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King and four others to choose from。 Bostil held out stubbornly for a long
race。 It was well known that Sage King was unbeatable in a long race。 If there
were any chance to beat him it must be at short distance。 The vote went
against Bostil； much to his chagrin； and the great race was set down for two
miles。
〃But two miles！ 。 。 。 Two miles！〃 he kept repeating。 〃Thet's Blue Roan's
distance。 Thet's his distance。 An' it ain't fair to the King！〃
His guests； excepting Creech； argued with him； explained； reasoned； showed him
that it was fair to all concerned。 Bostil finally acquiesced； but he was not
happy。 The plain fact was that he was frightened。
When the men were departing Bostil called Creech back into the sitting…room。
Creech appeared surprised； yet it was evident that he would have been glad to
make friends with Bostil。
〃What'll you take for the roan？〃 Bostil asked； tersely；' as if he had never
asked that before。
〃Bostil； didn't we thresh thet out beforean' FELL out over it？〃 queried
Creech； with a deprecating spread of his hands。
〃Wal； we can fall in again； if you'll sell or trade the hoss。〃
〃I'm sorry； but I can't。〃
〃You need money an' hosses； don't you？〃 demanded Bostil； brutally。 He had no
conscience in a matter of horse…dealing。
〃Lord knows； I do；〃 replied Creech。
〃Wal； then； here's your chance。 I'll give you five hundred in gold an'
Sarchedon to boot。〃
Creech looked as if he had not heard aright。 Bostil repeated the offer。
〃No；〃 replied Creech。
〃I'll make it a thousand an' throw Plume in with Sarch；〃 flashed Bostil。
〃No！〃 Creech turned pale and swallowed hard。
〃Two thousand an' Dusty Ben along with the others？〃 This was an unheard…of
price to pay for any horse。 Creech saw that Bostil was desperate。 It was an
almost overpowering temptation。 Evidently Creech resisted it only by applying
all his mind to the thought of his clean…limbed； soft…eyed； noble horse。
Bostil did not give Creech time to speak。 〃Twenty…five hundred an' Two Face
along with the rest！〃
〃My God； Bostilstop it！ I can't PART with Blue Roan。 You're rich an' you've
no heart。 Thet I always knew。 At least to me you never had； since I owned them
two racers。 Didn't I beg you； a little time back； to lend me a few hundred？ To
meet thet debt？ An' you wouldn't； unless I'd sell the hosses。 An' I had to
lose my sheep。 Now I'm a poor mangettin' poorer all the time。 But I won't
sell or trade Blue Roan； not for all you've got！〃
Creech seemed to gain strength with his speech and passion with the strength。
His eyes glinted at the hard； paling face of his rival。 He raised a clenching
fist。
〃An' by Gd； I'm goin' to win thet race！〃
During that week Lucy had heard many things about Joel Creech； and some of
them were disquieting。
Some rider had not only found Joel's clothes on the trail； but he had
recognized the track of the horse Lucy rode； and at once connected her with
the singular discovery。 Coupling that with Joel's appearance in the village
incased in a heaving armor of adobe； the riders guessed pretty close to the
truth。 For them the joke was tremendous。 And Joel Creech was exceedingly
sensitive to ridicule。 The riders made life unbearable for him。 They had fun
out of it as long as Joel showed signs of taking the joke manfully； which was
not long； and then his resentment won their contempt。 That led to sarcasm on
their part and bitter anger on his。 It came to Lucy's ears that Joel began to
act and talk strangely。 She found out that the rider Van had knocked Joel down
in Brackton's store and had kicked a gun out of his hand。 Van laughed off the
rumor and Brackton gave her no satisfaction。 Moreover； she heard no other
rumors。 The channels of gossip had suddenly closed to her。 Bostil； when
questioned by Lucy； swore in a way that amazed her； and all he told her was to
leave Creech alone。 Finally； when Muncie discharged Joel； who worked now and
then； Lucy realized that something was wrong with Joel and that she was to
blame for it。
She grew worried and anxious and sorry； but she held her peace； and determined
to find out for herself what was wrong。 Every day when she rode out into the
sage she expected to meet him； or at least see him somewhere； nevertheless
days went by and there was no sign of him。
One afternoon she saw some Indians driving sheep down the river road toward
the ford； and； acting upon impulse； she turned her horse after them。
Lucy seldom went down the river road。 Riding down and up was merely work； and
a horse has as little liking for it as she had。 Usually it was a hot； dusty
trip； and the great； dark； overhanging walls had a depressing effect； upon
her。 She always felt awe at the gloomy canyon and fear at the strange；
murmuring red river。 But she started down this afternoon in the hope of
meeting Joel。 She had a hazy idea of telling him she was sorry for what she
had done； and of asking him to forget it and pay no more heed to the riders。
The sheep raised a dust…cloud in the sandy wash where the road wound down； and
Lucy hung back to let them get farther ahead。 Gradually the tiny roar of
pattering hoofs and the blended bleating and baaing died away。 The dust…cloud；
however； hung over the head of the ravine； and Lucy had to force Sarchedon
through it。 Sarchedon did not mind sand and dust； but he surely hated the
smell of sheep。 Lucy seldom put a spur to Sarchedon； still； she gave him a
lash with her quirt； and then he went on obediently； if disgustedly。 He
carried his head like a horse that wondered why his mistress preferred to
drive him down into an unpleasant hole when she might have been cutting the
sweet； cool sage wind up on the slope。
The wash； with its sand and clay walls； dropped into a gulch； and there was an
end of green growths。 The road led down over solid rock。 Gradually the rims of
the gorge rose； shutting out the light and the cliffs。 It was a winding road
and one not safe to tarry on in a stormy season。 Lucy had seen boulders
weighing a ton go booming down that gorge during one of the sudden fierce
desert storms； when a torrent of water and mud and stone went plunging on to
the river。 The ride through here was short； though slow。 Lucy always had time
to adjust her faculties for the overpowering contrast these lower regions
presented。 Long before she reached the end of the gorge she heard the sullen
thunder of the river。 The river was low； too； for otherwise there would have
been a deafening roar。
Presently she came out upon a lower branch of the canyon； into a great
red…walled space； with the river still a thousand feet below； and the cliffs
towering as high above her。 The road led down along this rim where to the left
all was open； across to the split and peaked wall opposite。 The river appeared
to sweep round a bold； bulging comer a mile above。 It was a wide； swift；
muddy； turbulent stream。 A great bar of sand stretched out from the shore。
Beyond it； through the mouth of an intersecting canyon； could be seen a clump
of cottonwoods and willows that marked the home of the Creeches。 Lucy could
not see the shore nearest her； as it was almost directly under her。 Besides；
in this narrow road； on a spirited horse； she was not inclined to watch the
scenery。 She hurried Sarchedon down and down； under the overhanging brows of
rock； to where the rim sloped out and failed。 Here was a half…acre of sand；
with a few scant willows； set down seemingly in a dent at the base of the
giant； beetling cliffs。 The place was light； though the light seemed a kind of
veiled red； and to Lucy always ghastly。 She could not have been joyous with
that river moaning before her； even if it had been up on a level； in the clear
and open day。 As a little girl eight years old she had conceived a terror and
hatred of this huge； jagged rent so full of red haze and purple smoke and the
thunder of rushing waters。 And she had never wholly outgrown it。 The joy of
the sun and wind； the rapture in the boundless open； the sweetness in the
sagethese were not possible here。 Something mighty and ponderous； heavy as
those colossal cliffs； weighted down her spirit。 The voice of the river drove
out any dream。 Here was the incessant frowning presence of destructive forces
of nature。 And the ford was associated with catastropheto sheep； to horses
and to men。
Lucy rode across the bar to the shore where the Indians were loading the sheep
into an immense rude flatboat。 As the sheep were frightened； the loading was
no easy task。 Their bleating could be heard above the roar of the river。
Bostil's boatmen； Shugrue and Somers； stood knee…deep in the quicksand of the
bar； and their efforts to keep free…footed were as strenuous as their handling
of the sheep。 Presently the flock was all crowded on board； the Indians
followed； and then the boatmen slid the unwieldy craft off the sand…bar。 Then；
each manning a clumsy oar； they pulled up…stream。 Along shore were whirling；
slow eddies； and there rowing was possible。 Out in that swift current it would
have been folly to try to contend with it； let alone make progress。 The method
of crossing was to row up along the shore as far as a great cape of rock
jutting out； and there make into