Bull Hunter | Page 4

He lifted his head, but not his eyes. Those eyes studied the impatient
feet of the girl's mustang; he waited for another stroke of wit that would
bring forth a fresh shower of laughter at his expense.
"Bull, you're mighty big and strong. About the biggest and strongest
man I ever seen!"
Was this a new and subtle form of mockery? He waited dully.
"I seen Harry and Joe both try to pull up that root, and they couldn't so
much as budge it. But I bet you could do it all alone, Bull! You just try!
I bet you could!"
It amazed him. He lifted his eyes at length; his face suffused with a

flush; his big, cloudy eyes were glistening with moisture.
"D'you mean that?" he asked huskily.
For this terrible, clear-eyed creature, this mocking mind, this alert,
cruel wit was actually speaking words of confidence. A great, dim joy
welled up in the heart of Bull Hunter. He shook the forelock out of his
eyes.
"You just try, will you, Bull?"
"I'll try!"
He bowed. Again his thick fingers sought for a grip, found places,
worked down through the soft dirt and the pulpy bark to solid wood,
and then he began to lift. It was a gradual process. His knees gave,
sagging under the strain from the arms. Then the back began to grow
rigid, and the legs in turn grew stiff, as every muscle fell into play. The
shoulders pushed forward and down. The forearms, revealed by the
short sleeves, showed a bewildering tangle of corded muscle, and, at
the wrists, the tendons sprang out as distinct and white as the new
strings of a violin.
The three spectators were undergoing a change. The suppressed grins
of the two brothers faded. They glanced at the girl to see if she were not
laughing at the results of her words to big Bull, but the girl was staring.
She had set that mighty power to work, and she was amazed by the
thing she saw. And they, looking back at Bull, were amazed in turn.
They had seen him lift great logs, wrench boulders from the earth. But
always it had been a proverb within the Campbell family that Bull
would make only one attempt and, failing in the first effort, would try
no more. They had never seen the mysterious resources of his strength
called upon.
Now they watched first the settling and then the expansion of the body
of their big cousin. His shoulders began to tremble; they heard deep,
harsh panting like the breathing of a horse as it tugs a ponderous load
up a hill, and still he had not reached the limit of his power. He seemed

to grow into the soil, and his feet ground deeper into the soft dirt, and
ever there was something in him remaining to be tapped. It seemed to
the brothers to be merely vast, unexplored recesses of muscle, but even
then it was a prodigious thing to watch the strain on the stump increase
moment by moment. That something of the spirit was being called
upon to aid in the work was quite beyond their comprehension.
There was something like a groan from Bull--a queer, animal sound
that made all three spectators shiver where they stood. For it showed
that the limit of that apparently inexhaustible strength had been reached
and that now the anguish of last effort was going into the work. They
saw the head bowed lower; the shoulders were now bunching and
swelling up on either side.
Then came a faint rending sound, like cloth slowly torn. It was
answered by something strangely like a snarl from the laborer.
Something jerked through his body as though a whip had been flicked
across his back. With a great rending and a loud snap the big stump
came up. A little shower of dirt spouted up with the parting of the
taproot. The trunk was flung high, but not out of the hands of Bull
Hunter. He whirled it around his head, laughing. There was a ring and
clearness in that laughter that they had never heard before. He dashed
the stump on the ground.
"It's out!" exclaimed Bull. "Look there!"
He strode upon them. As he straightened up he became huger than ever.
They shrank from him--from the veins which still bulged on his
forehead and from the sweat and pallor of that vast effort. The very
mustang winced from this mountain of a man who came with a long,
sweeping, springing stride. On his face was a strange joy as of the
explorer who tops the mountains and sees the beauty of the promised
land beneath him. He held out his hand.
"Lady, I got to thank you. You--taught me how!"
But she