sweeping into the trees, faster than he had ever dreamed. Even now his enemies were enclosed in a prison of fiery walls from which they never could escape. "I've got you," he cried in triumph. "You thought you could trample on me and get away with it, but I've shown you." He lifted his powerful hand. "I've crushed you—like that."
His brutal fingers closed. His fiery eyes glowed with self-worship. "With this hand," he exulted, in half-insane rapture. "This is the hand that crushed you—no one else's. You thought you could stand against it, but it's smashed you at last."
He waited a little while more, fascinated by the lightning advance of the fire. The brush and trees were particularly heavy in this glade—and the red tongues swept forward with startling rapidity. He hadn't much time to linger further. It was always best to play safe—and take no chances on this demon of fire. Yet he stayed, thrilled and fascinated by his handiwork.
All at once a crackle behind him caused him to glance quickly over his shoulder. He saw to his terror that a little arm of the fire had spread here, too. He whirled his horse, then with a savage oath lashed down with his quirt.
Yet plenty of time remained, by riding swiftly, to save himself. There was no need for fear. He would go straight to his home, and from its windows he could watch the progress of the fire.
