The Crimson Thread by Roy J. Snell

The Crimson Thread by Roy J. Snell

Author:Roy J. Snell
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781634211550
Publisher: Duke Classics


Chapter X - Cordie's Strange Ride

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Twice a day, after Cordie had discovered him, the police horse, Dick, had a lump of sugar—one in the morning and another at noon. And Mounted Officer Patrick O'Hara, very young, quite handsome and somewhat dashing, received a smile with each lump of sugar. It would have been hard to tell which enjoyed his portion the most, Dick or Patrick O'Hara.

Apparently nothing could have pleased Cordie more than this discovery of an old friend. Yes, there was one other thing that would have pleased her much more. She found herself longing for it more and more. Every time she saw the horse she secretly yearned for this privilege.

And then, quite surprisingly, the opportunity came. It was noon. Having come out from the store to give Dick his daily portion, she was surprised to find him standing alone, head down, and patiently waiting. A glance down the street told her there had been an auto collision in the middle of the block; not a serious one probably, as the cars did not seem badly smashed, but of course Patrick O'Hara had gone over there to take down the numbers. Since traffic had been jammed, he had dismounted and walked.

"Wha—what a chance," Cordie breathed, her heart skipping a beat. "Do I dare?"

She looked up at the splendid saddle with its broad circle of brass and other trappings. She studied Dick's smooth, sleek sides.

"I know I shouldn't," she whispered, "but I do so want to. Dick, do you suppose he'd care?"

The temptation was growing stronger. Glancing down the street, she caught a glimpse of Patrick O'Hara's cap above the crowd. His back was turned. The temptation was no longer to be resisted. With a touch and a spring, light as air, Cordie leaped into the saddle.

"Just for old times," she whispered.

She had meant to hover there for an instant, then to leap right down again. But alas for the best laid plans. Old Dick had apparently remembered things about the past which she had quite forgotten, and with a wild snort his head went up, his four feet came together, and with a leap that completely cleared him from the autos that blocked his way, he went tearing down the street.

For a second the girl's head was in a whirl. So unexpected was this mad dash that she was all but thrown from the saddle. Apparently an experienced rider, she regained her balance, clung to the pommel of the saddle for an instant, then gripping the reins, she screamed:

"Whoa, Dick! Whoa! Whoa!"

Had her scream been "Go Dick! Go!" it would not have had a different effect. He simply redoubled his speed.

Then it was that the State Street throng of shoppers viewed a performance that was not on the program and one they would not soon forget—a hatless, coatless girl, hair flying, cheeks aflame, dashing madly down the street astride a sturdy police horse.

Some laughed, some cheered, others gasped in astonishment and fright. A corner policeman leaped for the reins, but missed.



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