No damage done, I hope."
"No," replied the policeman, "but you want to tie your animal after
this. He might have hurt someone--probably would have if it hadn't
been for this chap. What's your name?" he asked the young farmer.
"Sandy Apgar."
"And where do you live?"
"On Oak Farm."
"Never heard of the place," went on the officer, with a smile.
"Oh, that's the name of our farm. It's jest outside the town of
Beatonville, about forty miles back in Jersey."
"Oh, Jersey!" laughed the officer. "No wonder! Well, there's your
horse, truckman. And now I want your name."
"Can I go, or do I have to appear in court?" asked Sandy Apgar. "I
hope I don't, 'caused I'm in a hurry to git back to the farm. I've
got a passel of work to do there, with the weather coming on the way
it is.
"No, I guess you won't have to go to court," laughed the policeman.
"We're much obliged to you."
"And so am I," added the truckman. "I haven't got any money to give
you, because business is poor----"
"Oh, that's all right," said Sandy with a generous wave of his hand.
"I don't stop runaway horses for a livin'.
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