The speech was full of bitter failure, of regret, of the hardness of a rider who could not give up the horse to freedom.
Slone meant to ride down there and fire the long grass.

In that wind there would indeed be wildfire to race with the red stallion.

It would perhaps mean his death; at least it would chase him out of that hole, where to follow him would be useless.
"I'd make you hump now to get away if I could get behind you," muttered Slone.

He saw that if he could fire the grass on the other side the wind of flame would drive Wildfire straight toward him.

The slopes and walls narrowed up to the pass, but high grass grew to within a few rods of where Slone stood.