They ran as free as racing thunderclouds before the wind upon the hills. Sound of their hooves (like thunder) filled these canyons. Oh, the grace of them! the flowingm swiftness! motion of their manesm and tails! their smoky flight!m I bring them back again in all their fleetness, give them their freedom in the wind, and follow in my imagination till they vanish down some sidestepping pasture, suddenly as into swirls of mist. No wisp remains. Whenever clouds run dark upon the mesa and thunder ricochets along these canyons, bfore the coming storm has struck, a moment flashes in to say they have returned.