And he had
come back for more, and more. Yet it was not until the next night that
Bull ventured inside the bars of the corral and sat cross-legged on
the ground, with a vague feeling that Diablo would be less alarmed if
his visitor bulked less large.
Inside the bars he seemed an entirely new proposition to the stallion.
The big black kept discreetly on the far side of the corral with much
snorting and stamping, and it was not until the next evening that he
ventured to approach the man. Still another day passed before Bull was
allowed to stand and touch the neck of the black; and that, it seemed
to him, was the greatest forward step toward the conquest.
It was terribly slow work, and in the meantime the skeleton frame of
the barn was fast rising. Would he accomplish his purpose by the time
the barn was completed and Bridewell no longer had a use for him? Or
would Hal Dunbar arrive before that appointed time? That night,
however, another portentous event happened. Waking in the night, Bull
heard a sound of deep, regular breathing close to him, and, turning on
his side, he saw that Diablo had lain down as close to him as the
corral fence would allow, and there he slept, panther-black, sleek in
the starlight.
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