She knew that whistle.
"Wildfire!" she screamed, with bursting heart.
The King gave a mighty convulsive bound of terror. He, too, knew that whistle.
And in that one great bound he launched out into a run. Straight across the
line of burning grass! Lucy felt the sting of flame. Smoke blinded and choked
her. Then clear, dry, keen wind sung in her ears and whipped her hair. The
light about her darkened. The King had headed into the pines. The heavy roar
of the gale overhead struck Lucy with new and torturing dread. Sage King once
in his life was running away, bridleless, and behind him there was fire on the
wings of the wind.
CHAPTER XVII
For the first time in his experience Bostil found that horse-trading palled
upon him. This trip to Durango was a failure. Something was wrong. There was a
voice constantly calling into his inner ear--a voice to which he refused to
listen. And during the five days of the return trip the strange mood grew upon
him.
The last day he and his riders covered over fifty miles and reached the Ford
late at night.
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