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Behind him the fire flared and the valley-wide column of smoke rolled
majestically upward, and the great monuments seemed to retreat darkly and
mysteriously as the flames advanced beyond them. It was a beautiful, unearthly
spectacle, with its silence the strangest feature.
But suddenly Wildfire broke that silence with a whistle which to Slone's
overstrained faculties seemed a blast as piercing as the splitting sound of
lightning. And with the whistle Wildfire plunged up toward the pass. Slone
yelled at the top of his lungs and fired his gun before he could terrorize the
stallion and drive him back down the slope. Soon Wildfire became again a
running black object, and then he disappeared.
The great line of fire had gotten beyond the monuments and now stretched
unbroken across the valley from wall to slope. Wildfire could never pierce
that line of flames. And now Slone saw, in the paling sky to the east, that
dawn was at hand.

CHAPTER VII
Slone looked grimly glad when simultaneously with the first red flash of
sunrise a breeze fanned his cheek.


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