horse on the face, and it
reared, and for a second, while the crowd looked away in horror, lunged
above the helpless old man. Then, losing balance, the great white horse
fell upon the Doctor; but as the hoofs grazed his face, Kenyon Adams had
the old man round the waist and flung him aside. But Kenyon went down
under the horse. Calvin turned his horse; some one picked up the
fainting youth, and he was beside Mrs. Nesbit in the car a moment later,
a limp, unconscious thing. Grant and Laura ran to the car. Dr. Nesbit
stood dazed and impotent--an old man whose glory was of yesterday--a
weak old man, scorned and helpless. He turned away trembling with a
nervous palsy, and when he reached the side of the machine, his
daughter, trying to hide her manacled hand, kissed him and said
soothingly:

"It's all right, father--young Joe's vexed at something I said down in
the Valley; he'll get over it in an hour. Then I'll come home."

"And," gasped Mrs. Nesbit, "he--that whippersnapper," she gulped,
"dared--to lay hands on you; to--"

Laura shook her head, to stop her mother from speaking of the
handcuff,--"to make you walk through Market Street--while," but she
could get no further. The crowd surrounded them. And in the midst of the
jostling and milling, the Doctor's instinct rose stronger than his rage.
He was fumbling for his medicine case, and trying to find something for
Kenyon. The old hands were at the young pulse, and he said unsteadily:

"He'll be around in a few minutes."

Some one in the crowd offered a big automobile. The Doctor got in, waved
to his daughter, and followed Mrs. Nesbit up the hill.

"You young upstart," he cried, shaking his fist at Calvin as the car
turned around, "I'll be down in ten minutes and see to you!" The provost
marshal turned his white steed and began gathering up his procession and
his prisoners. But the spell was broken. The mind of the crowd took in
an idea. It was that a shameful thing was happening to a woman. So it
hissed young Joe Calvin. Such is the gratitude of republics.

In the court house, the provost marshal, sitting behind an imposing
desk, decided that he would hold Mrs. Van Dorn under $100 bond to keep
the peace and release her upon her own recognizance.

"Well," she replied, "Little Joe, I'll sign no peace bond, and if it
wasn't for my parents--I'd make you lock me up."

Her hand was free as she spoke. "As it is--I'm going back to South
Harvey. I'll be there until this