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can't tell now。 。 。 。 But we hadhell！ An' Cordts is deadso's Hutchan'
that other pard of his。 。 。 。 Bostil； they'll never haunt your sleep again！〃
Slone finished with a strange sternness that seemed almost bitter。
Bostil raised both his huge fists。 The blood was bulging his thick neck。 It
was another kind of passion that obsessed him。 Only some violent check to his
emotion prevented him from embracing Slone。 The huge fists unclenched and the
big fingers worked。
〃You mean to tell me you did fer Cordts an' Hutch what you did fer Sears？〃 he
boomed out。
〃They're deadgone； Bostilhonest to God！〃 replied。 Slone。
Holley thrust a quivering； brown hand into Bostil's face。 〃What did I tell
you？〃 he shouted。 〃Didn't I say wait？〃
Bostil threw away all that deep fury of passion； and there seemed only a
resistless and speechless admiration left。 Then ensued a moment of silence。
The riders watched Slone's weary face as it drooped； and Bostil； as he loomed
over him。
〃Where's the red stallion？〃 queried Bostil。 That was the question hard to get
out。
Slone raised eyes dark with pain； yet they flashed as he looked straight up
into Bostil's face。 〃Wildfire's dead！〃
〃DEAD！〃 ejaculated Bostil。
Another moment of strained exciting suspense。
〃Shot？〃 he went on。
〃No。〃
〃What killed him？〃
〃The King； sir！ 。 。 。 Killed him on his feet！〃
Bostil's heavy jaw bulged and quivered。 His hand shook as he laid it on Sage
King's manethe first touch since the return of his favorite。
〃Slonewhatis it？〃 he said； brokenly； with voice strangely softened。 His
face became transfigured。
〃Sage King killed Wildfire on his feet。 。 。 。 A grand race； Bostil！ 。 。 。 But
Wildfire's deadan' here's the King！ Ask me no more。 I want to forget。〃
Bostil put his arm around the young man's shoulder。 〃Slone； if I don't know
what you feel fer the loss of thet grand hoss； no rider on earth knows！ 。 。 。
Go in the house。 Boys； take him inall of youan' look after him。〃
Bostil wanted to be alone； to welcome the King； to lead him back to the home
corral； perhaps to hide from all eyes the change and the uplift that would
forever keep him from wronging another man。
The late rains came and like magic； in a few days； the sage grew green and
lustrous and fresh； the gray turning to purple。
Every morning the sun rose white and hot in a blue and cloudless sky。 And then
soon the horizon line showed creamy clouds that rose and spread and darkened。
Every afternoon storms hung along the ramparts and rainbows curved down
beautiful and ethereal。 The dim blackness of the storm…clouds was split to the
blinding zigzag of lightning； and the thunder rolled and boomed； like the
Colorado in flood。
The wind was fragrant； sage…laden； no longer dry and hot； but cool in the
shade。
Slone and Lucy never rode down so far as the stately monuments； though these
held memories as hauntingly sweet as others were poignantly bitter。 Lucy never
rode the King again。 But Slone rode him； learned to love him。 And Lucy did not
race any more。 When Slone tried to stir in her the old spirit all the response
he got was a wistful shake of head or a laugh that hid the truth or an excuse
that the strain on her ankles from Joel Creech's lasso had never mended。 The
girl was unutterably happy； but it was possible that she would never race a
horse again。
She rode Sarchedon； and she liked to trot or lope along beside Slone while
they linked hands and watched the distance。 But her glance shunned the north；
that distance which held the wild canyons and the broken battlements and the
long； black； pine…fringed plateau。
〃Won't you ever ride with me； out to the old camp； where I used to wait for
you？〃 asked Slone。
〃Some day；〃 she said； softly。
〃When？〃
〃Whenwhen we come back from Durango；〃 she replied； with averted eyes and
scarlet cheek。 And Slone was silent； for that planned trip to Durango； with
its wonderful gift to be； made his heart swell。
And so on this rainbow day； with storms all around them； and blue sky above；
they rode only as far as the valley。 But from there； before they turned to go
back； the monuments appeared close； and they loomed grandly with the
background of purple bank and creamy cloud and shafts of golden lightning。
They seemed like sentinels guardians of a great and beautiful love born
under their lofty heights； in the lonely silence of day； in the star…thrown
shadow of night。 They were like that love。 And they held Lucy and Slone；
calling every day； giving a nameless and tranquil content； binding them true
to love； true to the sage and the open； true to that wild upland home。
End