"No, and I don't want to. Ma had a brother once, and he met up with Pete Reeve."
A tragedy was inferred in that oblique reference. Bull decided that this was a conversational topic on which he must remain silent, and yet he yearned to speak of the little withered catlike fellow with the wise brain who had done so much for him.
"When I'm big enough," mused the boy with a quiet savagery, "maybe I'll meet up with Pete Reeve."
Bull switched the talk to a more comfortable topic. "But how'd you make a start with that man-eating Diablo?"
Tod studied, the question. "I got a way with hosses, you see," he began modestly.
He played two brown fingers in his mouth and sent out a shrilling whistle that was answered immediately by a whinny, and a little chestnut gelding, sun-faded to a sand color ne
