youth had the frantic horse in a
firm grip. He seemed to know just how to handle frightened animals,
and by the time the two policemen had reached him, the beast, though
still restive, had quieted down.

"Good work, young fellow!" called one of the officers. "Whose horse
is it?"

"I don't know, constable," was the answer, given with a country twang
that caused several spectators to smile. "I jest seen him comin' and
I see he was headed for them people what's goin' to Europe, I expect.
I didn't want their voyage spoiled, so I jest jumped at his head."

"Well, you know how to do it, all right," said the second
"constable," as the young farmer had called the policemen.

"I ought to know how to handle horses," was the answer, as the youth
relinquished the reins to the officer. "I've been among 'em all my
life. I was brought up on a farm."

He looked it, but there was something in his simple, manly face, and
in the look of his honest blue eyes, that made one like him.

"Good work, all right!" repeated the first officer. "I'll take your
name, young fellow, for my report," and he drew out a notebook. "I'll
also want to find out to whom the horse belongs, but I s'pose the
truckman's license number will be a clue."

"He's mine," broke in a voice, as a drayman pushed his way through
the crowd. "Some boys got to fooling around him, and he started off.
No damage done, I hope."

"No," replied the policeman, "but you want to tie your animal after
this. He might have hurt someone--probably would have if it hadn't
been for this chap. What's your name?" he asked the young farmer.

"Sandy Apgar."

"And where do you live?"

"On Oak Farm."

"Never heard of the place," went on the officer, with a smile.

"Oh, that's the name of our farm. It's jest outside the town of
Beatonville, about forty miles back in Jersey."

"Oh, Jersey!" laughed the officer. "No wonder! Well, there's your
horse, truckman. And now I want your name."

"Can I go, or do I have to appear in court?" asked Sandy Apgar. "I
hope I don't, 'caused I'm in a hurry to git back to the farm. I've
got a passel of work to do there, with the weather coming on the way
it is.

"No, I guess you won't have to go to court," laughed the policeman.
"We're much obliged to you."

"And so am I," added the truckman. "I haven't got any money to give
you, because business is poor----"

"Oh, that's all right," said Sandy with a generous wave of his hand.
"I don't stop runaw