"How much do you want for him?"
"One hundred and fifty dollars. He's a fine buffalo runner. He'll take you over the ground in good shape. Get up and try him."
Donald removed the saddle from his own horse and put it on the buffalo runner. The animal stood quietly until the stranger sprang into the saddle, when, as if shot from a gun, he made a sudden bound and darted off.
Out and away over the prairie he flew at a terrific rate, rider and horse apparently bent on some errand of life and death.
Onward, past bluff and coulee, they ran, the horse snorting and galloping as if in hot chase after buffalo. His rider tried to stop him, clinging to the saddle lest he should buck him off, pulling at the bridle, but all in vain. The more he pulled the faster went the horse. There was fire in his eye; the water no longer coursed down his face. He held his head erect, and the old dreamy-looking animal was transformed into a wild, daring creature, bold and free as wolves on the prairie, and exultant in his strength and speed.
The perspiration streamed down Donald's face, and it was not until many miles had been covered that the buffalo-runner slackened his speed or appeared to think he had done his duty.
At last he gradually eased his pace, and no doubt in his mind's eye his rider had killed some buffalo, and a good day's work had been done into the bargain. Fortunately Donald did not turn the horse's head homeward, or he might have had a repetition of the same wild ride, from which he might not have escaped so well. Some hours afterwards Jim overtook him, and was glad to find both horse and rider safe.
"Well, you had a hard ride."
"Yes, I would not care for another like it to-day," replied Donald.
"That's always like him. Every time I've tried to sell him he's cut up a trick like that. I don't know what gets into his head. Ye see, he seems to think he's always chasing buffalo, and away he goes."