It afforded him great relief to find that Creech's trail turned into a canyon on the left; and here, with the sun already low, Slone began to watch the clumps of cedars and the jumbles of rock.But he was not ambushed.Darkness set in, and, being tired out, he was about to halt for the night when he caught the flicker of a campfire.The stallion saw it, too, but did not snort.
Slone dismounted and, leading him, went cautiously forward on foot, rifle in hand.
The canyon widened at a point where two breaks occurred, and the less-restricted space was thick with cedar and pinyon.Slone could tell by the presence of these trees and also by a keener atmosphere that he was slowly getting to a higher attitude.This camp-fire must belong to Cordts or the one man who had gone on ahead.And Slone advanced boldly.He did not have to make up his mind what to do.
But he was amazed to see several dark forms moving to and fro before the bright camp-fire, and he checked himself abruptly.Considering a moment, Slone thought he had better have a look at these fellows.So he tied Wildfire and, taking to the darker side of the canyon, he stole cautiously forward.
The distance was considerable, as he had calculated.Soon, however, he made out the shadowy outlines of horses feeding in the open.He hugged the canyon wall for fear they might see him.As luck would have it the night breeze was in his favor.Stealthily he stole on, in the deep shadow of the wall, and under the cedars, until he came to a point opposite the camp-fire, and then he turned toward it.He went slowly, carefully, noiselessly, and at last he crawled through the narrow aisles between thick sage-brush.Another clump of cedars loomed up, and he saw the flickering of firelight upon the pale-green foliage.
He heard gruff voices before he raised himself to look, and by this he gauged his distance.He was close enough--almost too close.But as he crouched in dark shade and there were no horses near, he did not fear discovery.
When he peered out from his covert the first thing to strike and hold his rapid glance was the slight figure of a girl.Slone stifled a gasp in his throat.He thought he recognized Lucy.Stunned, he crouched down again with his hands clenched round his rifle.And there he remained for a long moment of agony before reason asserted itself over emotion.Had he really seen Lucy? He had heard of a girl now and then in the camps of these men, especially Cordts.
Maybe Creech had fallen in with comrades.No, he could not have had any comrades there but horse-thieves, and Creech was above that.If Creech was there he had been held up by Cordts; if Lucy only was with the gang, Creech had been killed.
Slone had to force himself to look again.The girl had changed her position.
But the light shone upon the men.Creech was not one of the three, nor Cordts, nor any man Slone had seen before.They were not honest men, judging from their hard, evil looks.Slone was nonplussed and he was losing self-control.
Again he lowered himself and waited.He caught the word "Durango" and "hosses"and "fer enough in," the meaning of which was, vague.Then the girl laughed.
And Slone found himself trembling with joy.Beyond any doubt that laugh could not have been Lucy's.
Slone stole back as he had come, reached the shadow of the wall, and drew away until he felt it safe to walk quickly.When he reached the place where he expected to find Wildfire he did not see him.Slone looked and looked.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 Wild-fire.
"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.
