Then he loped Nagger along the side back to the sandy ascent, and on up to the mouth of the pass.

There he searched for tracks.
Wildfire had not gone out, and Slone experienced relief and exultation.
He took up a position in the middle of the narrowest part of the pass, and there, with Nagger ready for anything, he once more composed himself to watch and wait.
Far across the darkness of the valley, low down, twelve lines of fire, widely separated, crept toward one another.

They appeared thin and slow, with only an occasional leaping flame.

And some of the black spaces must have been monuments, blotting out the creeping snail-lines of red.

Slone watched, strangely fascinated.
"What do you think of that ?" he said, aloud, and he meant his query for Wildfire.
As he watched the lines perceptibly lengthened and brightened and pale shadows of smoke began to appear.