chanting beseechingly

Oh, bring this wagon home, John,
It will not hold us a-all.

For some time there was silence in the Scarlet Car, and then
Winthrop broke it by laughing.

"First, I lose Peabody," he explained, "then I lose Sam, and
now, after I throw Fred overboard, I am going to drive you

into Stamford, where they do not ask runaway couples for a
license, and marry you."

The girl smiled comfortably. In that mood she was not afraid
of him.

She lifted her face, and stretched out her arms as though she
were drinking in the moonlight.

"It has been such a good day," she said simply, "and I am
really so very happy."

"I shall be equally frank," said Winthrop. "So am I."
For two hours they had been on the road, and were just

entering Fairport. For some long time the voices of the
pursuing grizzlies had been lost in the far distance.

"The road's up," said Miss Forbes.
She pointed ahead to two red lanterns.

"It was all right this morning," exclaimed Winthrop.
The car was pulled down to eight miles an hour, and, trembling

and snorting at the indignity, nosed up to the red lanterns.
They showed in a ruddy glow the legs of two men.

"You gotta stop!" commanded a voice.
"Why?" asked Winthrop.

The voice became embodied in the person of a tall man, with a
long overcoat and a drooping mustache.

"'Cause I tell you to!" snapped the tall man.
Winthrop threw a quick glance to the rear. In that direction

for a mile the road lay straight away. He could see its
entire length, and it was empty. In thinking of nothing but

Miss Forbes, he had forgotten the chaperon. He was impressed
with the fact that the immediate presence of a chaperon was

desirable. Directly in front of the car, blocking its
advance, were two barrels, with a two-inch plank sagging

heavily between them. Beyond that the main street of Fairport
lay steeped in slumber and moonlight.

"I am a selectman," said the one with the lantern. "You been
exceedin' our speed limit."

The chauffeur gave a gasp that might have been construed to
mean that the charge amazed and shocked him.

"That is not possible," Winthrop answered. "I have been going
very slow--on purpose--to allow a disabled car to keep up with

me."
The selectman looked down the road.

"It ain't kep' up with you," he said pointedly.
"It has until the last few minutes."

"It's the last few minutes we're talking about," returned the
man who had not spoken. He put his foot on the step of the

car.
"What are you doing?" asked Winthrop.

"I am going to take you to Judge Allen's. I am chief of
police. You are under arrest."

Before Winthrop rose moving pictures of Miss Forbes appearing
in a dirty police station before an officious Dogberry, and,

as he and his car were well known along the Post road,
appearing the next morning in the New York papers. "William

Winthrop," he saw the printed words, "son of Endicott
Winthrop, was arrested here this evening, with a young woman

who refused to give her name, but who was recognized as Miss
Beatrice Forbes, whose engagement to Ernest Peabody, the

Reform candidate on the Independent ticket----"
And, of course, Peabody would blame her.

"If I have exceeded your speed limit," he said politely, "I
shall be delighted to pay the fine. How much is it?"

"Judge Allen'll tell you what the fine is," said the selectman
gruffly. And he may want bail."

"Bail?" demanded Winthrop. "Do you mean to tell me he will
detain us here?"

"He will, if he wants to," answered the chief of police
combatively.

For an instant Winthrop sat gazing gloomily ahead, overcome
apparently by the enormity of his offence. He was calculating

whether, if he rammed the two-inch plank, it would hit the car
or Miss Forbes. He decidedswiftly it would hit his new

two-hundred-dollar lamps. As swiftly he decided the new lamps
must go. But he had read of guardians of the public safety so

regardless of private safety as to try to puncture runaway
tires with pistol bullets. He had no intention of subjecting

Miss Forbes to a fusillade.
So he whirled upon the chief of police:

"Take your hand off that gun!" he growled. "How dare you
threaten me?"

Amazed, the chief of police dropped from the step and advanced
indignantly.

"Me?" he demanded. "I ain't got a gun. What you mean by----"
With sudden intelligence, the chauffeur precipitated himself

upon the scene.
"It's the other one," he shouted. He shook an accusing finger

at the selectman. " He pointed it at the lady."
To Miss Forbes the realism of Fred's acting was too

convincing. To learn that one is covered with a loaded
revolver is disconcerting. Miss Forbes gave a startled

squeak, and ducked her head.
Winthrop roared aloud at the selectman.

"How dare you frighten the lady!" he cried. "Take your hand
off that gun."

"What you talkin' about?" shouted the selectman. "The idea of
my havin' a gun! I haven't got a----"

"All right, Fred!" cried Winthrop. "Low bridge."
There was a crash of shattered glass and brass, of scattered

barrel staves, the smell of escaping gas, and the Scarlet Car
was flying drunkenly down the main street.

"What are they doing now, Fred?" called the owner.
Fred peered over the stern of the flying car.

"The constable's jumping around the road," he replied, "and
the long one's leaning against a tree. No, he's climbing the

tree. I can't make out WHAT he's doing."
"_I_ know!" cried Miss Forbes; her voice vibrated with

excitement. Defiance of the law had thrilled her with
unsuspected satisfaction; her eyes were dancing. "There was a

telephone fastened to the tree, a hand telephone. They are
sending word to some one. They're trying to head us off."

Winthrop brought the car to a quick halt.
"We're in a police trap!" he said. Fred leaned forward and

whispered to his employer. His voice also vibrated with the
joy of the chase.

"This'll be our THIRD arrest, he said. "That means----"
"I know what it means," snapped Winthrop. "Tell me how we can

get out of here."
"We can't get out of here, sir, unless we go back. Going

south, the bridge is the only way out."
"The bridge!" Winthrop struck the wheel savagely with his