r, seeing that the game was up, dropped his plunder,
and started to run. But, as luck would have it, he ran straight into the
arms of the two policemen, who were returning to the spot they ought
never to have quitted; and the policemen, not being able to get away,
could not help making him their prisoner.

The same luck befriended the other two officers; for, coming back from
a fruitless chase of the man who had fired the decoying shot, they
fortunately were in time to capture the man who had jumped the fence,
and were heroes among their fellows for nine days after.

The commotion had roused the whole neighbourhood. Windows were raised by
frightened women, and half-dressed men ran into the street. Lights were
quickly brought, and an excited crowd gathered round the prisoners,
talking and asking a thousand questions.

The two men were handcuffed, and were about being carried off when a
dark object on the grass attracted attention. A man, alive but unable to
move. "Who is he?" "How did he get there?" Everybody surprised excepting
Jerry.

"I beg your pardon, sirs," said the old fellow. "Please excuse me,
sirs,"--turning humbly from one to another,--"but I had to do it. He was
going to shoot, and I couldn't stand that, sirs, so I just tapped him a
bit with my friendly stick."

"And that isn't half," interrupted Mr. Morton. "If it had not been for
the stout arm of this brave old man I would be dead. See that pistol on
the ground? It was aimed at me when Jerry's club knocked the breath out
of the scoundrel lying beside it."

[Illustration]

While her husband was speaking, Mrs. Morton had appeared, and, on
hearing his words, she went up to the crooked little man. Around his
tanned and wrinkled neck went her white arms, and with the tears
streaming she sobbed:

"You brave, brave soldier! His children and their mother will love and
bless you as long as they live!"

Jerry was so ashamed that he knew not where to look when, fortunately,
the patrol wagon drove up, and the public attention was diverted by the
removal of the wounded man and the prisoners to jail. He seized the
opportunity to escape, and hurried across the common to his little
cottage.

There his Peggy awaited him. In those arms he was never ashamed; to her
he was always a hero; and as, listening to his story, she gazed at him
with eyes overflowing with tenderness, he felt that the earth could not
contain a happier man than Jerry Myer.

CHAPTER IX