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For a change Wildfire had climbed high up a slope of talus, through a narrow
pass, rounded over with drifting sand. And Slone gazed down into a huge
amphitheater full of monuments, like all that strange country. A basin three
miles across lay beneath him. Walls and weathered slants of rock and steep
slopes of reddish-yellow sand inclosed this oval depression. The floor was
white, and it seemed to move gently or radiate with heat-waves. Studying it,
Slone made out that the motion was caused by wind in long bleached grass. He
had crossed small areas of this grass in different parts of the region.
Wildfire's tracks led down into this basin, and presently Slone, by straining
his eyes, made out the red spot that was the stallion.
"He's lookin' to quit the country," soliloquized Slone, as he surveyed the
scene.
With keen, slow gaze Slone studied the lay of wall and slope, and when he had
circled the huge depression he made sure that Wildfire could not get out
except by the narrow pass through which he had gone in.


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