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Any moment, then, Slone expected him to grow terrorized
and to come tearing up toward the pass.
Wildfire showed evidence of terror, but he did not attempt to make the pass.
Instead he went at the right-hand slope of the valley and began to climb. The
slope was steep and soft, yet the stallion climbed up and up. The dust flew in
clouds; the gravel rolled down, and the sand followed in long streams.
Wildfire showed his keenness by zigzagging up the slope.
"Go ahead, you red devil!" yelled Slone. He was much elated. In that soft bank
Wildfire would tire out while not hurting himself.
Slone watched the stallion in admiration and pity and exultation. Wildfire did
not make much headway, for he slipped back almost as much as he gained. He
attempted one place after another where he failed. There was a bank of clay,
some few feet high, and he could not round it at either end or surmount it in
the middle. Finally he literally pawed and cut a path, much as if he were
digging in the sand for water. When he got over that he was not much better
off.


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