United States or Canada ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
But as Nagger stamped and snorted defiance Slone looked with fixed and keen gaze, and knew that beautiful picture was no lie. Wildfire was as red as fire. His long mane, wild in the wind, was like a whipping, black-streaked flame. Silhouetted there against that cañon background he seemed gigantic, a demon horse, ready to plunge into fiery depths.
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.
Still another method, discovered by accident, was to shoot a horse lightly in the neck and sting him. This last, called creasing, was seldom successful, and for that matter in any method ten times as many horses were killed as captured. Lin Slone helped the Stewarts in their own way, but he had no especial liking for their tricks.
Wildfire had grazed along no more than a mile in the lead. Slone looked eagerly up the narrowing canyon, but he was not rewarded by a sight of the stallion. As he progressed up a gradually ascending trail he became aware of the fact that the notch he had long looked up to was where the great red walls closed in and almost met.
Wildfire's tracks led down into this basin, and presently Slone, by straining his eyes, made out the red spot that was the stallion. "He's lookin' to quit the country," soliloquized Slone, as he surveyed the scene.
Slone realized that in one way or another the pursuit was narrowing down to the end. He found a water-hole at the head of a wash in a split in the walls, and here he let Nagger rest and graze one whole day the first day for a long time that he had not kept the red stallion in sight.
"I won't ride your horse." "MY horse. Oh, I see.... But you'll ride Wildfire." "I won't." Slone suddenly turned white, and his eyes flashed dark fire. "You won't be able to help ridin' him any more than I could help it." "A lot you know about me, Lin Slone!" returned Lucy, with scorn. "I can be as as bull-headed as you, any day."
And the looming monuments looked down upon her, paternal, old, and wise, bright with the color of happiness. "Wildfire ought to have several more days' training then a day of rest and then the race," said Lucy, turning again to look at Slone. A smile was beginning to change the hardness of his face. "Yes, Lucy," he said. "And I'll HAVE to ride him?" "You sure will if he's ever to beat the King."
"But Wildfire keeps travelin' the valleys the soft ground," said Slone. "No matter. He's leavin' the country, an' he's bound to strike sandstone sooner or later. Then, by gosh! mebbe he'll wear off them hoofs." "Say, can't he ring bells offen the rocks?" exclaimed Bill. "Oh, Lordy! what a hoss!" "Boys, do you think he's leavin' the country?" inquired Slone, anxiously. "Sure he is," replied Bill.
"Mebbe Slone got out because of somethin' thet come off last night.... Now, Joel Creech an' an' " Bostil waited to hear no more. What did he care about the idiot Creech? He strode down the lane to the corrals. Farlane, Van, and other riders were there, leisurely as usual. Then Holley appeared, coming out of the barn. He, too, was easy, cool, natural, lazy. None of these riders knew what was amiss.
Word Of The Day