The more she tugged at the reins the faster flew Dick’s splendid limbs. He had the bit between his teeth.
Suddenly, as if aggravated by the crowds that threatened to block his way, he whirled to a side street and went dashing toward the Boulevard.
“The Boulevard! Oh, the Boulevard! We will be killed!”
Before them lay the Boulevard where autos, thick as bees in clover, raced forward at twenty miles an hour. What chance could there be of escape?
Trust a horse. While pedestrians stared and screamed in terror, while policemen vainly blew whistles and auto drivers set brakes screaming, Dick, without slackening his pace, raced ahead of a yellow limousine, grazed a black sedan, sent a flivver to the curb, and with one magnificent leap cleared the sidewalk and the low chain at its edge, landing squarely upon the soft, yielding turf of the park.
“Ah, that’s better,” he all but seemed to say. Then, heading south along the narrow park that extended straight away for a mile, he continued his mad career.
Cordie, risking one backward look, gasped in consternation and fear.
“Dick, Dick, you old villain! You’ve got me in for life! Never, never again!”
Three policemen, each mounted on his steed, came dashing after her in mad pursuit.
A straight, broad course lay before them; a pretty enough course to tempt anyone. Seeming to gain new strength from the very touch of it, Dick gripped his bit and fairly flew.