go, I tell you. I haven't stole no cab, and you've got no right to
stop me. I only want to take it to the _Press_ office," he begged.
"They'll send it back to you all right. They'll pay you for the trip.
I'm not running away with it. The driver's got the collar--he's
'rested--and I'm only a-going to the _Press_ office. Do you hear me?"
he cried, his voice rising and breaking in a shriek of passion and
disappointment. "I tell you to let go those reins. Let me go, or I'll
kill you. Do you hear me? I'll kill you." And leaning forward, the boy
struck savagely with his long whip at the faces of the men about the
horse's head.

Some one in the crowd reached up and caught him by the ankles, and
with a quick jerk pulled him off the box, and threw him on to the
street. But he was up on his knees in a moment, and caught at the
man's hand.

"Don't let them stop me, mister," he cried, "please let me go. I
didn't steal the cab, sir. S'help me, I didn't. I'm telling you the
truth. Take me to the _Press_ office, and they'll prove it to you.
They'll pay you anything you ask 'em. It's only such a little ways
now, and I've come so far, sir. Please don't let them stop me," he
sobbed, clasping the man about the knees. "For Heaven's sake, mister,
let me go!"

The managing editor of the _Press_ took up the india-rubber speaking-
tube at his side, and answered, "Not yet" to an inquiry the night
editor had already put to him five times within the last twenty
minutes.

Then he snapped the metal top of the tube impatiently, and went up-