't the junkman," he said. "I'm just havin' a ride!"

"We have some old papers for you," called the cook.

Mun Bun didn't know just what it all meant, but he saw the cook waving
her hand at him, and he heard her calling, though he could not make out
all the words, because the wagon rattled so. But Mun Bun had an idea.

"I guess maybe she wants a ride," he said. "She likes to ride same as I
do. I'll give her a ride with me."

He pulled on the reins, and called:

"Whoa!"

But either Mun Bun did not pull hard enough, or he did not call loudly
enough, for the horse did not stop. Perhaps it thought that if it did
stop it would be too hard work to start again, so it kept on going.

"Stop! Stop!" cried the cook. "We have some papers to sell you!"

"Whoa!" called Mun Bun again. But the horse did not stop.

Just then a policeman came down the street. He saw Mun Bun on the seat
of the wagon, and he saw the cook waving at him and calling. And the
policeman needed to take only one look to make him feel sure that Mun
Bun was not the junkman's little boy driving the wagon. Mun Bun was not
dressed as a junkman's little boy would probably be dressed.

"That's funny," said the policeman to himself. "I must see about this."
He walked toward the wagon. By this time the cook had come out on the
sidewalk. She knew the policeman.

"Stop him!" she called, pointing to the wagon. "Stop that junkman!"

"That isn't a junkman," said the officer.

"Well, stop that junk boy then, Mr. Mulligan," begged the cook, smiling
at the policeman.

"Nor yet it isn't a junk boy," said the officer. "He doesn't belong on
that wagon."

"Do you mean to say he stole it?" asked the cook. "Mrs. Rynsler has some
junk she wants to get out of the cellar, and----"

"This boy'll never take it," said Mr. Mulligan, the policeman. "In the
first place he's too little, and in the second place he isn't a junk
boy. I must see about this," and, hurrying along for a little distance,
then walking out to the curb, he reached out his hand and stopped the
horse. It was not hard work. The bony horse was ready to stop almost
any time.

"Whoa!" said the policeman.

"Whoa!" echoed Mun Bun, and he smiled at the officer.

"Where are you going?" asked Mr. Mulligan.

"I'm having a ride," said Mun Bun. "The junkman is at my Aunt Jo's
house, and I got up on the seat and I'm having a ride!"

"Land love us! And look at the size of him!" murmured the cook, who had
followed