fire bells, and get
the chemical engine out to parade after us. Guess they'll think the
circus has struck Riverport early this year."

Meanwhile Bristles had succeeded in discovering a small amount of oats in
a bin, and he emptied a generous lot of these in the trough of the
antiquated looking horse. The animal had started whinnying the instant
he heard the boy moving over in that corner, where he must have known the
grain was kept, though he seldom had more than a handful at a time.

It was a whole hour before they managed to get the rig fixed up. Indeed,
only by the united efforts of all the boys was the bony horse dragged
away from his feed trough, where he had kept munching the oats
delightedly.

Then they hunted up all the old horse blankets, and empty gunny-sacks
they could find about the place, and made a soft bed in the wagon. A
stretcher was also improvised from some boards, and when four of them
took hold they managed to carry poor Tom to the nearby vehicle, and
deposit him on the sacks.

Being guided by directions which Tom gave them, they found how a road
wound through the woods to the road, striking the main thoroughfare just
above where they had come out on their previous trip, and with the
toll-gate in sight.

"Here's where we gain something, boys," Fred told them, "and this Good
Samaritan job may count in our favor next week when we make that run."

Fred had been thoughtful enough to write a little note, addressed to the
owner of the wretched outfit, whose name it seemed was Ezekial Parsons.
In it he explained just how they happened to find poor Tom, and that they
had borrowed the rig to get him to his home, where he could have proper
care.

He had also promised that the horse and wagon should be returned in due
time, and hinted that his father and mother might be expected to run up
and make the acquaintance of the old couple who had been so kind to Tom,
although not really able to keep a hand about the place.

The man at the toll-gate stared, as well he might, when that antiquated
rig came in sight, with the four boys partly bundled in faded horse
blankets and gunny-sacks. The weather had not yet cleared, and the air
was chilly for fellows as devoid of clothing as runners always are.

When he heard about the accident that had happened to Tom, he was loud in
his praise of the action of the boys in giving up their trial spin just
to get the injured boy home.

"If I had a hoss myself, I'd