A few minutes, however,
brought them out, and Mr Grant and Mr Kennedy, who had kept close to
each other during the run, pulled up for a moment on the summit of a
ridge to breathe their panting steeds.

"What can that be?" exclaimed the former, pointing with his whip to a
distant object which was moving rapidly over the plain.

"Eh! what--where?" said Mr Kennedy, shading his eyes with his hand, and
peering in the direction indicated. "Why, that's another wolf, isn't
it? No; it runs too fast for that."

"Strange," said his friend; "what _can_ it be?"

"If I hadn't seen every beast in the country," remarked Mr Kennedy,
"and didn't know that there are no such animals north of the equator, I
should say it was a mad dromedary mounted by a ring-tailed roarer."

"It can't be, surely--not possible!" exclaimed Mr Grant. "It's not
Charley on the new horse!"

Mr Grant said this with an air of vexation, that annoyed his friend a
little. He would not have much minded Charley's taking a horse without
leave, no matter how wild it might be; but he did not at all relish the
idea of making an apology for his son's misconduct, and for the moment
did not exactly know what to say. As usual in such a dilemma, the old
man took refuge in a towering passion, gave his steed a sharp cut with
the whip, and galloped forward to meet the delinquent.

We are not acquainted with the general appearance of a "ring-tailed
roarer;" in fact, we have grave doubts as to whether such an animal
exists at all; but if it does, and is particularly wild, dishevelled,
and fierce in deportment, there is no doubt whatever that when Mr
Kennedy applied the name to his hopeful son, the application was
singularly powerful and appropriate.

Charley had had a long run since we last saw him. After describing a
wide curve, in which his charger displayed a surprising aptitude for
picking out the ground that was least covered with snow, he headed
straight for the fort again at the same pace at which he had started.
At first Charley tried every possible method to check him, but in vain;
so he gave it up, resolving to enjoy the race, since he could not
prevent it. The young horse seemed to be made of lightning, with bones
and muscles of brass, for he bounded untiringly forward for miles,
tossing his head and snorting in his wild career. But Charley was a
good horseman, and did not mind _that_ much, being quite satisfied that
the horse _was_ a horse, and not a spir