ror of it almost caused collapse. Commotion within--cold and
quake and nausea and agony--deadened her hearing and darkened her
sight. But Creech's hard hands quickened her. She could see him then,
though not clearly. His face seemed inhuman, misshapen, gray. His hands
pulled at her arms--a last precaution to see that she was tightly
bound. Then with the deft fingers of a rider he slipped Sage King's
bridle.

Lucy could not trust her sight. What made the King stand so still? His
ears went up--stiff--pointed!

Creech stepped back and laid a violent hand on Lucy's garments. She
bent--twisted her neck to watch him. But her sight grew no clearer.
Still she saw he meant to strip her naked. He braced himself for a
strong, ripping pull. His yellow teeth showed deep in his lip. His
contrasting eyes were alight with insane joy.

But he never pulled. Something attracted his attention. He looked. He
saw something. The beast in him became human--the madness changed to
rationality--the devil to a craven! His ashen lips uttered a low,
terrible cry.

Lucy felt the King trembling in every muscle. She knew that was flight.
She expected his loud snort, and was prepared for it when it rang out.
In a second he would bolt. She knew that. She thrilled. She tried to
call to him, but her lips were weak. Creech seemed paralyzed. The King
shifted his position, and Lucy's last glimpse of Creech was one she
would never forget. It was as if Creech faced burning hell!

Then the King whistled and reared. Lucy heard swift, dull, throbbing
beats. Beats of a fast horse's hoofs on the run! She felt a surging
thrill of joy. She could not think. All of her blood and bone and
muscle seemed to throb. Suddenly the air split to a high-pitched, wild,
whistling blast. It pierced to Lucy's mind. She knew that whistle.

"Wildfire!" she screamed, with bursting heart.

The King gave a mighty convulsive bound of terror. He, too, knew that
whistle. And in that one great bound he launched out into a run.
Straight across the line of burning grass! Lucy felt the sting of
flame. Smoke blinded and choked her. Then clear, dry, keen wind sung in
her ears and whipped her hair. The light about her darkened. The King
had headed into the pines. The heavy roar of the gale overhead struck
Lucy with new and torturing dread. Sage King once in his life was
running away, bridleless, and behind him there was fire on the wings of
the wind.

CHAPTER XVII

For the first tim