“Just happened along; nothing special in mind,” said Fuller.
“Glad to see you. This is my pal, Charlie Hunter.”
“I’ve heard a pile about you, Hunter,” said the newcomer, approaching with a cheerily extended hand.
He was stopped by a terrific snarl from the wolf, that made him jerk his hand back to his revolver.
“Devil is right!” gasped out Fuller, eying the bristling wolf dog in horror.
“Just a minute,” the big man said, grinning, “and I’ll send him out. Go talk to Diablo, boy. Look yonder!”
He went to the window and pointed out. The Ghost followed, and, having cast a snarling look over his shoulder to make sure that the other two men were at a safe distance behind him, he reared, and planting his forelegs on the window sill he looked out. Raised in this fashion, he was well nigh as tall as a man. The big hand of Hunter stroked the head of The Ghost while he talked.
“Go out to Diablo. He’s waiting for you; getting so he misses you, partner!”
The Ghost turned his head, flashed a glance up into the face of his master, and then made for the door. He went slinking close to the wall, giving the two men ample chance to look at his huge white fangs as he went. At the door he was transformed into a gray streak that whipped out of sight.
“Now look here,” called Pete. “This is worth watching!”
He led the way to the window, and, looking out, Fuller saw the great lobo clear the fence of the corral with a mighty bound and land in the middle of the inclosure. Instinctively Fuller cried out in horror, for in that corral, also, stood a black stallion, a mighty animal fully seventeen hands tall, it seemed to Fuller, and exquisitely limbed for speed and endurance in running. He thought to see the next leap of the lobo carry him at the throat of the stallion, and again he reached for his gun; but the giant beside him laid on his arm a grip that paralyzed the muscles.
“Easy,” he said. “They’re friends!”
And indeed the wolf dog, instead of springing again, turned slowly toward the stallion, who approached with pricking ears and lowered head. Before the startled eyes of Fuller the two big, beautiful animals, each a king of his kind, touched noses; and then The Ghost stretched himself at ease in the shade of Diablo.
Chapter X
Setting the Trap
Am I seeing things?” breathed Fuller, watching with fascinated eyes. “How come?”
“His work,” said little Pete Reeve, nodding to Bull Hunter, not without pride. “Nobody but Bull Hunter could of done that with a wolf. Though why he spent the time on him I can’t say.”
“Wolf?” echoed Bull Hunter with a sudden anger which surprised Fuller, who had heard much about the equable temper of the big man. “Wolf? Who says he’s a wolf? Look at that head! Is that a wolf’s head - really? Is that fur a wolf’s fur? And ain’t he got all of a dog’s ways? I tell you, he’s a real dog; just cast in the shape of a wolf, that’s all!”
Pete Reeve winked at the newcomer as much as to say that this was a sore topic with his companion.
“It took Bull a whole month of steady work - five or six hours a day - to teach The Ghost that he wasn’t to jump at Diablo every time he seen him.”
“The Ghost?” cried Fuller. “Is that The Ghost?”
“Right!”
Reeve enjoyed the thrill of this announcement.
“That’s him. The rascal snooped up to my fire one night. But how come he ain’t been shot by one of the ranchers around these parts? Last I heard they all hated him like poison, and then some.”
“They’ve tried to get him,” Reeve said, nodding, “but Bull here went down to the village and paid every claim he could find agin’ The Ghost, and after that he promised to break the heads of the first crew that tried to pot The Ghost near the cabin. The Montgomery boys didn’t think he meant it, and they come prowling up here. Luckily they missed The Ghost the first shot, and before they could get a second bead on him, Bull was at ‘em.”
Reeve laughed at the exciting memory.
“They was a ten-second argument. After that Bull picked up one of ‘em under each arm and brought ‘em in here, and we patched ‘em up and sent ‘em home ag’in.”
“And the Montgomery boys is big men,” said Fuller thoughtfully, eying the giant with new interest.
“They are,” said Pete quietly.
To escape from this embarrassing talk Bull found some excuse which brought him outside the cabin.
“Don’t like to be talked about,” said Pete, chuckling. “Bashful as a girl, the big fellow is. He’s all gold, Fuller.”
Then his face straightened as he met the eye of Fuller quizzically turned upon him.
“Now, Bud, what’s up? I know you ain’t just happened by here. You never just happen by any place. What’s the game?”
Fuller was delighted to have the subject broached so frankly.
“The biggest, easiest game you ever was led to,” he said ingratiatingly. Then he saw that Reeve was nodding with understanding rather than enthusiasm.
“I knew it was something like that. Ain’t you heard the news, Bud?”
“What news?”
“I’ve gone straight.”
“No!” cried Bud, admirably affecting surprise.
“It’s true. But Bull is enough to turn any man straight. Funny thing if he couldn’t do it. Gent that can make a wolf into a law-abiding dog ought to be able to teach a growed-up man some sense.”
“You didn’t act like you was particular fond of that law-abiding dog,” said Bud, artfully refraining from making a direct attack on the little man’s conscience.
“Didn’t I? You mean when he was bringing me that handkerchief? Well, I admit I ain’t. But it’s Bull’s idea that The Ghost has got to learn to know me, and I’ve got to go through an hour of torment every day. Yesterday Bull made me pat his head!”
Pete wiped his brow, which glistened with perspiration at the memory.
“Had to pat the head of that man-killing devil, with him crouching and snarling and begging Bull to give him a chance to go at my throat! Well, this day’s work with The Ghost is over. Hadn’t been for you coming, Bull would of kept me at it another half hour!” He smiled gratefully at Fuller. “To go back to your proposition, Bud, I ain’t interested. Mighty good of you to come to me, but Sandy Lawson is in these parts, and Sandy could act side kicker to you as well as any man.”
“Him? Sandy Lawson? I’m man enough to do anything Sandy can do. I don’t take many partners, and when I do I want a man!”
Reeve would have been more than human had he not melted a little before this compliment. He smiled and shook his head.
“You see,” explained Bud, “it’s got to do with cracking a safe. I’m not a bit of good with the soup - and you’re a wonder at that game. I need you bad, Pete.”
Pete grew more sober than ever.
“What’s in the back of your head, Bud?” he asked sharply, at length. “You know me, and I know you. But we’ve never pulled a job together before. Why bother me? I take it for a compliment, but why not go back to one of your old partners?”
The making or the breaking of his game was before Bud, and he rose to the occasion with a master stroke. He got up from the chair and turned coldly on Pete.
“If I ain’t good enough for you,” he said sternly, “I guess that’s about all the talking we need do. I can get along without you, I guess.”
“Wait a minute,” said Reeve. “Don’t get hot in a minute. I’m off any safe-busting, or any other business. But I don’t want you to go away misunderstanding me.”
“I ain’t misunderstanding you, I hope,” said Bud. “But listen to me, Pete. Gorgie is dead; he was my old pal. And Lammer is in the jug. So I’m left alone. That’s why I’ve come to you.”