In a gloomy quandary he stared at the trembling, shining giant, who
stood with his head high and his tail flaunting, and all the fierce
pride of victory in his eye. One knot of people had gathered over the
fallen Hal Dunbar, but some remained, dazed and gaping, looking at the
form of the conqueror. A wild temptation came to Bull to test the
horse even in this crisis of excitement, with every evil passion
roused in him. He stepped out again, his right hand extended, his
voice soft.
"Diablo!"
The stallion jerked his head toward the voice, but the head was
twitched away as the man with the rope brought it taut again.
"You fool!" he shouted. "Get back, or the hoss'll nail you!"
Unreasoning rage poured thrilling through Bull Hunter. He shook his
great fist at the other.
"Slack away on that rope or I'll break you in two!"
There was a moment of amazed silence; then, with a curse, the rider
threw the rope on the ground.
"Get your head broke then!"
Bull Hunter had forgotten him already.
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