"Will you let me have him?" Ladd repeated, almost curtly.
"Certainly, Laddy."
A smile momentarily chased the dark cold gloom that had set upon
the ranger's lean face.
"Shore I appreciate it, Dick. I know how you care for that hoss.
I guess mebbe Charlie Ladd has loved a hoss! An' one not so
good as Sol. I was only tryin' your nerve, Dick, askin' you without
tellin' my plan. Sol won't get a scratch, you can gamble on that!
I'll ride him down into the valley an' pull the greasers out in the
open. They've got short-ranged carbines. They can't keep out of
range of the .405, an' I'll be takin' the dust of their lead. Sabe,
senor?"
"Laddy! You'll run Sol away from the raiders when they chase you?
Run him after them when they try to get away?"
"Shore. I'll run all the time. They can't gain on Sol, an' he'll
run them down when I want. Can you beat it?"
"No. It's great!...But suppose a raider comes out on Blanco
Diablo?"
"I reckon that's the one weak place in my plan. I'm figgerin'
they'll never think of that till it's too late. But if they do,
well, Sol can outrun Diablo. An' I can always kill the white
devil!"
Ladd's strange hate of the horse showed in the passion of his
last words, in his hardening jaw and grim set lips.
Gale's hand went swiftly to the ranger's shoulder.
"Laddy. Don't kill Diablo unless it's to save your life."
"All right. But, by God, if I get a chance I'll make Blanco Sol
run him off his legs!"
He spoke no more and set about changing the length of Sol's
stirrups.
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