e to
side and its noise spurred the maddened horses to greater speed, the boy
plunged forward and climbed into the seat.

The reins had been torn from the whipstock; they were dragging in the
street. It looked for the moment as though Neale had risked his life for
nothing. He could not halt the runaways!

Another boy might have failed, even after getting that far; but not
"that circus boy"!

People along the street set up a shout when they beheld Neale O'Neil
leap right down on the pole of the wagon and stretch out perilously to
seize the reins at the hames. He had them and was back in the seat
before the horses had run another block.

As he passed Ralph Avenue where the Corner House girls stood, he had
lost his hat; his hair, which had grown long again, was blowing back in
the wind, and his white face was a mask of determination.

"Oh! he'll be killed!" whispered Ruth.

"He's going to stop them!" crowed Agnes, with assurance.

And so Neale did. He stopped them as soon as he could get into the seat,
brace his feet, and obtain a purchase on the lines. He knew how to break
the horses' hold on the bits, and sawing at their mouths sharply, he
soon brought them to a stop.

He tried to drive back to his work then without being accosted by the
crowd that quickly gathered. But the reporter from the _Post_ was right
on the spot and the next morning a long article appeared on the front
page of the paper about the runaway and about the youngster who had
played the hero.

Because Neale refused to talk to the reporter himself, other people had
talked for him, and quite a little romance about Neale was woven into
the story. Even the fact that he went by the nickname of "the circus
boy" at school got into the story, and it was likewise told how he had
made a high mark in gymnastics.

Neale seemed terribly cut-up when the girls showed him the article in
the paper. "Why," said Ruth, "you ought to be proud."

"Of that tattling business?" snapped Neale.

"No. Not so much that the paper speaks well of you, but because of your
ability to do such a thing," said the oldest Corner House girl. "It
isn't every boy that could do it."

"I should hope not!" growled Neale, emphatically. "Let me tell you," he
added, angrily, "the reason I can do such things is the reason why I am
such an ignorant fellow--and so far behind other chaps of my age."

And that is the nearest Neale had ever come to saying anything directly
about his old l