Then he heard the rapid, heavy pound of hoofs, and again
the piercing whistle.
"Blanco Diablo!" he cried, huskily.
He turned to see a huge white horse come thundering into the yard.
A wild, gaunt, terrible horse; indeed, the loved Blanco Diablo.
A bronzed, long-haired Indian bestrode him. More white horses
galloped into the yard, pounded to a halt, whistling home. Belding
saw a slim shadow of a girl who seemed all great black eyes.
Under the trees flashed Blanco Sol, as dazzling white, as beautiful
as if he had never been lost in the desert. He slid to a halt, then
plunged and stamped. His rider leaped, throwing the bridle. Belding
saw a powerful, spare, ragged man, with dark, gaunt face and eyes
of flame.
Then Nell came running from the house, her golden hair flying, her
hands outstretched, her face wonderful.
"Dick! Dick! Oh-h-h, Dick!" she cried. Her voice seemed to quiver
in Belding's heart.
Belding's eyes began to blur. He was not sure he saw clearly.
Whose face was this now close before him--a long thin, shrunken
face, haggard, tragic in its semblance of torture, almost of
death? But the eyes were keen and kind. Belding thought wildly
that they proved he was not dreaming.
"I shore am glad to see you all," said a well-remembered voice
in a slow, cool drawl.
XVIII
REALITY AGAINST DREAMS
LADD, Lash, Thorne, Mercedes, they were all held tight in Belding's
arms. Then he ran to Blanco Diablo.
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