was no quiver of excitement in it. Indeed, he who had been in
peril was much less disturbed by the incident than was Hiram
himself.

Nor had the girl screamed, or otherwise voiced her terror. Now
Hiram heard her say, as he stepped back from the plunging horses:

"That is a good boy, Daddy. Speak to him again."

The man in gray laughed. He was now holding in the frightened
team with one firm hand while he fumbled in the pocket of his big
coat with the other.

"He certainly has got some muscle, that lad," announced the
"gentleman. Here, son, where can I find you when I'm in town
"again?"

"I work at Dwight's Emporium," replied Hiram, rather diffidently.

"All right. Thanks. Here's my card. You're the kind of a boy
I like. I'll surely look you up."

He held out the bit of pasteboard to Hiram; but as the youth
stepped nearer to reach it, the impatient horses sprang forward
and the carriage rolled swiftly by him.

The card flipped from the man's fingers. Hiram grabbed for it,
but missed the card. It fluttered into the excavation in the
street and the shadow hid it completely from the boy's gaze.