her wrists
at which Creech was clawing. When he broke her hold there were handfuls
of hair in Lucy's fists.

She fell again and had not the strength to rise. But Creech was raging,
and little of his broken speech was intelligible. He knelt with a sharp
knee pressing her down. He cut the rope. Nimbly, like a rider in
moments of needful swiftness, he noosed one end of the rope round her
ankle, then the end of the other piece round her wrist. He might have
been tying up an unbroken mustang. Rising, he retained hold on both
ropes. He moved back, sliding them through his hands. Then with a quick
move he caught up Sage King's bridle.

Creech paused a moment, darkly triumphant. A hideous success showed in
his strange eyes. A long-cherished mad vengeance had reached its
fruition. Then he led the horse near to Lucy.

Warily he reached down. He did not know Lucy's strength was spent. He
feared she might yet escape. With hard, quick grasp he caught her,
lifted her, threw her over the King's back. He forced her down.

Lucy's resistance was her only salvation, because it kept him on the
track of his old threat. She resisted all she could. He pulled her arms
down round the King's neck and tied them close. Then he pulled hard on
the rope on her ankle and tied that to her other ankle.

Lucy realized that she was bound fast. Creech had made good most of his
threat. And now in her mind the hope of the death she had sought
changed to the hope of life that was possible. Whatever power she had
ever had over the King was in her voice. If only Creech would slip the
bridle or cut the reins--if only Sage King could be free to run!

Lucy could turn her face far enough to see Creech. Like a fiend he was
reveling in his work. Suddenly he picked up the gun.

"Look a-hyar!" he called, hoarsely.

With eyes on her, grinning horribly, he walked a few paces to where the
long grass had not been trampled or pressed down. The wind, whipping up
out of the canyon, was still blowing hard. Creech put the gun down in
the grass and fired.

Sage King plunged. But he was not gun-shy. He steadied down with a
pounding of heavy hoofs. Then Lucy could see again. A thin streak of
yellow smoke rose--a little snaky flame--a slight crackling hiss! Then
as the wind caught the blaze there came a rushing, low roar. Fire, like
magic, raced and spread before the wind toward the forest.

Lucy had forgotten that Creech had meant to drive her into fire. The
sudden hor