He was not patient, because he was on the trail of Wildfire; but, nevertheless, the hours seemed short.
Slone had no past to think about, and the future held nothing except a horse, and so his thoughts revolved the possibilities connected with this chase of Wildfire.

The chase was hopeless in such country as he was traversing, and if Wildfire chose to roam around valleys like this one Slone would fail utterly.

But the stallion had long ago left his band of horses, and then, one by one his favorite consorts, and now he was alone, headed with unerring instinct for wild, untrammeled ranges.
He had been used to the pure, cold water and the succulent grass of the cold desert uplands.

Assuredly he would not tarry in such barren lands as these.
For Slone an ever-present and growing fascination lay in Wildfire's clear, sharply defined tracks.

It was as if every hoof-mark told him something.