All his weight
was behind his stiffened arm, and under the blow the stallion lurched
higher. A down-sweep of a forefoot gashed Bull's shoulder and tore his
shirt to shreds. But he pressed, expecting every instant the finishing
blow on his head. In he went, with all his weight behind the effort,
and felt the stallion stagger on his hind legs, then topple, lose
balance, and fall with a crash on his side!
Bull followed him in the fall, for half a step, then whirled, scooped
the nerveless body of Hal Dunbar in his arms, and rushed staggering
under the burden to the edge of the circle. Diablo had regained his
footing instantly, but as he strove to follow, the rope had drawn taut
about his throat, and he was checked.
As for Bull Hunter, he laid the senseless burden down in safety, and
turned toward the stallion. One haunting fear was in his mind. Had
Diablo been sufficiently blinded in the excitement of the battle to
fail to recognize him, or had the great horse known the hand that
toppled it back? In the latter case Bull Hunter could never come near
the black without peril of his life.
Pages:
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245