He discovered that Tod was nodding in hearty approval.

“You do know,” he said.  “Don’t tell me that you ain’t been around hosses a pile.  Yep, you got to get acquainted.  What you want to do now?”

Bull considered.  “I’d like to have something to show him that it isn’t unpleasant having me around.  I’d like to have him see some good results, you know?  Is there anything I could feed him?”

The boy chuckled.  “Best thing is some dried prunes with the pits taken out of ’em.  I have some at the house.  They get stuck in Diablo’s teeth and it’s sure funny to see him eat ’em.  But he just nacherally plumb likes the taste of the prunes.”

He followed his own suggestion by scampering away to the house and returned almost at once with a hat full of the prunes.

“You want to feed him these now?”

“First,” said Bull, “I’d like to have you leave us alone.  If I can’t teach him to like me all by myself, then I’d better give up right away.”

The boy looked at him in surprise and then impulsively stretched out his hand.  They shook hands gravely.

“You got the right idea, pardner,” said Tod.  “Go ahead—­and good luck!  And keep talking to him all the time.  That’s the main thing!”

He retreated accordingly, but before the evening was over, Bull regretted dismissing his little ally so quickly, for although Diablo indulged in no more threatening outbreaks of temper, he resolutely refused to eat the prunes from Bull’s hand.  Several times he approached the bars of the corral and the patiently extended hand, but always he drew back, snorting, and sometimes he would run around the corral, shaking his head and throwing up his heels after the manner of a horse tempted but still afraid of being overruled.

It was long after dark when Bull gave up the attempt.  He went back to the bunkhouse, rolled up the blankets which had been assigned to him, and carried them out to the corral.  Close to the fence he laid them down, and a few minutes later he was wrapped in them and sound asleep.  The last thing he remembered was the form of the great stallion, standing watchfully in the exact middle of the corral, the starlight glimmering very faintly in his big eyes.

Bull Hunter fell asleep and had a nightmare of the arrival of the famous Hal Dunbar the next day, a fierce conquest of Diablo, and the battle ending with the departure of Dunbar on the back of the stallion.

The dream waked him, nervous, and he turned and saw Diablo standing huge and formidable in the darkness, as though he had not moved from his first position.

In the morning the arduous labors of the building began again, and though the prodigious appetite of Bull at the breakfast table made even old Bridewell look askance, Bull had not been at work an hour handling the ponderous uprights and joists before his employer was smiling to himself.  His new hand was certainly worth his keep, and more, for weariness seemed a stranger to that big body, and no weight was too great to be cheerily assumed.  And always he worked with a sort of nervous anxiety as though he feared that he might not be doing enough.