He drew a vague comparison between that success and his mastery of Diablo.  The big stallion was like a kitten under his hand.  It required much coaxing during the first half-day of riding to bring Diablo within speaking distance of the other men, but gradually he discovered that they could do him no harm so long as the gentle voice of Hunter was near him; thereafter he was entirely amenable to reason.  One could see that the stallion was learning difficult lessons, but he was learning them fast.  Eye and ear and scent told him that these creatures were dangerous.  Old experience told him that they were dangerous, and only a blind trust in Bull Hunter enabled him to conquer the panic which surged up in his brain time and again.  But he kept on trying, and the constant struggle against men which had featured his life made him astonishingly quick to pick up new facts.  The first step had been the hard one, and it seemed to Bull Hunter that the close-knit, smooth-flowing muscles beneath him were carrying him onward into the esteem of all men.  To Diablo he gave the praise, and after Diablo to little freckled Tod, and to Pete Reeve, the fighter.  As for taking any credit for himself, that idea never came to him for a moment.

The long trip took two days.  They crossed the green, rolling hills; they passed the foothills, and climbing steadily they came onto a broad, high plateau—­it was a natural kingdom, this ranch of the Dunbars.  The fence around it was the continuous range of mountains skirting the plateau on all sides, and in every direction up to those blue summits as far as the eye carried, stretched the land which owned Hal Dunbar as master.  To Bull Hunter, when they reached the crest, and the broad domain was pointed out to him, this seemed a princely stretch indeed, and Hal Dunbar was more like a king than ever.  It was easy to forgive pride in such a man and a certain asperity of temper.  How could so rich and powerful a man be like others?

The ranch house was worthy of such a holding.  A heavy growth of beautiful silver spruce swept up the slope of some hills, and riding through the forest, one caught the first glimpse of the building.  It was spread out carelessly, the foundations laid deep to cover the irregularities of the ground.  It was a heterogeneous mass, obviously not the work of any one builder.  Here a one-story wing rambled far to the side, built heavily, of logs rudely squared, and there was a three-story frame section of the house; and still again there was a tall tower effect of rough stone.  As for the barns and sheds which swept away down the farther and lower slopes, the meanest of them looked to Bull as though it might have made a home of more than average comfort.

The three other riders noted the gaping astonishment of Bull and passed the wink quietly around.  To Hal Dunbar it was growing more and more annoying that he had to trouble himself with such a clod of a man and use diplomacy where contemptuous force would have been so much more after his heart.  But he continued to follow the scheme first laid down for his pursuit by clever Riley, and when they came to the wide-ranging stable he assigned the black stallion to a roomy box stall.  Bull Hunter thanked him for the courtesy as though it had been a direct personal favor; as a matter of fact, Hal felt that he was merely taking care of a horse which was already as good as his.