THE POLICEMAN AND THE RUNAWAY
This story began at a big public-school crossing on one of the busy avenues of upper New York.
School had just been dismissed and the children were flocking to the sidewalk.
Patrolman Smith of the mounted police was on duty at the crossing, seeing his charges safely across the street.
His horse, Bob, stood saddled at the curb. Bob kept one eye on his master, and one on the children who stopped to pat his nose. Both Bob and his master were great favorites with this school.
“Hurry now, you youngsters; move along there, or you’ll be run over,” ordered Patrolman Smith.
He pretended to be angry, but he wasn’t, not while he smiled so pleasantly.
Suddenly, people were heard shouting a block away. Patrolman Smith saw a runaway horse coming down the avenue, directly upon his flock.
Quickly he got the children to the safety of the sidewalk, just as the horse, attached to a light delivery wagon, dashed madly by.
The next moment, he jumped on Bob’s back and started in pursuit of the runaway horse.
The light wagon bounded over the roadway and swayed from side to side, almost turning over. People lined the sidewalks and shouted encouragement to the pursuer.
Slowly the police horse gained. Bob had pursued runaways before and knew his business. After a chaseof three blocks he was almost alongside. Then something happened.
An automobile, running out of a cross street, struck Bob full in the side and nearly knocked him over. As it was, Officer Smith was thrown to the roadway, fracturing his skull.
Bob was not frightened; he was a police horse. Quietly he took his place by his fallen master and waited.
In spite of his injury, Patrolman Smith quickly remounted and again took up the pursuit. With the aid of another officer he soon stopped the runaway. Then almost before he knew what had happened, he slipped unconscious off Bob’s back into the street.
The other officer took charge of the runaway horse, which was covered with foam and trembling with fright.
Still another officer who came up took care of Bob and saw that he was safely returned to his station.
An ambulance drove up and carried the unconscious Patrolman Smith to the hospital. He was found to be severely injured and had to undergo a serious operation.
On recovering consciousness, as he lay on the hospital cot, his first question was, “Did we get that runaway?”
What do you suppose his second question was?
“Is Bob all right?”
When the nurse answered “yes” to both his questions, he went to sleep again satisfied. He had performed his duty.
His head proved to be so badly hurt that the doctors had to patch it, using for this purpose a little plate of silver.
The thing that pleased him most while he was getting well was the big bouquet of flowers that came from his school.
Some weeks later, the brave officer was discharged from the hospital, cured. One day, to the children’s delight, he appeared again on duty at the crossing.
It was the same Patrolman Smith, spick and span, but thinner and paler. He had lost his sunburn in the hospital.
“Tell us all about everything,” the children cried, crowding around him.
“Take off your cap, please,” said one little fellow, who wanted to see the silver plate the doctors had put in the top of his head.
“Aw, run along now; don’t bother me,” he replied, with a broad smile of pleasure.
His injury was such as might occur to any policeman in his daily work of protecting the people of the city. To him his act of bravery seemed nothing. He had only done his duty as an officer. But the boys and girls knew that their crossing policeman was a hero.