e and climbed and descended,
spurred by one purpose, pursued by suspense and dread. That night he
tied Wildfire near water and grass and fell into the sleep of
exhaustion.

Morning came. But with it no hope. He had been desperate. And now he
was in a frightful state. It seemed that days and days had passed, and
nights that were hideous with futile nightmares.

He rode down into a canyon with sloping walls, and broken, like all of
these canyons under the great plateau. Every canyon resembled another.
The upland was one vast network. The world seemed a labyrinth of
canyons among which he was hopelessly lost. What would--what had become
of Lucy? Every thought in his whirling brain led back to that--and it
was terrible.

Then--he was gazing transfixed down upon the familiar tracks left by
Creech's mustangs. Days old, but still unfollowed!

CHAPTER XIX

That track led up the narrowing canyon to its head at the base of the
plateau.

Slone, mindful of his horse, climbed on foot, halting at the zigzag
turns to rest. A long, gradually ascending trail mounted the last
slope, which when close at hand was not so precipitous as it appeared
from below. Up there the wind, sucked out of the canyons, swooped and
twisted hard.

At last Slone led Wildfire over the rim and halted for another
breathing-spell. Before him was a beautiful, gently sloping stretch of
waving grass leading up to the dark pine forest from which came a roar
of wind. Beneath Slone the wild and whorled canyon breaks extended,
wonderful in thousands of denuded surfaces, gold and red and yellow,
with the smoky depths between.

Wildfire sniffed the wind and snorted. Slone turned, instantly alert.
The wild horse had given an alarm. Like a flash Slone leaped into the
saddle. A faint cry, away from the wind, startled Slone. It was like a
cry he had heard in dreams. How overstrained his perceptions! He was
not really sure of anything, yet on the instant he was tense.

Straggling cedars on his left almost wholly obstructed Slone's view.
Wildfire's ears and nose were pointed that way. Slone trotted him down
toward the edge of this cedar clump so that he could see beyond. Before
he reached it, however, he saw something blue, moving, waving, lifting.

"Smoke!" muttered Slone. And he thought more of the danger of fire on
that windy height than he did of another peril to himself.

Wildfire was hard to hold as he rounded the edge of the cedars.

Slone saw a line