and also he kept his rifle。 What
were a few more pounds to this desert stallion in his last run？ Slone knew it
was Wildfire's greatest and last race。
Suddenly Slone's ears rang with a terrible on…coming roar。 For an instant the
unknown sound stiffened him； robbed him of strength。 Only the horn of the
saddle； hooking into him； held him on。 Then the years of his desert life
answered to a call more than human。
He had to race against fire。 He must beat the flame to the girl he loved。
There were miles of dry forest； like powder。 Fire backed by a heavy gale could
rage through dry pine faster than any horse could run。 He might fail to save
Lucy。 Fate had given him a bitter ride。 But he swore a grim oath that he would
beat the flame。 The intense and abnormal rider's passion in him； like
Bostil's； dammed up； but never fully controlled； burst within him； and
suddenly he awoke to a wild and terrible violence of heart and soul。 He had
accepted death； he had no fear。 All that he wanted to do； the last thing he
wanted to do； was to ride down the King and kill Lucy mercifully。 How he would
have gloried to burn there in the forest； and for a million years in the dark
beyond； to save the girl！
He goaded the horse。 Then he looked back。
Through the aisles of the forest he saw a strange； streaky； murky something
moving； alive； shifting up and down； never an instant the same。 It must have
been the windthe heat before the fire。 He seemed to see through it； but
there was nothing beyond； only opaque； dim； mustering clouds。 Hot puffs shot
forward into his face。 His eyes smarted and stung。 His ears hurt and were
growing deaf。 The tumult was the rear of avalanches； of maelstroms； of rushing
seas； of the wreck of the uplands and the ruin of the earth。 It grew to be so
great a roar that he no longer heard。 There was only silence。
And he turned to face ahead。 The stallion stretched low on a dead run； the
tips of the pines were bending before the wind； and Wildfire； the terrible
thing for which his horse was named； was leaping through the forest。 But there
was no sound。
Ahead of Slone； down the aisles； low under the trees spreading over the
running King； floated swiftly some medium； like a transparent veil。 It was
neither smoke nor air。 It carried faint pin points of light； sparks； that
resembled atoms of dust floating in sunlight。 It was a wave of heat driven
before the storm of fire。 Slone did not feel pain； but he seemed to be drying
up。 parching。 And Lucy must be suffering now。 He goaded the stallion； raking
his flanks。 Wildfire answered with a scream and a greater speed。 All except
Lucy and Sage King and Wildfire seemed so strange and unrealthe swift rush
between the pines； now growing ghostly in the dimming light； the sense of a
pursuing； overpowering force； and yet absolute silence。
Slone fought the desire to look back。 But he could not resist it。 Some
horrible fascination compelled him。 All behind had changed。 A hot wind； like a
blast from a furnace； blew light； stinging particles into his face。 The fire
was racing in the tree…tops； while below all was yet clear。 A lashing； leaping
flame engulfed the canopy of pines。 It was white； seething； inconceivably
swift； with a thousand flashing tongues。 It traveled ahead of smoke。 It was so
thin he could see the branches through it； and the fiery clouds behind。 It
swept onward； a sublime and an appalling spectacle。 Slone could not think of
what it looked like。 It was fire； liberated； freed from the bowels of the
earth； tremendous； devouring。 This； then； was the meaning of fire。 This； then；
was the horrible fate to befall Lucy。
But no！ He thought he must be insane not to be overcome in spirit。 Yet he was
not。 He would beat the flame to Lucy。 He felt the lo