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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 loss of something； some kind
of a sensation which he ought to have had。 Still he rode that race to kill his
sweetheart better than any race he had ever before ridden。 He kept his seat；
he dodged the snags； he pulled the maddened horse the shortest way； he kept
the King running straight。
No horse had ever run so magnificent a race！ Wildfire was outracing wind and
fire； and he was overhauling the most noted racer of the uplands against a
tremendous handicap。 But now he was no longer racing to kill the King； he was
running in terror。 For miles he held that long； swift； wonderful stride
without a break。 He was running to his death； whether or not he distanced the
fire。 Nothing could stop him now but a bursting heart。
Slone untied his lasso and coiled the noose。 Almost within reach of the King！
One throwone sudden swerveand the King would go down。 Lucy would know only
a stunning shock。 Slone's heart broke。 Could he kill hercrush that dear
golden head？ He could not； yet he must！ He saw a long； curved； red welt on
Lucy's white shoulders。 What was that？ Had a branch lashed her？ Slone could
not see her face。 She could not have been dead or in a faint； for she was
riding the King； bound as she was！
Closer and closer drew Wildfire。 He seemed to go faster and faster as that
wind of flame gained upon them。 The air was too thick to breathe。 It had an
irresistible weight。 It pushed horses and riders onward in their
flightstraws on the crest of a cyclone。
Again Slone looked back and again the spectacle was different。 There was a
white and golden fury of flame above； beautiful and blinding； and below；
farther back； an inferno of glowing fire； black…streaked； with trembling；
exploding puffs and streams of yellow smoke。 The aisles between the burning
pines were smoky； murky caverns； moving and weird。 Slone saw fire shoot from
the tree…tops down the trunks； and he saw fire shoot up the trunks； like
trains of powder。 They exploded like huge rockets。 And along the forest floor
leaped the little flames。 His eyes burned and blurred till all merged into a
wide； pursuing storm too awful for the gaze of man。
Wildfire was running down the King。 The great gray had not lessened his speed；
but he was breaking。 Slone felt a ghastly triumph when he began to whirl the
noose of the lasso round his head。 Already he was within range。 But he held
back his throw which meant the end of all。 And as he hesitated Wildfire
suddenly whistled one shrieking blast。
Slone looked。 Ahead there was light through the forest！ Slone saw a white；
open space of grass。 A park？ Nothe end of the forest！ Wildfire； like a
demon； hurtled onward； with his smoothness of action gone； beginning to break；
within a length of the King。
A cry escaped Slonea cry as silent as if there had been no deafening
roaras wild as the race； and as terrible as the ruthless fire。 It was the
cry of lifeinstead of death。 Both Sage King and Wildfire would beat the
flame。
Then； with the open just ahead； Slone felt a wave of hot wind rolling over
him。 He saw the lashing tongues of flame above him in the pines。 The storm had
caught him。 It forged ahead。 He was riding under a canopy of fire。 Burning
pine cones； like torches； dropped all around him。 He had a terrible blank
sense of weight； of suffocation； of the air turning to fire。
Then Wildfire； with his nose at Sage King's flank； flashed out of the pines
into the open。 Slone saw a grassy wide reach inclining gently toward a dark
break in the ground with crags rising sheer above it； and to the right a great
open space。
Slone felt that clear air as the breath of deliverance。 His reeling sense
righted。 Therethe King ran； blindly going to his death。 Wildfire was
breaking fast。 His momentum carried him。 He was almost done。
Slone roped the King； and holding hard； waited for the end。 They ran on；
breaking； breaking。 Slone thought he would have to throw the King； for they
were perilously near the deep cleft in the rim。 But Sage King went to his
knees。
Slone leaped off just as Wildfire fell。 How the blade flashed that released
Lucy！ She was wet from the horse's sweat and foam。 She slid off into Slone's
arms； and he called her name。 Could she hear above that roar back there in the
forest？ The pieces of rope hung to her wrists and Slone saw dark bruises； raw
and bloody。 She fell against him。 Was she dead？ His heart contracted。 How
white the face！ No； he saw her breast heave against his！ And he cried aloud；
incoherently in his joy。 She was alive。 She was not badly hurt。 She stirred。
She plucked at him with nerveless hands。 She pressed close to him。 He heard a
smothered voice； yet so full； so wonderful！
〃Putyourcoaton me！〃 came somehow to his ears。
Slone started violently。 Abashed； shamed to realize he had forgotten she was
half nude； he blindly tore off his coat； blindly folded it around her。
〃Lin！ Lin！〃 she cried。
〃LucyOh！ are y…you〃 he replied； huskily。
〃I'm not hurt。 I'm all right。〃
〃But that wretch； Joel。 He〃
〃He'd killed his fatherjust aminutebefore you came。 I fought him！ Oh！ 。
。 。 But I'm all right。 。 。 。 Did you〃
〃Wildfire ran him downsmashed him。 。 。 。 Lucy！ this can't be true。 。 。 。 Yet
I feel you！ Thank God！〃
With her free hand Lucy returned his clasp。 She seemed to be strong。 It was a
precious moment for Slone； in which he was uplifted beyond all dreams。
〃Let me loosea second；〃 she said。 〃I want toget in your coat。〃
She laughed as he released her。 She laughed！ And Slone thrilled with
unutterable sweetness at that laugh。
As he turned away he felt a swift wind； then a strange impact from an
invisible force that staggered him； then the rend of flesh。 After that came
the heavy report of a gun。
Slone fell。 He knew he had been shot。 Following the rending of his flesh came
a hot agony。 It was in his shoulder； high up； and the dark； swift fear for his
life was checked。
Lucy stood staring down at him； unable to comprehend； slowly paling。 Her hands
clasped the coat round her。 Slone saw her； saw the edge of streaming clouds of
smoke above her； saw on the cliff beyond the gorge two men； one with a smoking
gun half leveled。
If Slone had been inattentive to his surroundings before； the sight of Cordts
electrified him。
〃Lucy！ drop down！ quick！〃
〃Oh； what's happened？ Youyou〃
〃I've been shot。 Drop down； I tell you。 Get behind the horse an' pull my
rifle。〃
〃Shot！〃 exclaimed Lucy； blankly。
〃YesYes。 。 。 。 My God！ Lucy； he's goin' to shoot again！〃
It was then Lucy Bostil saw Cordts across the gulch。 He was not fifty yards
distant； plainly recognizable； tall； gaunt； sardonic。 He held the half…leveled
gun ready as if waiting。 He had waited there in ambush。 The clouds of smoke
rolled up above him； hiding the crags。
〃CORDTS！〃 Bostil's blood spoke in the girl's thrilling cry。
〃Hunch down； Lucy！〃 cried Slone。 〃Pull my rifle。 。 。 。 I'm only wingednot
hurt。 Hurry！ He's goin'〃
Another heavy report interrupted Slone。 The bullet missed； but Slone made a
pretense； a convulsive flop； as if struck。
〃Get the rifle！ Quick！〃 he called。
But Lucy misunderstood his ruse to deceive Cordts。 She thought he had been hit
again。 She ran to the fallen Wildfire and jerked the rifle from its sheath。
Cordts had begun to climb round a ledge； evidently a short cut to get down and
across。 Hutchinson saw the rifle and yelled to Cordts。 The horse…thief halted；
his dark face gleaming toward Lucy。
When Lucy rose the coat fell from her nude shoulders。 And Slone； watching；
suddenly lost his agony of terror for her and uttered a pealing cry of
defiance and of rapture。
She swept up the rifle。 It wavered。 Hutchinson was above； and Cordts； reaching
up； yelled for help。 Hutchinson was reluctant。 But the stronger force
dominated。 He leaned downclasped Cordts's outstretched hands； and pulled。
Hutchinson bawled out hoarsely。 Cordts turned what seemed a paler face。 He had
difficulty on the slight footing。 He was slow。
Slone tried to call to Lucy to shoot low； but his lips had drawn tight after
his one yell。 Slone saw her white； rounded shoulders bent； with cold； white
face pressed against the rifle； with slim arms quivering and growing tense；
with the tangled golden hair blowing out。
Then she shot。
Slone's glance shifted。 He did not see the bullet strike up dust。 The figures
of the men remained the sameHutchinson straining； Cordts。 。 。 。 No； Cordts
was not the same！ A strange change seemed manifest in his long form。 It did
not seem instinct with effort。 Yet it moved。
Hutchinson also was acting strangely； yelling； heaving； wrestling。 But he
could not help Cordts。 He lifted violently； raised Cordts a little； and then
appeared to be in peril of losing his balance。
Cordts leaned against the cliff。 Then it dawned upon Slone that Lucy had hit
the horse…thief。 Hard hit！ He would nothe could not let go of Hutchinson。
His was a death clutch。 The burly Hutchinson slipped from his knee…hold； and
as he moved Cordts swayed； his feet left the ledge； he hung； upheld only by
the tottering comrade。
W