canter past in the soft bridle path on the other side of
the roadway. But then, when you are on the force you must do your duty.

One afternoon as Skipper was standing post like this he caught a new
note that rose above the hum of the park traffic. It was the quick,
nervous beat of hoofs which rang sharply on the hard macadam. There were
screams, too. It was a runaway. Skipper knew this even before he saw the
bell-like nostrils, the straining eyes, and the foam-flecked lips of
the horse, or the scared man in the carriage behind. It was a case of
broken rein.

How the sight made Skipper's blood tingle! Wouldn't he just like to show
that crazy roan what real running was! But what was Reddy going to do?
He felt him gather up the reins. He felt his knees tighten. What! Yes,
it must be so. Reddy was actually going to try a brush with the runaway.
What fun!

Skipper pranced out into the roadway and gathered himself for the sport.
Before he could get into full swing, however, the roan had shot past
with a snort of challenge which could not be misunderstood.

"Oho! You will, eh?" thought Skipper. "Well now, we'll see about that."

Ah, a free rein! That is--almost free. And a touch of the spurs! No need
for that, Reddy. How the carriages scatter! Skipper caught hasty
glimpses of smart hackneys drawn up trembling by the roadside, of women
who tumbled from bicycles into the bushes, and of men who ran and
shouted and waved their hats.

"Just as though that little roan wasn't scared enough already," thought
Skipper.

But she did run well; Skipper had to admit that. She had a lead of fifty
yards before he could strike his best gait. Then for a few moments he
could not seem to gain an inch. But the mare was blowing herself and
Skipper was taking it coolly. He was putting the pent-up energy of weeks
into his strides. Once he saw he was overhauling her he steadied to the
work.

Just as Skipper was about to forge ahead, Reddy did a queer thing. With
his right hand he grabbed the roan with a nose-pinch grip, and with the
left he pulled in on the reins. It was a great disappointment to
Skipper, for he had counted on showing the roan his heels. Skipper knew,
after two or three experiences of this kind, that this was the usual
thing.

Those were glorious runs, though. Skipper wished they would come more
often. Sometimes there would be two and even three in a day. Then a
fortnight or so would pass without a single runaway on Skippe