Perhaps he had misjudged distance and place in the
gloom. Still, he never made mistakes of that nature. He searched around
till he found the cedar stump to which he had tied the lasso. In the
gloom he could not see it, and when he reached out he did not feel it.
Wildfire was gone! Slone sank down, overcome. He cursed what must have
been carelessness, though he knew he never was careless with a horse.
What had happened? He did not know. But Wildfire was gone--and that
meant Lucy's doom and his! Slone shook with cold.

Then, as he leaned against the stump, wet and shaking, familiar sound
met his ears. It was made by the teeth of a grazing horse--a slight,
keen, tearing cut. Wildfire was close at hand! With a sweep Slone
circled the stump and he found the knot of the lasso. He had missed it.
He began to gather in the long rope, and soon felt the horse. In the
black gloom against the wall Slone could not distinguish Wildfire.

"Whew!" he muttered, wiping the sweat off his face. "Good Lord! ... All
for nothin'."

It did not take Slone long to decide to lead the horse and work up the
canyon past the campers. He must get ahead of them, and once there he
had no fear of them, either by night or day. He really had no hopes of
getting by undiscovered, and all he wished for was to get far enough so
that he could not be intercepted. The grazing horses would scent
Wildfire or he would scent them.

For a wonder Wildfire allowed himself to be led as well as if he had
been old, faithful Nagger. Slone could not keep close in to the wall
for very long, on account of the cedars, but he managed to stay in the
outer edge of shadow cast by the wall. Wildfire winded the horses,
halted, threw up his head. But for some reason beyond Slone the horse
did not snort or whistle. As he knew Wildfire he could have believed
him intelligent enough and hateful enough to betray his master.

It was one of the other horses that whistled an alarm. This came at a
point almost even with the camp-fire. Slone, holding Wildfire down, had
no time to get into a stirrup, but leaped to the saddle and let the
horse go. There were hoarse yells and then streaks of fire and shots.
Slone heard the whizz of heavy bullets, and he feared for Wildfire. But
the horse drew swiftly away into the darkness. Slone could not see
whether the ground was smooth or broken, and he left that to Wildfire.
Luck favored them, and presently Slone pulled him in to a safe gait,
and regrette