The Centaur cantered around two or three trees more and then, without saying a word, as he passed Sid, stretched out his arms, caught the boy, put him on his back and was off like a racer. No boy ever had such a ride before and I don’t know that any one ever will again.
No sooner had the Centaur struck the road than he broke into a gallop and went thundering along through the night as if a thousand witches or some other horrible creatures were chasing him. His hoofs rang on the hard ground and struck sparks of fire out of the stones along the way. On and on they flew, past houses and orchards and ponds over which a white mist lay like a soft night dress. They leaped the tall gates without so much as dropping a penny for the keeper who was fast asleep in the little house, and they rushed over bridges as if there were no notices about fast driving posted up at either end. Faster and faster they flew along until fences and trees and barns were all mixed up together and Sid couldn’t tell one from the other. He thought the Centaur couldn’t go any faster, but he was mistaken, for he broke into a dead run and then such going! It took Sid’s breath away. Every thing vanished and there wasn’t any thing left in the world but himself and the Centaur and the wind that was trying its best to blow him off. There wasn’t any noise either. It was just one tremendous rush. It was like the flight of an arrow that goes straight through the air from the moment it leaves the bow till the moment it strikes the mark and there’s hardly a breath between.
How long the ride was I don’t know for Sid never could tell, but after a time the Centaur began to slacken speed, broke into a gallop, then into a gentle trot and finally stopped short. His broad flanks were steaming and he was wet from hoof to hoof, but he did not seem to mind it.
Sid had been a little frightened at first, and you must admit that it was rather alarming to be picked up and carried off like the wind by a Centaur—but he was a brave boy and soon forgot every thing but the splendid ride he was taking. As soon as the Centaur stopped he slipped down and stood on the ground.
Although it was night the air was so soft and pure and the stars shone so brightly through it that he could see it was a strange country. There were hills every where but they were green and although it was wild it looked beautiful as far as he could see.
The Centaur stretched himself on the ground and Sid saw that although his face was very queer it was quite intelligent. He seemed to be waiting to rest himself. Sid wanted very much to talk with him but he wasn’t sure that he ought to and he didn’t know exactly what to say. There was so much of the horse about the Centaur that Sid couldn’t make up his mind whether he really was a horse or a man.
The Centaur paid no attention to the boy for a long time but finally he turned to him and said:
“Well, how did you like it?”
The voice was queer, there was no doubt about that. It made him think of a horse, but the words were human. The Centaur could speak good English, there was no doubt about that either.
“It was just splendid,” Sid answered. “What made you come for me?”