htest difference to Sable, who just went as if the woods were
afire. Suddenly he turned and dashed straight up a big hill and over
into a neighbor's cornfield.

"Oh, mercy!" cried Harry, "those people are so mean about their garden,
they'll have Tom arrested if there's any corn broken."

Of course it was impossible for a runaway horse to go through a field
of corn and do no damage, and Tom realized this too. By this time the
dogs were out barking furiously, and altogether there was wild
excitement. At one end of the field there was a high board fence.

"If I could only get him there he would have to stop," thought Tom, and
suddenly he gave Sable a jerk in that direction.

"Drop off, Tom, drop off!" yelled the boys. "He'll throw you against
the fence!"

But at that minute the little horse threw himself against the boards in
such a way that Tom slid off, yet held tightly to the reins.

The horse fell, quite exhausted.

As quickly as they could get there the boys came up to help Tom.

"Hurry!" said Harry, "there is scarcely any corn broken, and we can get
away before the Trimbles see us. They're away back in the fields
planting late cabbage."

Tom felt hardly able to walk, but he limped along while Harry led Sable
carefully between the cornhills. It was only a few feet to the edge of
the field, and then they were all safe on the road again.

"Are you hurt?" the boys asked Tom, when finally they had a chance to
speak about the runaway.

"I feel as if I had dropped from a balloon onto a lot of cobblestones,"
Tom answered, "but I guess that's only the shaking up I got. That pony
certainly can go."

"Yes indeed," Harry admitted; "I guess he doesn't like the smell of
sulphur matches. Lucky he was not injured with that fall against the
fence."

"I found I had to throw him," Tom said, "and I thought the fence was
softer than a tree."

"I suppose we ought to make him run until he is played out," said Bert,
"That's the way to cure a horse of running away."

But none of the boys felt like risking their bones even to cure Sable,
so the panting animal was led to the stable and for the rest of the day
allowed to think over his bad conduct.

But that was not the last of the runaway, for in the evening just after
supper old Mr. Trimble paid a visit to Tom's father.

"I came over to tell you what a scallywag of a boy you've got," began
the cross old man. "He and a lot of young loafers took a horse and
drove him all t