"Bull," he whispered, "Hal Dunbar is down yonder with a couple of men.
He's come to ride Diablo. What'll we do, Bull? What'll we do?"
"Diablo will throw him," said Bull with conviction.
"But he won't. He can't," stammered the boy in his excitement.
"Nothing could throw Hal Dunbar. Wait till you see him! Just you wait
till you see. Gee, Bull, he's as big as you and--"
The other qualifications were apparently too amazing to be adequately
described by the vocabulary of Tod.
"If any other man can ride Diablo," said Bull at length, "I don't
think I care about him so much. I've been figuring that I'm the only
man who can get on his back. If somebody else can handle him, they're
welcome to the horse as far as I'm concerned."
"Are you going to let him go like that?" Tod was bitter with shame and
anger. "After all our work, are you going to give him up without
a fight?"
"A fight would be a gunfight, and a gunfight ends up in a death," said
Bull gently. "I don't like bloodshed, Tod!"
The boy writhed.
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