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Updated: June 8, 2025
Even Lauzanne's attack, though it gave Allis a respite, would not have saved her life; the madly fighting horses would have kicked and trampled her to death. "My God! Back, back, you devils!" And pushing, crowding, hugging the side of the stall, Mortimer fought his way to the girl. Once Diablo's hoof shot out and the man's left arm, snapping like a pistol, dropped useless at his side.
"Yes, that's the name," affirmed Crane, drawing a semicircle in the air with his cigar, "and he's a devil on wheels, by all accounts. Diablo's no angel, as you've said, Langdon, and this boy made him a heap worse.
Lots of albacore and tuna. But it costs boats and sometimes men to get them. Dad used to fish out here, but something was always sure to happen about the time he got well started. Just like yesterday. Diablo's a place," she said slowly, "where a man just can't make a mistake. If he does, he never lives to tell what happened."
This information caused him little interest at first; indeed, he marveled somewhat at two such clever men as Crane and Langdon acquiring a horse of Diablo's caliber. Faust's business relationship with Crane was to a certain degree tentative. Crane never confided utterly in anybody; if agents obeyed his behests, well and good; and each transaction was always completed in itself.
He lighted the latter and held it flame down till a few drops of wax formed a tiny lake; into this he stuck the candle upright, shielding its flame with his coat. He opened the knife and laying it down, inspected minutely the bridle which lay across his leg. "It's Diablo's right enough," he said; "I couldn't be mistook on the bit, nor them strong lines."
He'll probably fine Diablo's rider a hundred dollars; I believe it's customary to do that when a jockey persistently refuses to come up with his horses. Just look at that! the black fiend has lashed out and nearly crippled something." "Not Lucretia, Mr. Crane!" gasped Allis. "No, it's a chestnut there they go! Good boy, Westley. I mean Diablo's jockey has done a fiendish clever thing.
"Besides," pondered Bull heavily, "I guess there's a whole lot of bright men that have seen you handle Diablo, but they couldn't make out what you did. They tried to ride Diablo and got their necks nearly broken. They were good riders, but I'm not. You see, Diablo's the first horse I've ever seen that could really carry me." He added apologetically, "I'm so heavy." No vanity, certainly.
"It would a-broke the bad luck, sor, to have let him took the Black." "It would have broken his bank, you mean, Mike." "Well, he'll break somewan's back here yet, an' I'm tellin' you that sthraight. They say a black cat's full av th! divil, but Diablo's ould Nick hisself, though I'm sayin'it was th' b'y Shandy's fault sp'ilin' him.
That hand was loosening now the rope which was burning into his neck loosening it, drawing it off. And now the bridle followed; and Diablo's mouth was free from the cruel taint of the steel. The head of the stallion turned great, soft eyes looked into the face of Bull Hunter and accepted him as a friend forever. Hal Dunbar, groggy from the shock of the fall, staggered toward them.
When the details were explained to him Mike declared, emphatically, that some one had got at the mare. Taking Dixon to one side, he said: "It's that divil on wheels, Shandy; ye can bet yer sweet loife on that. I've been layin' for that crook; he cut Diablo's bridle an' t'rew th' ould man; an' he done this job, too." "But how could he get at her?" queried the Trainer.
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