"Whoa!" echoed Mun Bun, and he smiled at the officer.
"Where are you going?" asked Mr. Mulligan.
"I'm having a ride," said Mun Bun. "The junkman is at my Aunt Jo's house, and I got up on the seat and I'm having a ride!"
"Land love us! And look at the size of him!" murmured the cook, who had followed the policeman.
"He is little," said the policeman. "But you'd better get down, my little man. You might fall off."
"I had a nice ride, anyhow," said Mun Bun, as the policeman lifted him down from the wagon.
"But now I've got to find out where you live, and who owns this rig," went on the officer.
"The idea of him drivin' off with it all alone—the likes of him!" murmured the wondering cook.
"Oh, he's a smart little chap!" said the policeman, smiling at Mun Bun. "But, unless I'm mistaken, here comes the real junkman. He looks worried, too."
Around the corner of the street came the man who had been talking to William in Aunt Jo's yard. He was running hard, and his hat had fallen off.