"And you didn't come to ride Diablo?"
"No. I just stopped in to see him. And--" Bull sighed profoundly.
"I know. He gives even me a touch now and then, though I know what a
devil he is!"
"Devil?" repeated Bull, astonished. "Why, he's as gentle as a kitten!"
"Because you seen Tod ride him?" Bridewell laughed. "That don't mean
nothing. Tod can bully him, sure. But just let a grown man come near
him--with a saddle! That'll change things pretty pronto! You'll see
the finest little bit of boiled-down hell-raising that ever was! The
jingle of a pair of spurs is Diablo's idea of a drum--and he makes his
charge right off! Gentle? Huh!" The grunt was expressive. "And what
good's a hoss if he can't be rode with a saddle?" He waved the subject
of Diablo into the distance. "They ain't any hope unless Hal Dunbar
can ride him. If he can't, I'll shoot the beast!"
"Shoot him?" echoed Bull Hunter. He took a pace back, and his big,
boyish face clouded to a frown. "Not that, I guess!"
"Why not?" asked Bridewell, curious at the change in the big stranger.
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