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Lin was silent, as if impressed.
Bill raised a strong, lean, brown hand in a forcible gesture. "We can't ketch
Wildfire!"
That seemed to him, evidently, a more convincing argument than his comrade's.
"Bill is sure right, if I'm wrong, which I ain't," went on the other. "Lin,
we've trailed thet wild stallion for six weeks. Thet's the longest chase he
ever had. He's left his old range. He's cut out his band, an' left them, one
by one. We've tried every trick we know on him. An' he's too smart for us.
There's a hoss! Why, Lin, we're all but gone to the dogs chasin' Wildfire. An'
now I'm done, an' I'm glad of it."
There was another short 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.


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