The light of the day was nearly done; the moon was barely up,
and all things were ghostly and unreal in that slant light.
Something of all that went through the mind of Diablo was understood
by Bull Hunter. It was telegraphed to him by the twitching and
vibration of great muscles, by the stiff arching of the neck, and the
snorting breathing. But he was beginning to forget fear. The stallion
danced lightly forward, and as the wind struck the face of Bull Hunter
he suddenly rejoiced. This was what he had dreamed of, to be carried
thus lightly, easily. The weight that had crushed other horses was
nothing to Diablo. It made him feel buoyant. He became tinglingly
alert. On the back of Diablo not a horse of the mountains could
overtake him if he fled; and not a man of the mountains could escape
him if he pursued on the back of the stallion.
That thought had hardly formed in his excited mind when Diablo sprang,
cat-footed, to one side. It made Bull Hunter sway, and he naturally
sought to preserve his balance by gripping the powerful barrel of the
horse with his knees.
Pages:
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224