Dad is just jealous for Diablo."
"Maybe. He surely has strange passion for horses. I think I
understand better than I used to. I owned a couple of racers
once. They were just animals to me, I guess. But Blanco Sol!"
"Do you love him?" asked Nell; and now a warm, blue flash of eyes
swept his face.
"Do I? Well, rather."
"I'm glad. Sol has been finer, a better horse since you
owned him. He loves you, Dick. He's always watching for you.
See him raise his head. That's for you. I know as much about
horses as Dad or Laddy any day. Sol always hated Diablo, and
he never had much use for Dad."
Dick looked up at her.
"It'll be--be pretty hard to leave Sol--when I go away."
Nell sat perfectly still.
"Go away?" she asked, presently, with just the faintest tremor in
her voice.
"Yes. Sometimes when I get blue--as I am to-day--I think I'll go.
But, in sober truth, Nell, it's not likely that I'll spend all my
life here."
There was no answer to this. Dick put his hand softly over hers;
and, despite her half-hearted struggle to free it, he held on.
"Nell!"
Her color fled. He saw her lips part. Then a heavy step on the
gravel, a cheerful, complaining voice interrupted him, and made
him release Nell and draw back. Belding strode into view round
the adobe shed.
"Hey, Dick, that darned Yaqui Indian can't be driven or hired or
coaxed to leave Forlorn River. He's well enough to travel. I
offered him horse, gun, blanket, grub.
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