To crown all, there was
a remarkably handsome face, dark eyes and coal-black hair.
Yet, more than the imposing body of this hero of the ranges, Bull was
impressed by the spirit of the man. The thing that Tod had felt, he
felt in turn. It shone from the eye, it spoke in the set of Dunbar's
mouth, something unconquerable. It was impossible, after a single
glance, to imagine this man failing. Diablo, it was true, had the same
invincible air. Indeed, they seemed meant for each other, this horse
and this man. They might have been picked from a crowd and the one
assigned to the other. Huge, lithe, fleet, powerful, and fiercely
free, surely Hal Dunbar was intended by fate to sit in the saddle and
govern Diablo according to his will.
The heart of Charlie Hunter sank. Here was the end, then, of all the
love he had put into his work, of all the feminine gentleness with
which he had petted Diablo and soothed him. And he discovered, in that
bitter moment, that he had not worked merely to gain control of the
horse.
Pages:
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233