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Then he
loped Nagger along the side back to the sandy ascent, and on up to the mouth
of the pass. There he searched for tracks. Wildfire had not gone out, and
Slone experienced relief and exultation. He took up a position in the middle
of the narrowest part of the pass, and there, with Nagger ready for anything,
he once more composed himself to watch and wait.
Far across the darkness of the valley, low down, twelve lines of fire, widely
separated, crept toward one another. They appeared thin and slow, with only an
occasional leaping flame. And some of the black spaces must have been
monuments, blotting out the creeping snail-lines of red. Slone watched,
strangely fascinated.
"What do you think of that?" he said, aloud, and he meant his query for
Wildfire.
As he watched the lines perceptibly lengthened and brightened and pale shadows
of smoke began to appear. Over at the left of the valley the two brightest
fires, the first he had started, crept closer and closer together. They seemed
long in covering distance.


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