anything, the animal was making more desperate headway than ever, for
the outcries on every side seemed to add to his fright.

Every eye was focussed on the runner. One man in a vehicle had drawn in
his horse, and with white cheeks watched the remarkable scene.

If any among that throng had reason to send up a silent prayer for the
safety of that daring lad just then, surely he might. For the man in the
buggy was Doctor Alan Morrison, Paul's own father!

Five seconds passed, but it seemed an hour, a day, a life-time to that
man, as his heart ceased to beat, and he gripped the reins convulsively
in his clenched hands.

Then the heavens seemed to almost split with the sudden outburst of wild
shouts that raced up and down that street.

"He's done it! Hurrah! The boy's stopped him! Bully for Paul Morrison!"

Men shouted, boys shrieked, while women embraced in their tears. The
tense strain was over, for willing hands had clutched the lines after
Paul's weight had brought the wild runaway to a staggering halt; and the
danger was past.

Then ensued a wild scene, everybody trying to get hold of the boy who had
known what to do in an emergency, and not only that, but had done it.

Confused, overwhelmed, Paul in the great confusion tried to flee; but
while he did manage to duck under many of the hands outstretched to
clutch him, it was only to dart into the arms of some one who pressed him