"Officers, arrest this fellow!" commanded the young woman. Her
gesture was Didoesque in its wrath.

"That we will, ma'am!" cried one of the policemen, flinging himself
from his horse. "So it's you, me gay buck? Thirty days fer you, an'
mebbe more. I didn't like yer looks from th' start. You're working
some kind of a trick. What complaint, ma'am?"

"Drunkenness and abduction,"--rubbing the burning spot on her cheek.

"That'll be rather serious. Ye'll have to appear against him in th'
mornin', ma'am."

"I certainly shall do so." She promptly gave her name, address and
telephone number.

"Bill, you drive th' ladies home an' I'll see this bucko to th'
station. Here, you!"--to Warburton, who was still dumb with
astonishment at the extraordinary denouement to his innocent joke.
"Git on that horse, an' lively, too, or I'll rap ye with th' club."

"It's all a mistake, officer--"

"Close yer face an' git on that horse. Y' can tell th' judge all that
in th' mornin'. _I_ ain't got no time t' listen. Bill, report
just as soon as ye see th' ladies home. Now, off with ye. Th'
ladies'll be wantin' somethin' t' quiet their nerves. Git on that
horse, me frisky groom; hustle!" Warburton mechanically climbed into
the saddle. It never occurred to him to parley, to say that he