Wildfire sniffed the wind and snorted. Slone turned, instantly alert. The wild horse had given an alarm. Like a flash Slone leaped into the saddle. A faint cry, away from the wind, startled Slone. It was like a cry he had heard in dreams. How overstrained his perceptions! He was not really sure of anything, yet on the instant he was tense. Straggling cedars on his left almost wholly obstructed Slone's view. Wildfire's ears and nose were pointed that way. Slone trotted him down toward the edge of this cedar clump so that he could see beyond. Before he reached it, however, he saw something blue, moving, waving, lifting. "Smoke!" muttered Slone. And he thought more of the danger of fire on that windy height than he did of another peril to himself. Wildfire was hard to hold as he rounded the edge of the cedars. Slone saw a line of leaping flame, a line of sweeping smoke, the grass on fire ... horses!--a man! Wildfire whistled his ringing blast of hate and menace, his desert challenge to another stallion. The man whirled to look. Slone saw Joel Creech--and Sage King--and Lucy, half naked, bound on his back! Joy, agony, terror in lightning-swift turns, paralyzed Slone. But Wildfire lunged out on the run. Sage King reared in fright, came down to plunge away, and with a magnificent leap cleared the line of fire. Slone, more from habit than thought, sat close in the saddle. A few of Wildfire's lengthening strides, quickened Slone's blood. Then Creech moved, also awaking from a stupefying surprise, and he snatched up a gun and fired. Slone saw the spurts of red, the puffs of white. But he heard nothing. The torrent of his changed blood, burning and terrible, filled his ears with hate and death. He guided the running stallion. In a few tremendous strides Wildfire struck Creech, and Slone had one glimpse of an awful face. The impact was terrific. Creech went hurtling through the air, limp and broken, to go down upon a rock, his skull cracking like a melon. The horse leaped over the body and the stone, and beyond he leaped the line of burning grass. Slone saw the King running into the forest. He saw poor Lucy's white body swinging with the horse's motion. One glance showed the great gray to be running wild. Then the hate and passion cleared away, leaving suspense and terror. Wildfire reached the pines. There down the open aisles between the black trees ran the fleet gray racer. Wildfire saw him and snorted. The King was a hundred yards to the fore. "Wildfire--it's come--the race--the race!" called Slone. But he could not hear his own call. There was a roar overhead, heavy, almost deafening. The wind! the wind! Yet that roar did not deaden a strange, shrieking crack somewhere behind. Wildfire leaped in fright. Slone turned. Fire had run up a pine-tree, which exploded as if the trunk were powder! "MY GOD! A RACE WITH FIRE! ... LUCY! LUCY!"