“The first time I ever seen him play that trick,” gasped old Bridewell, his eyes huge and round, “except when Tod was up on him.  I dunno what’s happened.  It’s like a dream.  But there’s a saddle on him now, and that was something even Tod could never make him stand.  I dunno what’s happened!”

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

Both gratitude and shame were forgotten by Dunbar now.  He gripped the shoulder of this man and groaned, “I’ve lost him, Riley!  The only horse ever foaled that could have carried me the way a man should be carried.  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 in his quest for the superhorse at the Bridewell place.

“I been thinking,” said Riley.  “I been thinking a pile the last few minutes.”

“What you been thinking about?  What good does thinking do me?  I’ve lost the horse, haven’t I, and that half-wit has him?”

“He has him—­now,” suggested Riley, watching the face of the big man for 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 mean that 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 to come and work on your place?  There might be ways of getting the hoss—­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.  I say it’s all turned out for the best.”

Dunbar frowned.  “Take him with me?  And every place I go I hear it said, ‘There’s the man who rode the horse that threw Dunbar!’ No, curse him, 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 have him!  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 Riley grinned.

“Shut up,” snapped his master.  “But the chief thing is, I want to show that big black fiend that I’m his master.  He—­he’s beaten me once.  But one 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 in the corral rubbing down the stallion; the little bright-eyed Tod was close beside them.  It had been a great day for Tod.  First he had felt that his giant pupil was disgraced—­a man without spirit.  And then, in the time of blackest doubt, Bull Hunter had become a hero and accomplished the great feat—­ridden Diablo, before all the incredulous eyes of the watchers.  All of Tod’s own efforts had been repaid a thousandfold when he heard Bull say to one of those who followed with questions and admiration, “It’s not my work.  Tod showed me how to go about it.  Tod deserves the credit.”