Lucy felt the King trembling in every muscle.  She knew that was flight.  She expected his loud snort, and was prepared for it when it rang out.  In a second he would bolt.  She knew that.  She thrilled.  She tried to call to him, but her lips were weak.  Creech seemed paralyzed.  The King shifted his position, and Lucy’s last glimpse of Creech was one she would never forget.  It was as if Creech faced burning hell!

Then the King whistled and reared.  Lucy heard swift, dull, throbbing beats.  Beats of a fast horse’s hoofs on the run!  She felt a surging thrill of joy.  She could not think.  All of her blood and bone and muscle seemed to throb.  Suddenly the air split to a high-pitched, wild, whistling blast.  It pierced to Lucy’s mind.  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.  No one expected them, and only the men on duty at the corrals knew of the return.  Bostil, much relieved to get home, went to bed and at once fell asleep.

He awakened at a late hour for him.  When he dressed and went out to the kitchen he found that his sister had learned of his return and had breakfast waiting.

“Where’s the girl?” asked Bostil.

“Not up yet,” replied Aunt Jane.

“What!”

“Lucy and I had a tiff last night and she went to her room in a temper.”

“Nothin’ new about thet.”

“Holley and I have had our troubles holding her in.  Don’t you forget that.”

Bostil laughed.  “Wal, call her an’ tell her I’m home.”

Aunt Jane did as she was bidden.  Bostil finished his breakfast.  But Lucy did not come.