“Good for you, Harry!”
“That was well done!”
“My! but he’s got nerve, hasn’t he?”
“I—I guess I had better get ho—home!” chattered the hero of the occasion. “I’m almost fro—frozen!”
“Here, take my overcoat!” It was Jack Bascoe who spoke. “You’re a brick, Harry! I never dreamed that you had turned out to save Minnie Woodruff.”
“Who won the ra—race?” questioned Harry, as he slid into the overcoat in short order.
“I did. But you were ahead, and you deserve——”
Jack broke off short, as a sleigh drawn by a pair of coal black horses dashed up on the ice. It was old Mr. Grimes’ turnout.
“Get in here, and put the girl in, too!” cried the old fellow, who sat on the front seat beside the driver. “Be quick! The sooner you both get home the better. You’ll catch your death of cold out here on the river.”
And Minnie Woodruff and Harry were bundled into the back seat by Boxy and the others without delay; the robes were piled over them, and then off they spun for the town.