on all sides.

Meanwhile the lady in the cab was being assisted out by a gentleman.
Then she took her little girl in her arms. The child spoke, in a high
clear voice, that could be heard above the noise of traffic, which had
started up again, when it was seen that the runaway was stopped.

"Mother, is that the boy who caught the naughty horsie?"

"Yes, dear, mother wants to thank him."

"So do I, mother. And I want to kiss him for stopping the bad horsie
that scared Mary."

There was a laugh at this, and Roy blushed deeper than ever.

"Come on," he said to Mortimer De Royster, who had made his way to his
side. "Let's get out of this. Anybody would think I was giving a
Wild-West exhibition."

"Well, that's pretty near what it was. I never saw a runaway better
stopped, and I've seen some of our best policemen try it. You
certainly know how to manage horses."

"Even if I don't know when I'm on a ferry boat," added Roy with a
laugh. "But it would be a wonder if I didn't know something about
cattle. I've been among 'em all my life."

"Excuse me, sir," spoke the lady who had been in the cab. "I want to
thank you for what you did," and she extended her hand, encased in a
neat glove.

Roy instinctively held out his hand, and then he drew it back. He
noted that it was covered with foam and mud, where the horse had
splashed it up on the bridle which he grasped. He had not noticed this
when the men congratulated him. The lady saw his hesitation and
exclaimed:

"What? You hesitate on account of not wanting to soil my gloves?
There!" and before Roy could stop her she had grasped both his hands in
her own, practically ruining her new gloves, for his left hand was more
dirty than was his right. "What do I care for my gloves?" she
exclaimed.

"Can't I kiss the nice boy, mother?" pleaded the little girl, whom her
parent had placed on the crosswalk, close beside her.

There was another laugh, but Roy was not going to mind that. Though he
had no brothers or sisters, he was very fond of children. The next
instant he had stooped over and kissed the little girl.

Once more the crowd laughed, but in a friendly way, for Roy was a lad
after the heart of every New Yorker--brave, fearless, yet kind.

"I can't begin to thank you," went on the lady. "But for you, Mary and
I might have been killed."

"Oh, I guess the horse would have slowed up pretty soon, ma'am,"
replied Roy.

"Now don't make light of it," u