Fred's best chums. Not a great while back he had fallen into what he called a "peck of trouble, with the pot boiling over," and Fred had been of great help to him. In fact, had it not been for him the mystery of who was taking some of Miss Muster's opals might never have been cleared up; and the elderly spinster, who was Bristles' mother's aunt, must have always believed that her grand-nephew was the guilty one.

But Fred had proved otherwise. He had even been smart enough to have the rich old maid on the spot when Gabe Larkins, the butcher's hired boy, was secreting his last bit of plunder. In her gratitude at finding that the culprit was not her own nephew, Miss Muster had even forgiven Gabe, who had promised to turn over a new leaf.

Somehow the thoughts of Bristles seemed to go back to several things which had happened to himself and Fred not a great while previous.

"That was a great time we had, Fred," he went on to say, as they fell into a walk, with a hill to climb; "I mean when we worked in double harness, and ran up against so many queer adventures last summer, in boat-racing time. Remember how we managed to rescue little Billy Lemington when he fell out of his brother's canoe; and how he begged us not to tell a single soul, because his father would whip him for disobeying?"

"Do you think Buck ever knew the truth of that canoe business?" remarked Fred. "I recollect your telling me he accused you of taking his canoe, and using it, because some fellow saw us putting it back in the place he kept it, and reported to Buck. And he was some mad, too, threatening all sorts of things if ever we touched his boat again."

"Say, d'ye know, between you and me and the henhouse, Fred, I don't believe he's ever heard the truth about that little affair to this day!" exclaimed Bristles, earnestly. "Want to know why I say that, do you? Well, just yesterday he threw it at me. We were with some fellows on the school campus, when the talk turned to canoes, and I happened to say I knew mighty little about the cranky things, as I'd had no experience in one."

"Oh! I can see how ready Buck would be to take advantage of that opening, and give you one of his sneering stabs with his tongue," observed Fred, quickly.

"Just what he did, Fred," asserted the other, frowning; "he turned on me like a flash, and remarked that he guessed I forgot a certain occasion when I had enjoyed one canoe ride, anyhow, if it was in a stolen boat. I came mighty near telling the whole thing, how we had saved his little brother from drowning, or at least how you had, while I helped get you both ashore. But I stopped myself just in time, and let it pass by."

"Well," Fred went on to say, looking around at the dusty road they had just reached; "here's where we draw in close again to Riverport, to strike off again on the second leg of the run after we pass the Hitchen hotel at the crossroads. I suppose I ought not to keep on, with my toe hurting as it does; but you know I just hate to give up anything I start. Perhaps I'll be game enough to hold out to the end; and, besides, the pain seems to be passing off lately. I could even sprint a little, if I had to."

"Too late now to dream of heading off Colon, who has kept on the jump right along, while we took things easy. But I always like to be with you, Fred. You're a cheery sort of a feller, you know; and I feel better every time I chat with you."

Poor Fred,—who was secretly nursing deep anxiety to his heart, not willing to confide in even his best friends, lest in some way Squire Lemington get wind of the fact that they had heard from Hiram Masterson,—winced, and then smiled. Well, if he could put on a cheerful front, in spite of all that tried to weigh his spirits down, so much the better.

"We must turn at the crossroads, Bristles," he remarked. "The course heads into the northwest from there, up to Afton's pond; then due east two miles to Watch Hill; where we turn again and follow the turnpike home again."

"Oh! I guess I can stand for it, if you keep me company all the way, Fred; though I never was built for a runner, I reckon. But listen to all that shouting; would you? Some feller is excited, it sounds like. There, just what I expected was the matter; there's a horse taken the bit between his teeth, and is running away. I can see a boy sprinting after him, and that's his voice we get. Now, I wonder what it's up to us to do; step aside and let the runaway nag pass by; or try something to stop him? What say, Fred; can we block the road, and make him hold up, without taking too much risk?"

CHAPTER II

A STRANGE SOUND FROM A WELL

"Hi! there! Stop that horse! Head him off!"

The excited boy who was chasing wildly along in the rear of the runaway shouted these words as he waved his arms to the two lads coming so suddenly on the scene.

"Why, it's Gabe Larkins, as sure as you live!" ejaculated Bristles, recognizing the boy who drove the butcher's cart, and who had been concerned in the affair of Miss Muster's vanishing opals.

"Never mind who the boy is!" Fred called out; "if we want to head that runaway off we've got to be moving. Stand over there, wave your arms and shout 'Whoa!' as loud as you can. I'll try to cover this side of the road and do the same. The beast has just taken a notion to bolt home, that's all, and isn't badly frightened. We may be able to stop him right here."

"How far do we go, Fred?" cried Bristles, who was always ready and willing to do his share of any exciting business.

"Be careful, and keep ready to jump aside if he refuses to let up on his speed, Bristles."

"All right; I'm on, Fred!" And with that Bristles started to make as great and hostile a demonstration with arms and voice as he was capable of exhibiting.

His chum was doing likewise; so that between them they seemed to entirely block the road. The runaway horse was, as Fred had said, not worked up to the frantic stage where nothing would stay his progress. Indeed, seeing that these determined figures in running costume acted as though they meant to keep him from passing, the beast gradually slackened his pace.

The butcher's cart came to a standstill not twenty feet away from the boys; and the animal even started to back up into a fence corner, when the driver arrived on the scene, and took hold of the trailing lines. After that he soon gained the mastery over the horse.

"Got the slip on you that time, did he, Gabe?" remarked Fred, pleasantly; for he had been given to understand by Miss Muster, who was keeping track of the boy, that Gabe Larkins was doing what he could to make good; and Fred believed in extending a helping hand to every fellow who wanted to better his ways.

"Oh! he's a slick one, I tell you, fellers!" declared the panting and angered boy, as he reined in the animal that had given him such a scare and a race. "Nine times out of ten I tie him when I go to deliver meat. He knows when I forget, and this is the fourth time he's run away on me. Smashed a wheel once, and nigh 'bout scraped all the paint off'n one side of the pesky cart another time. Old Bangs says as how he means to fire me if it ever happens again."

"Well, we're right glad, then, Gabe, that we've been able to keep you from losing your job," Fred went on to say. "But that horse has a trick of going off if he isn't tied. I've heard about him before, and the trouble he gave the boy who was ahead of you. If I was driving him I'd never leave him unfastened."

"And I ain't a-goin' to no more, you just make sure of that!" Gabe declared, as no doubt he had done after every