“Then follow it!” shot from Frank Merriwell’s lips. “Find it—recover it—bring it back! You must do it in a hurry. That paper is going up right after dinner, and I’ll be on hand to see that it goes up right. We’ll block Mr. King’s little game right away. Now don’t make any mistake, you must recover that paper, and you must be ready to start with me at one o’clock to put it up. Have everything ready then. Do you understand?”
“I—I think so.”
“All right. I’ll be here on the dot.”
Then Frank hustled away.
He inquired the way to the office of the local newspaper, and went there direct, finding the editor just preparing to go home to dinner.
Merry introduced himself and chatted with the editor a short time. He found the manager of the opera house had brought in some notices of the Julian King Company, but had furnished none of Haley & Hawkins’ Company.
Frank told just what sort of a trick King had attempted to play, and the editor became somewhat interested.
While they were talking there was a commotion on the street, and, looking out, Frank saw a runaway horse tearing along, with a little child, scarcely more than a baby, clinging to the seat of the rocking carriage.
Like a flash, the ex-Yale athlete shot out of the door, took a run in the same direction the frightened horse was going, caught the animal by the bit, and stopped the creature in less than six rods, by a wonderful display of strength and skill.
The owner of the turnout, who was also the father of the child, came rushing up, pale and trembling, and caught the uninjured little one in his arms, kissing and caressing her.