"Oh" said Charley," what a splendid fellow! I say, Harry, I'll go out
with _him."_
"You'd better not."
"Why not?"
"Why? just because if you do Mr. Grant will be down upon you, and
your father won't be very well pleased."
"Nonsense," cried Charley. "Father didn't say I wasn't to take him. I
don't think he'd care much. He's not afraid of my breaking my neck.
And then, Mr. Grant seemed to be only afraid of my being run off
with--not of his horse being hurt. Here goes for it!" In another
moment Charley had him saddled and bridled, and led him out into the
yard.
"Why, I declare, he's quite quiet; just like a lamb," said Harry, in
surprise.
"So he is," replied Charley. "He's a capital charger; and even if he
does bolt, he can't run five hundred miles at a stretch. If I turn
his head to the prairies, the Rocky Mountains are the first things
that will bring him up. So let him run if he likes, I don't care a
fig." And springing lightly into the saddle, he cantered out of the
yard, followed by his friend.
The young horse was a well-formed, showy animal, with a good deal of
bone--perhaps too much for elegance. He was of a beautiful dark
brown, and carried a high head and tail, with a high-stepping gait,
that gave him a noble appearance. As Charley cantered along at a
steady pace, he could discover no symptoms of the refractory spirit
which had been ascribed to him.
"Let us strike out straight for the horizon now," said Harry, after
they had galloped half-a-mile or so along the beaten track.
Pages:
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56