William Jordan, Junior

by J. C. Snaith

Suddenly there came through the failing light of the afternoon the great form of a horse, a huge animal attached to a heavy railway van. There was no driver, the reins were dangling loose; with tossing mane and wild nostrils, the mighty horse was devouring the roadway with furious strides. It escaped a tramcar as by a miracle; it crashed into a milk-seller’s cart, and sent milk-cans with their contents rolling in all directions. Yet still it kept its course unchecked, a menace to all whom it passed.

The passers-by, huddling together as far away from the kerb as they could squeeze themselves, were then astonished by a strange sight. A ragged, half-naked beggar, hatless, coatless, without shoes and stockings, and with long, matted hair which fell down upon his shoulders, moved off the pavement. He appeared to turn his back upon the mad thing that was approaching him, and then, with a leap of superhuman courage and address, seemed to fling himself at the head of the infuriated brute as it grazed his bare ankles with its hoofs. He was seen to take the reins in his grasp, and, leaping along at the side of the horse, began an attempt to control its furious speed that was little short of miraculous. In the struggle he was several times carried completely off his feet, and borne yards at a time without touching the earth. And though man and brute and vehicle swayed and rocked in all directions, no obstacles intervened to shatter them; and at almost every yard he was borne the man seemed to gain a firmer purchase on the brute.

For half the length of the thoroughfare the titanic struggle was waged between the man and the brute on the slippery, circumscribed and narrow road. At times it seemed that the man must be hurled away from the brute altogether; at other times it seemed that he must be flung beneath the hoofs of the brute and trampled lifeless; while, again, in the frantic efforts of the animal to be rid of its burden, it seemed that they must both be hurled through the windows of the shops.

Ere long, however, the fury of the horse began to spend itself. And as it did so, with the man still retaining his grasp of the reins, two policemen, stalwart and hardy, and finely-grown men, stepped from the pavement, and, lending their aid at a timely moment, the poor animal was brought under control.

“Well done, my lad,” said the policemen to the half-naked beggar in a kind of generous wonder. “Well done, well done! Are you sure you are all right?”

Among the witnesses of the incident was a tall, bronzed man, with closely-cropped hair, who was dressed with remarkable care, and whose bearing was that of a soldier. At his side was a slight, youthful, handsome woman, who was breathless with excitement.

“Upon my word,” said the man, “that is the best thing I ever saw. That chap deserves a medal.”

The woman, with a strange, dancing brightness in her eyes, looked up wistfully into the face of her companion. “Get him one,” she said.

Stimulated by their generous curiosity, they walked up to the spot where a small crowd was rapidly collecting around the unkempt and extraordinary figure that was almost naked.

“Better take his name and address,” said the tall, bronzed man to the two police constables in a slow and calm voice which caused them to touch their helmets.