Bull Hunter | Page 2

gave advice. "You got a
pretty bad taproot under yonder. Better chop out a bigger hole, boys.
But, say, what you clearing this here land for? Ain't no good for
nothing, is it?" She looked around her. Here and there the clearing
around the shanty ate raggedly into the forest, but still the plowed land
was chopped up with a jutting of boulders.

"Sure it ain't no good for nothing," said Joe. "It's just the old man's
idea."
He jerked a grimy thumb over his shoulder to indicate the controlling
and absent power of the old man, somewhere in the woods.
"Sure makes him glum when we ain't working. If they ain't nothing
worthwhile to do he always sets us to grubbing up roots; and if we ain't
diggin' up roots, we got to get out old 'Maggie' mare and try to plow.
Plow in rocks like them! Nobody but Bull can do it."
"I didn't know Bull could do nothing," said the girl with interest.
"Aw, he's a fool, right enough," said Harry, "but he just has a sort of
head for knowing where the rocks are under the ground, and somehow
he seems to make old Maggie hoss know where they lie, too. Outside
of that he sure ain't no good. Everybody knows that."
"Kind of too bad he ain't got no brains," said the girl. "All his strength
is in his back, and none is in his head, my dad says. If he had some part
of sense he'd be a powerful good hand."
"Sure would be," agreed Harry. "But he ain't no good now. Give him an
ax maybe, and he hits one or two wallopin' licks with it and then stands
and rests on the handle and starts to dreaming like a fool. Same way
with everything. But, say, Joe, maybe he could start this stump out of
the hole."
"But I seen you both try to get the stump up," said the girl in wonder.
"Get Bull mad and he can lift a pile," Joe assured her. "Go find him,
Harry."
Harry obediently shouted, "Bull! Oh, Bull!"
There was no answer.
"Most like he's reading," observed Joe. "He don't never hear nothing
then. Go look for him, Harry."

Big Harry strode to the door of the hut.
"How come he understands books?" said the girl. "I couldn't never
make nothing out of 'em."
"Me neither," agreed Joe in sympathy. "But maybe Bull don't
understand. He just likes to read because he can sit still and do it. Never
was a lazier gent than Bull."
Harry turned at the door of the shack. "Yep, reading," he announced
with disgust. He cupped his hands over his mouth and bellowed
through the doorway, "Hey!"
There was a startled grunt within, a deep, heavy voice and a thick
articulation. Presently a huge man came into the doorway and leaned
there, his figure filling it. There was nothing freakish about his build.
He was simply over-normal in bulk, from the big head to the heavy feet.
He was no more than a youth in age, but the great size and the
bewildered puckering of his forehead made him seem older. The book
was still in his hand.
"Hey," returned Harry, "we didn't call you out here to read to us. Leave
the book behind!"
Bull looked down at the book in his hand, seemed to waken from a
trance, then, with a muffled sound of apology, dropped the book behind
him.
"Come here!"
He slumped out from the house. His gait was like his body, his stride
large and loose. The lack of nervous energy which kept his mind from a
high tension was shown again in the heavy fall of his feet and the
forward slump of his head. His hands dangled aimlessly at his sides, as
though in need of occupation. A ragged thatch of blond hair covered his
head and it was sunburned to straw color at the edges.
His costume was equally rough. He wore no belt, but one strap, from

his right hip, crossed behind his back, over the bulging muscles of his
shoulder to the front of his left hip. The trousers, which this simple
brace supported, were patched overalls, frayed to loose threads halfway
down the calf where they were met by the tops of immense cowhide
boots. As for the shirt, the sleeves were inches too short, and the
unbuttoned cuffs flapped around the burly forearms. If it had been
fastened together at the throat he would have choked. He seemed, in a
word, to be bulging out of his clothes. One expected a mighty rending
if he made a strong effort.
This bulk of a man slouched forward with steps both huge and hesitant,
pausing between them. When he saw the girl he