In reality his heart was beating heavily against his side, and he felt
that if he was kept on a strain much longer he would give way and
break down. A second snow-covered form emerged suddenly from the
shadow of the houses.

"What is it, Reeder?" it asked.

"Oh, nothing much," replied the first officer.

"This kid hadn't any lamps lit, so I called to him to stop and he
didn't do it, so I whistled to you. It's all right, though. He's just
taking it round to Bachman's. Go ahead," he added, sulkily.

"Get up!" chirped Gallegher. "Good night," he added, over his
shoulder.

Gallegher gave an hysterical little gasp of relief as he trotted away
from the two policemen, and poured bitter maledictions on their heads
for two meddling fools as he went.

"They might as well kill a man as scare him to death," he said, with
an attempt to get back to his customary flippancy. But the effort was
somewhat pitiful, and he felt guiltily conscious that a salt, warm
tear was creeping slowly down his face, and that a lump that would not
keep down was rising in his throat.

"'Tain't no fair thing for the whole police force to keep worrying at
a little boy like me," he said, in shame-faced apology. "I'm not doing
nothing wrong, and I'm half froze to death, and yet they keep a-
nagging at me."