Part 28 (1/2)

”Go on! I'll get that horse!” cried a voice back of Mr. Pertell, and a man, apparently a farmer, sprang at the head of the plunging steed.

CHAPTER XX

FARMER SANDY APGAR

For a moment there was considerable confusion and excitement. Men in pursuit of the frantic animal had rushed after him, calling warnings to those in the zone of danger. Two policemen ran up to intercept the steed.

As for the moving picture actresses they hardly knew what to do. If the plunging animal crashed into the gang-plank he might injure a number of the performers, and break the rather frail structure, letting them slip into the water.

”That picture will be spoiled!” groaned Mr. Pertell.

”No, it won't!” cried Russ. ”Go on! I'm getting you all right. The horse isn't in range yet and that young fellow has him now. Go on!”

Ruth and Alice gathered courage and the others followed, going through with the little gang-plank ”business” called for in the play.

And indeed the quick-witted, rustic youth had the frantic horse in a firm grip. He seemed to know just how to handle frightened animals, and by the time the two policemen had reached him, the beast, though still restive, had quieted down.

”Good work, young fellow!” called one of the officers. ”Whose horse is it?”

”I don't know, constable,” was the answer, given with a country tw.a.n.g that caused several spectators to smile. ”I jest seen him comin' and I see he was headed for them people what's goin' to Europe, I expect.

I didn't want their voyage spoiled, so I jest jumped at his head.”

”Well, you know how to do it, all right,” said the second ”constable,” as the young farmer had called the policemen.

”I ought to know how to handle horses,” was the answer, as the youth relinquished the reins to the officer. ”I've been among 'em all my life. I was brought up on a farm.”

He looked it, but there was something in his simple, manly face, and in the look of his honest blue eyes, that made one like him.

”Good work, all right!” repeated the first officer. ”I'll take your name, young fellow, for my report,” and he drew out a notebook. ”I'll also want to find out to whom the horse belongs, but I s'pose the truckman's license number will be a clue.”

”He's mine,” broke in a voice, as a drayman pushed his way through the crowd. ”Some boys got to fooling around him, and he started off.

No damage done, I hope.”

”No,” replied the policeman, ”but you want to tie your animal after this. He might have hurt someone--probably would have if it hadn't been for this chap. What's your name?” he asked the young farmer.

”Sandy Apgar.”

”And where do you live?”

”On Oak Farm.”

”Never heard of the place,” went on the officer, with a smile.

”Oh, that's the name of our farm. It's jest outside the town of Beatonville, about forty miles back in Jersey.”

”Oh, Jersey!” laughed the officer. ”No wonder! Well, there's your horse, truckman. And now I want your name.”

”Can I go, or do I have to appear in court?” asked Sandy Apgar. ”I hope I don't, 'caused I'm in a hurry to git back to the farm. I've got a pa.s.sel of work to do there, with the weather coming on the way it is.