He waved toward the direction in which the posse had ridden and smiled apologetically at her. She thought at first that there must be hidden sarcasm in the speech, but apparently he was as downright as the broad day. So, far from expecting gratitude, he was actually beginning to ask pardon for what he had done.
”Do you dare stay one minute longer?” she asked suddenly.
“Ten minutes, if you will let me.”
“They may come back.”
“Perhaps.”
She smiled with pleasure at his calmness. “You’re a rare fellow, Charlie Hunter,” she told him. “How long have you ridden this trail?”
“Three days.”
“Three days, to bring me this? There isn’t another person like you in the world! I’ll never forget it.”
He shook his head, unhappy at this outburst of eulogy. “There is one very strange thing today,” he said to change the subject. “First I come, and twenty men take guns and horses and ride out to meet me. I come again, and there is only one girl without a weapon. You are strange people in this place, Mary Hood!”
She had been Mary all her life, and there was something novel and very pleasant in the use of both names together. It endowed her, it seemed, with a new and more unique personality.
“Then we should get along very well,” she replied with a smile, “for you are certainly strange among men, Charlie Hunter.”
“Yes,” he said judicially, “I think I could teach you to like me. I have taught a horse and a wild dog, you see.”
She laughed at the comparison. “A wild horse and a wild dog?”
“The dog left me because of another man. But Diablo, you see, is my friend.”
“And gentle?”
“As a lamb.”
She stretched out her hand; the black stallion sprang far away.
“Gentle!” she exclaimed.
“He has to be introduced,” explained Bull. “Now come with me.”
He went to Diablo and laid a hand on his neck. The black acknowledged the caress with a quick pricking of his ears and then flattened them again and regarded the timid approach of the girl with angry eyes.
“He’s ready to jump at me!” she declared and stopped.
“He will not. Come slowly - steady, Diablo! and with your hand out. Touch his nose. If you do that once, he’ll remember you, I think.”
“Unless he chooses to bite my hand off.”
“He will not stir while I talk to him. You see?”
He began to talk smoothly and softly, and the ears of the stallion flickered and came forward, even though Mary began to come close again. Between fear and anger at her coming and pleasure at the soft voice of the master, he trembled from head to foot.
Mary Hood was very much afraid, yet she came slowly up until her outstretched hand touched the nose of the stallion. He snorted and winced like a wild horse, when the weight of a man first settles on his back, but though his lips twitched, he made no effort to snap.
“Talk to him,” said Bull.
Then she talked, as only those who love horses know how. Bull Hunter left the side of the stallion, and Diablo remained motionless, sniffing the hand of the girl.
“And is this the way you always introduce people to him?” she asked when she turned at last to the big man.
“You are the first; perhaps you are the last. It has made me always happy to be the only one who can go near Diablo, but to-day, I don’t know why, it seems to me that I am happier to share him with some one. See, he is following you!”
“No, he is going to you. You’re right! You’re right! He is coming after me!” She turned and patted the beautiful head of Diablo in delight. “You are a wizard with horses. A true wizard!” she assured him.
“I love them,” said Bull Hunter. “That is all. Besides” He stopped and raised his head. The wind was freshening out of the north, and now it carried to them the sound of a neigh, then the beat of hoofs, far, far away, but distinguishable in the thin mountain air. ”They are coming back,” said Bull Hunter sadly, “and I must go.”
The girl turned angrily toward the approaching sound. Then she touched the arm of Bull Hunter. “You must go, my friend. They have no right to hunt you, but people do not stand on right and wrong on this ranch. I know you have done nothing wrong. You fought my father fairly, and it was his own fault that the fight came at all. I’ve heard of it all! But now you must go quickly! I shall never forget you and Diablo, but go now!”
He nodded, admitting the gloomy necessity, and yet he still lingered, hunting for words to fit an idea which had just come to him. “There is only one thing more,” he said. “I shall miss the locket, Mary Hood, more than you can understand.”
“What do you mean?”
“There are lonely times in the mountains, you see. There are times so lonely that a picture is just like another person. It is company. You understand?”
There was no mystery in it. A child would have know. His worship of her was in his eyes, and the girl flushed, pitying him, and excited and proud of the tribute. “Of all the strange men who have ever lived,” she said, “you are the strangest. You have ridden three days and risked being shot in order to ask me if you can keep a picture?”
“In order to give you the picture and ask it back from your hands,” he corrected her. “That is very different. I can find anybody’s picture and keep it, but that gives me no right. You see, that painter was very cunning. He put a smile on your face that might be because you were very happy with a friend, or riding a horse, or dreaming, and if you give me the picture, Mary Hood, when I look at it I shall feel that you may at that very moment be thinking of me. That is simple, but it means a great deal to me. Will you let me have it?”
She dropped it into his hand. “You have earned it a thousand times over, and it makes me proud to have you want it.” The outburst of frankness left her afraid that she had said too much. But Bull Hunter was too busy examining the locket and putting it away to notice her confusion.
“It is not to be a gift,” he declared. “You may want something done, somewhere, somehow. Let me do it in exchange for this.”
She nodded, smilingly excited again; and all the time she wondered that this big, simple fellow could amuse her so much and give her a peculiar uplifted feeling. It was a novel idea, this purchase by service. It was a scheme worthy of the old days of knight-errantry, and naturally she thought of jousts and battles. Then the inspiration struck her that was to give her many a headache before all was done.
“Charlie Hunter,” she said, “if you want to earn the locket find the man who stole it and turn him over to the law. Would you do as much as that?”
As she turned, the slant sun of the young morning glinted in her eyes, blinding her, so that she did not see the sudden change in his expression.
“Mary Hood,” he answered after a little pause, “I’ve sat by the camp fire with that man, and I’ve eaten his bacon and bread.”
The disappointment made her sigh.
“But if you want him taken”
“I do!”
“Then,” said Bull Hunter, “I’ll do my best. Good-by. Perhaps I shall see you again!”
He was on his horse before she was able to answer: “But of course I’ll see you again!”
“Who knows?” answered Charlie Hunter from the back of Diablo. “There are always two ways a man trail may end.”
Leaving her breathless, he touched the flank of Diablo with his heel, and the great black swept him down the terraces.
Chapter XVII
The Ghost’s Progress