street light blinded him, as it must have the
horses, as the equipage turned into the darker side street.

But Hiram saw their peril. He sprang into the street with a cry of
warning. And he was lucky enough to seize the nigh horse by the bridle
and pull both the high-steppers around.

There was an excavation--an opening for a water-main--in this street.
The workmen had either neglected to leave a red lantern, or malicious
boys had stolen it.

Another moment and the horses would have been in this excavation and
even now the carriage swayed. One forward wheel went over the edge of
the hole, and for the minute it was doubtful whether Hiram had saved the
occupants of the carriage by his quick action, or had accelerated the
catastrophe.

CHAPTER IV. THE LOST CARD

Had Hiram Strong not been a muscular youth for his age, and sturdy
withal, the excited horses would have broken away from him and the
carriage would certainly have gone into the ditch.

But he had a grip on the bridle reins now that could not be broken,
although the horses plunged and struck fire from the stones of the
street with their shoes. He dragged them forward, the carriage pitched
and rolled for a moment, and then stood upright again, squarely on its
four wheels.

"All right, lad! I've got 'em!" exclaimed the gentleman in the carriage.

He had a hearty, husky sort of voice--a voice that came from deep down
in his chest and was more than a little hoarse. But there was no quiver
of excitement in it. Indeed, he who had been in peril was much less
disturbed by the incident than was Hiram himself.

Nor had the girl screamed, or otherwise voiced her terror. Now Hiram
heard her say, as he stepped back from the plunging horses:

"That is a good boy, Daddy. Speak to him again."

The man in gray laughed. He was now holding in the frightened team with
one firm hand while he fumbled in the pocket of his big coat with the
other.

"He certainly has got some muscle, that lad," announced the gentleman.
"Here, son, where can I find you when I'm in town again?"

"I work at Dwight's Emporium," replied Hiram, rather diffidently.

"All right. Thanks. Here's my card. You're the kind of a boy I like.
I'll surely look you up."

He held out the bit of pasteboard to Hiram; but as the youth stepped
nearer to reach it, the impatient horses sprang forward and the carriage
rolled swiftly by him.

The card flipped from the man's fingers. Hiram grabbed for it, but