Search e-Books

Slone felt
something grip his heart. All the time and endurance and pain and thirst and
suspense and longing and hopelessness--the agony of the whole endless chase--
closed tight on his heart in that instant.
The running horse halted just in the belt of light cast by the burning grass.
There he stood sharply defined, clear as a cameo, not a hundred paces from
Slone. It was Wildfire.
Slone uttered an involuntary cry. Thrill on thrill shot through him. Delight
and hope and fear and despair claimed him in swift, successive flashes. And
then again the ruling passion of a rider held him--the sheer glory of a grand
and unattainable horse. For Slone gave up Wildfire in that splendid moment.
How had he ever dared to believe he could capture that wild stallion? Slone
looked and looked, filling his mind, regretting nothing, sure that the moment
was reward for all he had endured.
The weird lights magnified Wildfire and showed him clearly. He seemed
gigantic. He shone black against the fire. His head was high, his mane flying.


Pages:
143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167