Do you
suppose he was hiding?"
"It was Ricks Wilson, or I am a blind man!" cried Sandy, standing up
in the buggy and straining his eyes in the darkness.
"Why, he's in jail!"
"May I never trust me two eyes to speak the truth again if that wasn't
Ricks!"
When they started they found that the harness was broken, and all
efforts to fix it were in vain.
"It's half-past five now," cried Annette. "If I don't get home
b-before dad, he'll have out the fire department."
"There's a farm-house a good way back," said Sandy; "but it's too far
for you to walk. Will you be waiting here in the buggy until I go for
help?"
"Well, I guess not!" said Annette, indignantly.
Sandy looked at the round baby face beside him and laughed. "It's not
one of meself that blames you," he said; "but how are we ever to get
home?"
Annette was not without resources.
"What's the matter with riding the horse b-back to the farm?"
"And you?" asked Sandy.
"I'll ride behind."
They became hilarious over the mounting, for the horse bitterly
resented a double burden.
When he found he could not dispose of it he made a dash for freedom,
and raced over the frozen road at such a pace that they were soon at
their destination.
"He won the handicap," laughed Sandy as he lifted his disheveled
companion to the ground.
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