But it left him quickly.

He had studied those slopes and walls.

Wildfire could not get out, except by the pass he had entered, unless he could fly.
Slone lay in the shade, his head propped on his saddle, and while gazing down into the shimmering hollow he began to plan.

He calculated that he must be able to carry fire swiftly across the far end of the basin, so that he would not be absent long from the mouth of the pass.
Fire was always a difficult matter, since he must depend only on flint and steel.

He decided to wait till dark, build a fire with dead cedar sticks, and carry a bundle of them with burning ends.