At sunset Slone was more shut
in than for several hours. He could tell the time was sunset by the golden
light on the cliff wall again overhanging him. The slope was gradual up to
this pass to the saddle, and upon coming to a spring, and the first
pine-trees, he decided to halt for a camp. The mustang was almost exhausted.
Thereupon he hobbled the horses in the luxuriant grass round the spring, and
then unrolled his pack. Once as dusk came stealing down, while he was eating
his meal, Nagger whistled in fright. Slone saw a gray, pantherish form gliding
away into the shadows. He took a quick shot at it, but missed.
"It's a lion country, all right," he said. And then he set about building a
big fire on the other side of the grassy plot, so to have the horses between
fires. He cut all the venison into thin strips, and spent an hour roasting
them. Then he lay down to rest, and he said: "Wonder where Wildfire is
to-night? Am I closer to him? Where's he headin' for?"
The night was warm and still. It was black near the huge cliff, and overhead
velvety blue, with stars of white fire.
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