Bull Hunter

by Max Brand

  CHAPTER 18

  Every second of the fight Bull Hunter had followed the actions of thehorse as though he were directing them from the distance with someelectric form of communication and control. When Hal Dunbar with ayell of despair was flung sidewise in the saddle as Diablo bucked inmid-air, Bull Hunter knew what was coming and lurched through the lineof watchers. Straight across the open space of the circle he raced ashe had never run before, and while the others stood frozen, while theman with the rope tugged futilely, Bull came in front of the stallionas Diablo whirled to smash his late rider to a pulp. There was noquestion of Dunbar crawling out of the way. He had rolled on his backwith arms outstretched, helplessly stunned. Even in the lightningspeed of the action Bull found time to wonder what would be the resultif the hoof of the wild horse crashed down into that upturned,handsome face, now stained with crimson and black with dust.

  He had no time to imagine further. Diablo, red-eyed with anger, hadwhirled on him and reared, and swerving from those terrible, pawinghoofs, Bull Hunter leaped in and up. His goal was not the tossingbridle rein, but the stout strap which circled the head just above thebit, and his big right hand jarred home on this goal. All his weightwas behind his stiffened arm, and under the blow the stallion lurchedhigher. A down-sweep of a forefoot gashed Bull's shoulder and tore hisshirt to shreds. But he pressed, expecting every instant the finishingblow on his head. In he went, with all his weight behind the effort,and felt the stallion stagger on his hind legs, then topple, losebalance, and fall with a crash on his side!

  Bull followed him in the fall, for half a step, then whirled, scoopedthe nerveless body of Hal Dunbar in his arms, and rushed staggeringunder the burden to the edge of the circle. Diablo had regained hisfooting instantly, but as he strove to follow, the rope had drawn tautabout his throat, and he was checked.

  As for Bull Hunter, he laid the senseless burden down in safety, andturned toward the stallion. One haunting fear was in his mind. HadDiablo been sufficiently blinded in the excitement of the battle tofail to recognize him, or had the great horse known the hand thattoppled it back? In the latter case Bull Hunter could never come nearthe black without peril of his life.

  In a gloomy quandary he stared at the trembling, shining giant, whostood with his head high and his tail flaunting, and all the fiercepride of victory in his eye. One knot of people had gathered over thefallen Hal Dunbar, but some remained, dazed and gaping, looking at theform of the conqueror. A wild temptation came to Bull to test thehorse even in this crisis of excitement, with every evil passionroused in him. He stepped out again, his right hand extended, hisvoice soft.

  "Diablo!"

  The stallion jerked his head toward the voice, but the head wastwitched 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 hisgreat 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 riderthrew the rope on the ground.

  "Get your head broke then!"

  Bull Hunter had forgotten him already. He had resumed that approach.At his voice the stallion turned that proud and terrible head--withthe ears flattened against his neck. It gave him an ominous, snakelikeappearance about the head, but still Bull went steadily and slowlytoward him with his hand out, that ancient gesture of peace and goodwill. There were shouts and warnings from the others. Hal Dunbar, hissenses returned, had staggered to his feet; he had received no injuryin the fall, and now he gaped in amazement at this empty-handed manapproaching the stallion. And Diablo was no longer controlled bythe rope!

  But all the outcries meant nothing to Bull Hunter. They faded to ablur. All he saw was the head of the stallion. Had he known andremembered that fall and the hand that forced him to it? He could nottell. There might be any murderous intent in that quivering,crouching form.

  Just that name, over and over again, very softly, "Diablo! Steady,Diablo!"

  Now he was within two paces--within a yard--his fingers were close tothe terrible head and the ears of Diablo pricked forward.

  "Ah, Diablo! They'll never touch you with the spurs again!"

  The stallion made a long step, and with his head raised he looked overthe shoulder of Bull Hunter and snorted his defiance at all other menin the world! And down his neck the big, gentle hand was running,soothing his quivering body, and the steady voice was bringinginfinite messages of reassurance to the troubled brain. That hand wasloosening now the rope which was burning into his neck--loosening it,drawing it off. And now the bridle followed; and Diablo's mouth wasfree from the cruel taint of the steel. The head of the stallionturned--great, soft eyes looked into the face of Bull Hunter andaccepted him as a friend forever.

  Hal Dunbar, groggy from the shock of the fall, staggered toward them.

  "Get away from the horse!" he commanded. "Hey, Riley, grab Diablo forme again. I'll ride him this time."

  He was too unsteady to walk in a straight line, but the fire of battlewas in his eyes again. There was no doubting the gameness of the bigman. Old Bridewell caught his arm and drew him back.

  "If Diablo gets a sniff of you on the wind he'll come at you like awolf. Stand back here--and watch!"

  Hal Dunbar was too dazed to resist. Besides, he began to see that alleyes were focused on the black stallion and the man beside him. Thatman was the huge, cloddish stranger who had advised him to ridewithout spurs. Then the full meaning came to Dunbar. The rope was nolonger around the neck of the stallion. The very bridle had been takenfrom his head, and yet the stranger stood undaunted beside him, andthe stallion did not seem to be angered by that nearness.

  The next thing Dunbar heard was the voice of Bridewell saying,"Nerviest thing I ever seen. I been putting this Bull Hunter down fora half-wit, pretty near. All his strength in his back and none in hishead. But I changed my mind today. When you hit the ground, Diablowhirled on you, and he'd of smashed you to bits before they couldchoke him down and pull him away, but Bull came out of the crowd onthe run, grabbed the bridle, made Diablo rear, took that cut on hisshoulder, and threw him fair and square. Finest, coolest, headiestthing I ever seen done with a hoss in a pinch. And he saved your skin,Dunbar. You'd be a mess this minute, if it wasn't for Hunter! He threwDiablo and turned around and picked you up as if you was a baby andpacked you over here. Then he went back--and you see what'she's doing?"

  "He saved my life?" muttered Dunbar. "That big--He saved my life?"

  Gratitude, for the moment at least, was obscured in his mind. All hefelt vividly was a burning shame. He, Hal Dunbar, the invincible, hadbeen beaten fairly and squarely in the battle with the horse; not onlythis, he had been saved from complete destruction only by theintervention of this nonentity, this Bull Hunter whom he had scornedonly a few moments before. He looked about him in blind anger at thebystanders. Worst of all, this was a new country where he was onlyvaguely known, and whenever his name was mentioned in these parts inthe future, there would be someone to tell of the superior prowess ofHunter, and how the life of Dunbar was thrown away and saved byanother. No wonder that big Hal Dunbar writhed with the shame of it.

  He forgot even that emotion now in wonder at what was happening.Hunter had stepped to the side of the horse, raised his foot, and putit in the stirrup. Did the fool intend to climb into the saddle whilethat black devil was not blindfolded, without even a bridle?

  That, in fact, was what he was doing. The steady murmur of the voiceof Hunter reached him as the big man soothed the horse. He saw thehead of Diablo turn, saw him sniff the shoulder of his companion, andthen Hunter lifted himself slowly into the saddle. There was a groanof excitement from the spectators, and at the sound rather than at theweight of his back, Diablo crouched. It was only for a moment that hequivered, wild-eyed, irresolute. Then he straightened and threw up hishead. Bull Hunter, his face white and drawn but his mouth resolute,had t
ouched the shining flank of the stallion, and Diablo moved into asoft trot, gentle as the flowing of water.

  Before him the circle split and rolled back. He glided through, guidedby a hand that touched lightly on his neck, and in an utter silence hewas seen to turn the corner of the nearest shed and approach thecorral. Hal Dunbar, rubbing his eyes, was the first to speak.

  "A trick horse!" he said. "By the Lord, a trick horse!"

  "The first time I ever seen him play that trick," gasped oldBridewell, his eyes huge and round, "except when Tod was up on him. Idunno what's happened. It's like a dream. But there's a saddle on himnow, and that was something even Tod could never make him stand. Idunno what's happened!"

  The little crowd broke up into chattering groups. Here had been athing that would bear telling and retelling for many a year. In theconfusion Dunbar's man, Riley, approached his employer.

  Both gratitude and shame were forgotten by Dunbar now. He gripped theshoulder of this man and groaned, "I've lost him, Riley! The onlyhorse ever foaled that could have carried me the way a man should becarried. Now I'll have to ride plow horses the rest of my life!"

  He pointed to the cloddish, heavy-limbed gray which he had ridden inhis quest for the superhorse at the Bridewell place.

  "I been thinking," said Riley. "I been thinking a pile the last fewminutes."

  "What you been thinking about? What good does thinking do me? I'velost the horse, haven't I, and that half-wit has him?"

  "He has him--now," suggested Riley, watching the face of the big manfor fear that he might go too far.

  "You mean by that?" queried the master.

  "Exactly," said Riley. "Because he has the black now, it doesn't meanthat he's going to have him forever, does it?"

  "Riley, you're a devil. That fellow saved my life, they tell me."

  "I don't mean you're going to bump him off. But suppose you get him tocome and work on your place? There might be ways of getting thehoss--buying him or something. Get him there, and we'll find a way.Besides, he can teach you how to handle the hoss before you get him. Isay it's all turned out for the best."

  Dunbar frowned. "Take him with me? And every place I go I hear itsaid, 'There's the man who rode the horse that threw Dunbar!' No, cursehim, I'll see him in Hades before I take him with me!"

  "How else are you going to get the hoss? Tell me that?"

  "That's it," muttered Dunbar. "I've got to have him. I've got to havehim! Did you watch? I felt as if the big black devil had wings."

  "He had you in the air most of the time, all right," and Rileygrinned.

  "Shut up," snapped his master. "But the chief thing is, I want to showthat big black fiend that I'm his master. He--he's beaten me once. Butone beating doesn't finish me!"

  "Then go get Hunter to come with us when we ride back."

  Dunbar hesitated another instant and then nodded. "It has to be done."

  He strode off in pursuit of Bull and presently found the big man inthe corral rubbing down the stallion; the little bright-eyed Tod wasclose beside them. It had been a great day for Tod. First he had feltthat his giant pupil was disgraced--a man without spirit. And then, inthe time of blackest doubt, Bull Hunter had become a hero andaccomplished the great feat--ridden Diablo, before all the incredulouseyes of the watchers. All of Tod's own efforts had been repaid athousandfold when he heard Bull say to one of those who followed withquestions and admiration, "It's not my work. Tod showed me how to goabout it. Tod deserves the credit."

  That was the reason that Tod's eyes now were supernally bright whenbig Hal Dunbar approached. Diablo showed signs of excitement, butCharlie Hunter quieted him with a word and went to the bars of thecorral. The hand of Dunbar was stretched out, and Bull took it withhumble earnestness.

  "I'm glad you weren't hurt bad," he said. "For a minute or two I wasscared that Diablo--"

  "I know," cut in Dunbar, for he detested a new description of thescene of his failure. Then he made himself smile. "But I've come tothank you for what you did, Hunter. Between you and me, I know that Italked rather sharp to you a while back. I'm sorry for that. Andnow--why, man, your side must be wounded!"

  "It's just a little scratch," said Bull good-naturedly. "It isn't thefirst time that Diablo has made me bleed but now--well, isn't he wortha fight, Mr. Dunbar?"

  And he gestured to the magnificent, watchful head of the stallion. Theheart of Hal Dunbar swelled in him. By fair means or foul, he musthave that horse, and on the spot he made his proposition to Hunter. Hehad only to climb on the back of Diablo and ride south with him; thepay would be anything--double what he got from Bridewell, who,besides, was almost through with him, Dunbar understood.

  "But I'm not much good," and Bull sighed reluctantly. "I can't use arope, and I don't know cattle, and--"

  "I'll find uses for you. Will you come?"

  So it was settled. But before Bull climbed into the saddle and startedoff after Dunbar, little Tod drew him to one side.

  "There ain't any good in Dunbar. Watch him and--remember me, Bull."