han pleasant to Slone. The
wind rose, however, and blew dust and sand in the faces of horse and
rider. Except lizards, Slone did not see any living things.

Miles of low greasewood and sparse yellow sage led to the first almost
imperceptible rise of the valley floor on that side. The distant cedars
beckoned to Slone. He was not patient, because he was on the trail of
Wildfire; but, nevertheless, the hours seemed short.

Slone had no past to think about, and the future held nothing except a
horse, and so his thoughts revolved the possibilities connected with
this chase of Wildfire. The chase was hopeless in such country as he
was traversing, and if Wildfire chose to roam around valleys like this
one Slone would fail utterly. But the stallion had long ago left his
band of horses, and then, one by one his favorite consorts, and now he
was alone, headed with unerring instinct for wild, untrammeled ranges.
He had been used to the pure, cold water and the succulent grass of the
cold desert uplands. Assuredly he would not tarry in such barren lands
as these.

For Slone an ever-present and growing fascination lay in Wildfire's
clear, sharply defined tracks. It was as if every hoof-mark told him
something. Once, far up the interminable ascent, he found on a
ridge-top tracks showing where Wildfire had halted and turned.

"Ha, Nagger!" cried Slone, exultingly. "Look there! He's begun facin'
about. He's wonderin' if we're still after him. He's worried.... But
we'll keep out of sight--a day behind."

When Slone reached the cedars the sun was low down in the west. He
looked back across the fifty miles of valley to the colored cliffs and
walls. He seemed to be above them now, and the cool air, with tang of
cedar and juniper, strengthened the impression that he had climbed high.

A mile or more ahead of him rose a gray cliff with breaks in it and a
line of dark cedars or pinyons on the level rims. He believed these
breaks to be the mouths of canyons, and so it turned out. Wildfire's
trail led into the mouth of a narrow canyon with very steep and high
walls. Nagger snorted his perception of water, and the mustang
whistled. Wildfire's tracks led to a point under the wall where a
spring gushed forth. There were mountain-lion and deer tracks also, as
well as those of smaller game.

Slone made camp here. The mustang was tired. But Nagger, upon taking a
long drink, rolled in the grass as if he had just begun the trip. After
eating, S