CORDIE'S STRANGE RIDE
Twice a day, after Cordie had discovered him, the police horse, Dick, had
a lump of sugar--one in the morning and another at noon. And Mounted
Officer Patrick O'Hara, very young, quite handsome and somewhat dashing,
received a smile with each lump of sugar. It would have been hard to tell
which enjoyed his portion the most, Dick or Patrick O'Hara.
Apparently nothing could have pleased Cordie more than this discovery of
an old friend. Yes, there was one other thing that would have pleased her
much more. She found herself longing for it more and more. Every time she
saw the horse she secretly yearned for this privilege.
And then, quite surprisingly, the opportunity came. It was noon. Having
come out from the store to give Dick his daily portion, she was surprised
to find him standing alone, head down, and patiently waiting. A glance
down the street told her there had been an auto collision in the middle
of the block; not a serious one probably, as the cars did not seem badly
smashed, but of course Patrick O'Hara had gone over there to take down
the numbers. Since traffic had been jammed, he had dismounted and walked.
"Wha--what a chance," Cordie breathed, her heart skipping a beat. "Do I
dare?"
She looked up at the splendid saddle with its broad circle of brass and
other trappings. She studied Dick's smooth, sleek sides.
"I know I shouldn't," she whispered, "but I do so want to. Dick, do you
suppose he'd care?"
The temptation was growing stronger. Glancing down the street, she caught
a glimpse of Patrick O'Hara's cap above the crowd. His back was turned.
The temptation was no longer to be resisted. With a touch and a spring,
light as air, Cordie leaped into the saddle.
"Just for old times," she whispered.
She had meant to hover there for an instant, then to leap right down
again. But alas for the best laid plans. Old Dick had apparently
remembered things about the past which she had quite forgotten, and with
a wild snort his head went up, his four feet came together, and with a
leap that completely cleared him from the autos that blocked his way, he
went tearing down the street.
For a second the girl's head was in a whirl. So unexpected was this mad
dash that she was all but thrown from the saddle. Apparently an
experienced rider, she regained her balance, clung to the pommel of the
saddle for an instant, then gripping the reins, she screamed:
"Whoa, Dick! Whoa! Whoa!"
Had her scream been "Go Dick! Go!" it would not have had a different
effect. He simply redoubled his speed.
Then it was that the State Street throng of shoppers viewed a performance
that was not on the program and one they would not soon forget--a
hatless, coatless girl, hair flying, cheeks aflame, dashing madly down
the street astride a sturdy police horse.
Some laughed, some cheered, others gasped in astonishment and fright. A
corner policeman leaped for the reins, but missed. Panic spread through
the cross streets. It was a bad morning for jay-walkers. Having failed to
see the on-coming charger, they would leap boldly before a slow-moving
auto to give one startled look upward, then to register the blankest
surprise and shy suddenly backward. Had it not been such a serious
business, Cordie would have laughed at the expressions on their faces;
but this was no laughing matter. To all appearances she had stolen a
policeman's horse, and that in broad daylight.
Suddenly a second police horse swung out into the street.
"Stop! Stop! I arrest you!" shouted the rider.
"That's easy said," the girl murmured in an agony of fear lest Dick
should trample someone under his feet. "It's easy said. I wish you
would."
Evidently Dick did not agree with these sentiments, for the instant he
sensed this rival his head went higher, a great snort escaped his
nostrils and he was away with a fresh burst of speed which left the
surprised officer three lengths behind.
"Oh! Oh! What shall I do!" groaned the girl.
The more she tugged at the reins the faster flew Dick's splendid limbs.
He had the bit between his teeth.
Suddenly, as if aggravated by the crowds that threatened to block his
way, he whirled to a side street and went dashing toward the Boulevard.
"The Boulevard! Oh, the Boulevard! We will be killed!"
Before them lay the Boulevard where autos, thick as bees in clover, raced
forward at twenty miles an hour. What chance could there be of escape?
Trust a horse. While pedestrians stared and screamed in terror, while
policemen vainly blew whistles and auto drivers set brakes screaming,
Dick, without slackening his pace, raced ahead of a yellow limousine,
grazed a black sedan, sent a flivver to the curb, and with one
magnificent leap cleared the sidewalk and the low chain at its edge,
landing squarely upon the soft, yielding turf of the park.
"Ah, that's better," he all but seemed to say. Then, heading south along
the narrow park that extended straight away for a mile, he continued his
mad career.
Cordie, risking one backward look, gasped in consternation and fear.
"Dick, Dick, you old villain! You've got me in for life! Never, never
again!"
Three policemen, each mounted on his steed, came dashing after her in mad
pursuit.
A straight, broad course lay before them; a pretty enough course to tempt
anyone. Seeming to gain new strength from the very touch of it, Dick
gripped his bit and fairly flew.
And Cordie, in spite of her predicament, regardless of impending arrest,
was actually getting a thrill out of it. For one thing, there were now no
pedestrians to be run down. The park was deserted. For another thing,
ahead of Dick lay a clear stretch of turf which she hoped would satisfy
his lust for speed.
Finding herself in a more cheerful frame of mind, Cordie took to studying
her pursuers. That they were of different ages she guessed more by the
way they rode than by a clear view of their faces; Dick had left them too
far behind for that. The foremost rider was a man of thirty-five or so, a
stern minion of the law, and he was plainly angry. It had been he who had
informed her on State Street that she was arrested. He had an unusually
long nose--she remembered that. He rode a poor mount very badly indeed.
The punishment he was getting, as he jounced up and down in the saddle,
he would doubtless attempt to pass on to her and to Dick. She ardently
wished that he might never catch up, but realized at the same time that
it could not well be avoided. The race must come to a close.
The other policemen were different. One was heavy and well past middle
age; the other young, perhaps no older than Patrick O'Hara. They rode
with the easy grace of an aged and a young cowboy. She had seen some like
that in the movies not so long ago. She fancied she saw a smile on the
younger man's face. Perhaps he was enjoying the race. She sincerely hoped
he might be, and the older man, too. As for the one of the long nose--not
a chance.
All things have an end. Dick's race did. Having come close to an iron
fence, beyond which towered a brick structure, he appeared to assume that
he had reached the goal. Dropping to a slow trot, he circled gracefully
to the right, and as he came to a standstill he threw his head high as
much as to say:
"We won, didn't we; and by a handsome margin!"
"Yes, you old goose," the girl breathed. "And now, instead of a blue
ribbon for you and a purse for me, we get an invite to some dirty old
police court."
There was no time for further thought. The foremost policeman, he of the
long nose, rode up and snatching at the reins, snarled:
"Suppose you call that smart, you--you flapper!"
Staring angrily at the girl, he gave Dick's rein such a yank as threw the
magnificent horse on his haunches.
Instantly Cordie's eyes flashed fire. They might take her to jail and
welcome; but abuse Dick he might not!
Dick, however, proved quite equal to caring for himself. With a snort he
leaped to one side, and jerking his rein from the policeman's grasp, went
dashing away.
So sudden was this turn that Cordie, caught unawares, was thrown crashing
to the ground. The officer wheeled and rode after the horse.
It was the older man, the one with gray about his temples, who, quickly
dismounting, helped the girl to her feet.
"Are you hurt?" he asked in a tone that had a fatherly touch in it.
That did the trick for Cordie. All her anger was gone. She was not
injured, but tears came trickling out from beneath her eyelids as she
half sobbed:
"I--I'm sorry. Truly I am. I didn't, didn't mean to. Truly--truly I
didn't! I--I used to ride him in races, on--on the farm. And I
thought--thought it would be fun to just sit--sit a minute in his saddle.
I tried it and I guess--guess he thought it was to be another race.
Anyway, he--he bolted with me and I couldn't stop him. Truly, truly I
couldn't!"
"That's all right, Miss," said the elderly one, putting a fatherly hand
on her shoulder. "It may not be so bad, after all."
The younger policeman had also dismounted and now stood smiling at them
and appearing to wish he might take the place of his older friend.
"That is Pat O'Hara's horse," he said at last. "He's the smartest mount
on the force. And I'll tell you one thing, if we wait for Hogan to catch
him we'll be here until to-morrow morning."
Hogan, the irate policeman, was certainly having his troubles catching
Dick. With the skill and mischief of a trained performer, Dick was
playing tag with him in a masterly fashion. He would stand with head down
as if asleep until his pursuer was all but upon him; then with a snort he
would dash away. No amount of coaxing, cajoling or cursing could bring
him any nearer to capture.
This little play went on for several minutes. Then, at a time when Dick
had circled quite close to her, Cordie suddenly put two fingers to her
lips and let out a shrill whistle. Instantly the splendid horse pricked
up his ears and came trotting toward her.
"Good old Dick," she whispered, patting him on the neck and not so much
as putting out a hand for his rein.
"Well I'll be--" mumbled the younger policeman.
"There's lots like 'em, both horses and girls," the old man smiled, "and
I'll swear there's not more bad in the girl than the horse."
"No, now Hogan," he held up a warning hand to the one who came riding up.
"You leave this to me. Where's O'Hara's stand?"
"State and Madison," volunteered the younger man.
"Good, we're off. You men can ride back to your posts. I'll tend to this
matter myself."
The younger man grinned. Hogan growled; then they rode away.
"You better mount and ride back," suggested the older man to Cordie.
Seeing her hesitate, he reached for her rein, "I'll steady him a bit, but
he's had his race. Guess he'll be satisfied. But," he said suddenly,
"you're not dressed for this. You must be half frozen."
Unstrapping a great coat from Patrick O'Hara's saddle, he helped her into
it and together they rode away.
And so it happened that on this day, only a few days before Christmas,
the throngs along State Street viewed a second unusual sight. Though
quite different from the first, it was no less mystifying. Who ever heard
of a gray haired policeman and a bobbed haired girl in a policeman's
great coat, riding police horses and parading up the city's most
congested street in broad daylight?
"What a fool I've been," the girl whispered to herself as she hid her
face from a camera. "It will all be in the papers. And then what?"
They found young Patrick O'Hara nervously pacing his beat on foot. His
face lit up with a broad grin as he saw them approaching.
"I sort of figured," he drawled, "that whoever took Dick would bring him
back. Can't anybody do a good job of riding him except me."
"If you think that," exclaimed Tim Reilly, the elderly policeman, "you
just take any horse on the force, give this girl and Dick a three-length
start, and see if you'd catch 'em. You would--not! Not in a thousand
moons!"
Patrick O'Hara grinned as he helped the girl down.
"Now you beat it," said Tim in as stern a voice as he could command. "I
suspect you work around here somewhere close. You've overdone your noon
hour, and this the rush season. You'll be in for it now."
Cordie threw him one uncertain glance to discover whether or not he was
in earnest. The next moment she went racing across the street.