e
to save our wagon and our horse. If they had been burned up we would
have been next door to beggars!"

"By the way, where is Billy?" cried Matt. "I don't see him anywhere
around."

"I'm sure I don't know."

"Stay here with the wagon and I'll hunt him up," replied Matt; and he
started off without further delay.

The alleyway had now become so choked up with vehicles, horses, and
people that it was with great difficulty that he fought his way
through the dense mass out to the next street. Once here, he looked
up and down for the horse, but could see nothing of him.

"Did you see anything of a brown and white horse around here?" he
asked of a stable-hand standing near.

"Yes; just saw him gallop up the street," was the reply. "You had
better jump on a horse-car if you want to catch him."

"You saw him run clean out of sight, then?"

"Yes; he must be halfway up to Harlem by this time."

Matt waited to hear no more, but boarded the first horse-car which
came along bound north. He took a position on the front platform, and
as they moved along kept his eyes open for a sight of the animal in
which he owned a half-interest.

Ten blocks had been passed, and the boy was beginning to grow anxious,
when, chancing to look over the fence of a small yard adjoining a
blacksmith shop, he saw a horse standing tied to a post. A second look
convinced him that it was Billy, and he at once leaped from the moving
car and hurried toward the place.

"Well, sir, what can I do for you?" asked the blacksmith, a tall,
heavy-set fellow, as he left his bellows, where he had been blowing up
the fire.

"I'll take my horse, please," returned Matt.

"Your horse? Which horse is that?"

"The runaway you just caught."

"I haven't any runaway," returned the blacksmith boldly.

"What?" cried the boy in amazement. "Why, of course you have. He is
tied to the post in the yard."

"No runaway here."

"I mean the brown and white horse."

"That horse was just left here to be shod."

For the moment Matt was too dumfounded to speak.

"To be shod?" he said at last. "Who left him here?"

"A colored man. I don't know his name."

"But he is my horse, and he doesn't need shoeing."

"I don't know anything about that," returned the blacksmith darkly.
"He was left here and that's all I know about it. You'll have to hunt
up the colored man, and fix it up with him if you want the horse."

CHAPTER X.

ON THE ROAD AT LAST.

Had the b