The Crimson Thread Part 15

"Whoa, d.i.c.k! Whoa! Whoa!"

Had her scream been "Go d.i.c.k! Go!" it would not have had a different effect. He simply redoubled his speed.

Then it was that the State Street throng of shoppers viewed a performance that was not on the program and one they would not soon forget--a hatless, coatless girl, hair flying, cheeks aflame, das.h.i.+ng madly down the street astride a st.u.r.dy police horse.

Some laughed, some cheered, others gasped in astonishment and fright. A corner policeman leaped for the reins, but missed. Panic spread through the cross streets. It was a bad morning for jay-walkers. Having failed to see the on-coming charger, they would leap boldly before a slow-moving auto to give one startled look upward, then to register the blankest surprise and shy suddenly backward. Had it not been such a serious business, Cordie would have laughed at the expressions on their faces; but this was no laughing matter. To all appearances she had stolen a policeman's horse, and that in broad daylight.

Suddenly a second police horse swung out into the street.

"Stop! Stop! I arrest you!" shouted the rider.

"That's easy said," the girl murmured in an agony of fear lest d.i.c.k should trample someone under his feet. "It's easy said. I wish you would."

Evidently d.i.c.k did not agree with these sentiments, for the instant he sensed this rival his head went higher, a great snort escaped his nostrils and he was away with a fresh burst of speed which left the surprised officer three lengths behind.

"Oh! Oh! What shall I do!" groaned the girl.

The more she tugged at the reins the faster flew d.i.c.k's splendid limbs.

He had the bit between his teeth.

Suddenly, as if aggravated by the crowds that threatened to block his way, he whirled to a side street and went das.h.i.+ng toward the Boulevard.

"The Boulevard! Oh, the Boulevard! We will be killed!"

Before them lay the Boulevard where autos, thick as bees in clover, raced forward at twenty miles an hour. What chance could there be of escape?

Trust a horse. While pedestrians stared and screamed in terror, while policemen vainly blew whistles and auto drivers set brakes screaming, d.i.c.k, without slackening his pace, raced ahead of a yellow limousine, grazed a black sedan, sent a flivver to the curb, and with one magnificent leap cleared the sidewalk and the low chain at its edge, landing squarely upon the soft, yielding turf of the park.

"Ah, that's better," he all but seemed to say. Then, heading south along the narrow park that extended straight away for a mile, he continued his mad career.

Cordie, risking one backward look, gasped in consternation and fear.

"d.i.c.k, d.i.c.k, you old villain! You've got me in for life! Never, never again!"

Three policemen, each mounted on his steed, came das.h.i.+ng after her in mad pursuit.

A straight, broad course lay before them; a pretty enough course to tempt anyone. Seeming to gain new strength from the very touch of it, d.i.c.k gripped his bit and fairly flew.

And Cordie, in spite of her predicament, regardless of impending arrest, was actually getting a thrill out of it. For one thing, there were now no pedestrians to be run down. The park was deserted. For another thing, ahead of d.i.c.k lay a clear stretch of turf which she hoped would satisfy his l.u.s.t for speed.

Finding herself in a more cheerful frame of mind, Cordie took to studying her pursuers. That they were of different ages she guessed more by the way they rode than by a clear view of their faces; d.i.c.k had left them too far behind for that. The foremost rider was a man of thirty-five or so, a stern minion of the law, and he was plainly angry. It had been he who had informed her on State Street that she was arrested. He had an unusually long nose--she remembered that. He rode a poor mount very badly indeed.

The punishment he was getting, as he jounced up and down in the saddle, he would doubtless attempt to pa.s.s on to her and to d.i.c.k. She ardently wished that he might never catch up, but realized at the same time that it could not well be avoided. The race must come to a close.

The other policemen were different. One was heavy and well past middle age; the other young, perhaps no older than Patrick O'Hara. They rode with the easy grace of an aged and a young cowboy. She had seen some like that in the movies not so long ago. She fancied she saw a smile on the younger man's face. Perhaps he was enjoying the race. She sincerely hoped he might be, and the older man, too. As for the one of the long nose--not a chance.

All things have an end. d.i.c.k's race did. Having come close to an iron fence, beyond which towered a brick structure, he appeared to a.s.sume that he had reached the goal. Dropping to a slow trot, he circled gracefully to the right, and as he came to a standstill he threw his head high as much as to say:

"We won, didn't we; and by a handsome margin!"

"Yes, you old goose," the girl breathed. "And now, instead of a blue ribbon for you and a purse for me, we get an invite to some dirty old police court."

There was no time for further thought. The foremost policeman, he of the long nose, rode up and s.n.a.t.c.hing at the reins, snarled:

"Suppose you call that smart, you--you flapper!"

Staring angrily at the girl, he gave d.i.c.k's rein such a yank as threw the magnificent horse on his haunches.

Instantly Cordie's eyes flashed fire. They might take her to jail and welcome; but abuse d.i.c.k he might not!

d.i.c.k, however, proved quite equal to caring for himself. With a snort he leaped to one side, and jerking his rein from the policeman's grasp, went das.h.i.+ng away.

So sudden was this turn that Cordie, caught unawares, was thrown cras.h.i.+ng to the ground. The officer wheeled and rode after the horse.

It was the older man, the one with gray about his temples, who, quickly dismounting, helped the girl to her feet.

"Are you hurt?" he asked in a tone that had a fatherly touch in it.

That did the trick for Cordie. All her anger was gone. She was not injured, but tears came trickling out from beneath her eyelids as she half sobbed:

"I--I'm sorry. Truly I am. I didn't, didn't mean to. Truly--truly I didn't! I--I used to ride him in races, on--on the farm. And I thought--thought it would be fun to just sit--sit a minute in his saddle.

I tried it and I guess--guess he thought it was to be another race.

Anyway, he--he bolted with me and I couldn't stop him. Truly, truly I couldn't!"

"That's all right, Miss," said the elderly one, putting a fatherly hand on her shoulder. "It may not be so bad, after all."

The younger policeman had also dismounted and now stood smiling at them and appearing to wish he might take the place of his older friend.

"That is Pat O'Hara's horse," he said at last. "He's the smartest mount on the force. And I'll tell you one thing, if we wait for Hogan to catch him we'll be here until to-morrow morning."

Hogan, the irate policeman, was certainly having his troubles catching d.i.c.k. With the skill and mischief of a trained performer, d.i.c.k was playing tag with him in a masterly fas.h.i.+on. He would stand with head down as if asleep until his pursuer was all but upon him; then with a snort he would dash away. No amount of coaxing, cajoling or cursing could bring him any nearer to capture.

This little play went on for several minutes. Then, at a time when d.i.c.k had circled quite close to her, Cordie suddenly put two fingers to her lips and let out a shrill whistle. Instantly the splendid horse p.r.i.c.ked up his ears and came trotting toward her.

"Good old d.i.c.k," she whispered, patting him on the neck and not so much as putting out a hand for his rein.

"Well I'll be--" mumbled the younger policeman.

"There's lots like 'em, both horses and girls," the old man smiled, "and I'll swear there's not more bad in the girl than the horse."

"No, now Hogan," he held up a warning hand to the one who came riding up.

"You leave this to me. Where's O'Hara's stand?"

"State and Madison," volunteered the younger man.

"Good, we're off. You men can ride back to your posts. I'll tend to this matter myself."

The younger man grinned. Hogan growled; then they rode away.

"You better mount and ride back," suggested the older man to Cordie.