silence, which presently Bill opened his lips
to break.

"Lin, it makes me sick to quit. I ain't denyin' thet for a long time
I've had hopes of ketchin' Wildfire. He's the grandest hoss I ever laid
eyes on. I reckon no man, onless he was an Arab, ever seen as good a
one. But now, thet's neither here nor there.... We've got to hit the
back trail."

"Boys, I reckon I'll stick to Wildfire's tracks," said Lin, in the same
quiet tone.

Bill swore at him, and the other hunter grew excited and concerned.

"Lin Slone, are you gone plumb crazy over thet red hoss?"

"I--reckon," replied Slone. The working of his throat as he swallowed
could be plainly seen by his companions.

Bill looked at his ally as if to confirm some sudden understanding
between them. They took Slone's attitude gravely and they wagged their
heads doubtfully, as they might have done had Slone just acquainted
them with a hopeless and deathless passion for a woman. It was
significant of the nature of riders that they accepted his attitude and
had consideration for his feelings. For them the situation subtly
changed. For weeks they had been three wild-horse wranglers on a hard
chase after a valuable stallion. They had failed to get even close to
him. They had gone to the limit of their endurance and of the outfit,
and it was time to turn back. But Slone had conceived that strange and
rare longing for a horse--a passion understood, if not shared, by all
riders. And they knew that he would catch Wildfire or die in the
attempt. From that moment their attitude toward Slone changed as subtly
as had come the knowledge of his feeling. The gravity and gloom left
their faces. It seemed they might have regretted what they had said
about the futility of catching Wildfire. They did not want Slone to see
or feel the hopelessness of his task.

"I tell you, Lin," said Bill, "your hoss Nagger's as good as when we
started."

"Aw, he's better," vouchsafed the other rider. "Nagger needed to lose
some weight. Lin, have you got an extra set of shoes for him?"

"No full set. Only three left," replied Lin, soberly.

"Wal, thet's enough. You can keep Nagger shod. An' MEBBE thet red
stallion will get sore feet an' go lame. Then you'd stand a chance."

"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, ca