Diablo had begun to sunfish in the most approved method, and swirled from this to some fence rowing as swift as the jagged course of lightning.  At every jump Bull could see an imaginary rider snapped from the back of the black giant.  A cloud of dust was sent swishing up, and in the midst of this fog, Diablo came to a pause as sudden as the beginning of his strange struggle against an imaginary foeman; but it seemed to Bull Hunter that the ground beneath his feet was still quivering from the impacts of that mighty body.

“That’s just his way of telling you what he’ll do when you try to saddle him,” chuckled the boy.

As he spoke he slipped through the bars of the corral.

“Look out!” exclaimed Bull in horror, for the stallion had rushed at the small intruder with gaping mouth.  Bull reached for his gun—­Diablo was already on the child, but at the last minute he swerved, and flashed around Tod in a circle.

“He’s all right,” Tod was shrilling through his laughter, for the horrified face of Bull amused him.  “That’s just his way of saying that he’s glad to see me!”

In fact, Diablo came to a sudden halt directly behind the child, his head towering aloft above that of Tod while he flashed his defiance at Bull Hunter, as though he were making use of the small bulwark of Tod against the stranger.

“Diablo, you old fool,” the boy was saying, as he reached up and managed to wind his fingers in the end of Diablo’s mane, “you come along and meet my friend, Bull Hunter.  I figure you’re going to get to know him pretty good before long.  Hey, Bull, come up close to the bars so’s he can see you ain’t got a rope or a whip or spurs, and stick your hand out so’s he can sniff at it.  That’s his way of saying how d’ye do.”

Bull obeyed, and to his amazement, Diablo responded to the small forward urge of the child’s hand and approached the bars one trembling step at a time.  Bull began to talk to him softly.  He had never talked like this to any living creature.  He did not know exactly what he said.  The words came of their own accord into his throat.  He only knew that he wanted to reassure the big, powerful, uncertain brute, and though Diablo stopped short at the first sound of Bull’s voice and laid his ears back, he presently pricked one of those ears again and allowed himself to be drawn forward with long, crouching strides.

“That’s the way!” said the child softly, as though he feared that a loud voice might break in upon the spell.  “You know how to talk to him!  And, outside of me, you’re the only one that does!  I knew you’d have it in you!”

For Diablo had extended his long neck and actually sniffed the hand of Bull Hunter.  He immediately tossed his head aloft, but he did not flinch away.

“That’s half the fight won already,” advised the boy in the same soft voice.  “D’you want to try the saddle on him now?”

“The saddle?  Now?” exclaimed Bull.  “I should say not!  Why, he don’t hardly know me; I’ll have to get acquainted before I try anything like that.”