Instantly, as though the whistle had been the cue, the stirring sound of galloping steeds smote the asphalt of Fifth Avenue.
"Let him go, Officer McGinnis," said Max Onthemaker, magnanimously. "We do not care to appear against him."
"Ain't he fine-looking?" a woman asked her companion, looking at the law. She even pointed at him.
Mr. McGinnis therefore haughtily said, "Resisting an officer—"
H. R. on horseback, in correct riding attire, following seven mounted traffic-squad men, appeared on the scene.
"There he is!" said Mr. Onthemaker to the reporters, dutifully yielding the center of the stage to its rightful possessor. After all, there was only one H. R., and both H. R. and Max Onthemaker knew it.
"That's the commissioner," said a clerk to the atmosphere.
"It's young Vandergilt!" asserted the fickle one who had thought McGinnis was fine-looking.
Before the traffic squad could dismount, H. R. jumped down from his horse, threw the reins to one of the mounted officers, said, "Look after him!" so decisively that no remonstrance was possible, approached the group, and said, "I'm Mr. Rutgers!"
Fifth Avenue was impassable now.