As long
and big as Diablo was, Sol was longer and bigger. Also, he was
higher, more powerful. He looked more a thing for action--speedier.
At a distance the honorable scars and lumps that marred his muscular
legs were not visible. He grazed aloof from the others, and did not
cavort nor prance; but when he lifted his head to whistle, how wild
he appeared, and proud and splendid! The dazzling whiteness of the
desert sun shone from his coat; he had the fire and spirit of the desert
in his noble head, its strength and power in his gigantic frame.
"Belding swears Sol never beat Diablo," Dick was saying.
"He believes it," replied Nell. "Dad is queer about that horse."
"But Laddy rode Sol once--made him beat Diablo. Jim saw the race."
Nell laughed. "I saw it, too. For that matter, even I have made
Sol put his nose before Dad's favorite."
"I'd like to have seen that. Nell, aren't you ever going to ride
with me?"
"Some day--when it's safe."
"Safe!"
"I--I mean when the raiders have left the border."
"Oh, I'm glad you mean that," said Dick, laughing. "Well, I've often
wondered how Belding ever came to give Blanco Sol to me."
"He was jealous. I think he wanted to get rid of Sol."
"No? Why, Nell, he'd give Laddy or Jim one of the whites any day."
"Would he? Not Devil or Queen or White Woman. Never in this
world! But Dad has lots of fast horses the boys could pick from.
Dick, I tell you Dad wants Blanco Sol to run himself out--lose his
speed on the desert.
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