Larry Barlow's ambition

“Let me go!” cried Larry when he found himself in the hands of the officer of the law.

“I don’t think I will,” answered the bluecoat, grimly.

“Why not? I have done nothing to justify my arrest.”

“He has!” exclaimed Shanner. “He tried to kill me. And he tried to kill Lank Possy too.”

The policeman turned to where Lank Possy was slowly staggering to his feet.

“It—it’s true,” spluttered the bully. “He—he came up behind us with that picket and let us have it before we knew what was happening.”

“They are not telling the truth,” declared Larry, with flashing eyes. “I tackled them with my fists, and it was Shanner there who picked up the picket and I took it away from him.”

“And what right had you to tackle ’em at all?” came from the policeman.

“I had a good right. Last Saturday——”

“Don’t you believe a word he says, Dawson!” interrupted Clarence Shanner.

“I am telling the truth,” burst out our hero. “Four of them tackled me Saturday night and shoved me into the river. I came pretty close to drowning in consequence.”

“Oh, what a—a fairy tale,” came from Lank Possy. “Officer, don’t believe him.”

“You’ll come with me to the station house,” growled the blue coat. “They can listen to your story there.”

Larry’s heart leaped into his throat. If he was locked up what would become of Kate? Then he remembered only too well that Clarence Shanner’s father was wealthy and could easily make out a black case against him.

“I’m not going to jail!” he burst out.

And with a dexterous twist he pulled himself from the policeman’s grasp and ran away as fast as his legs would carry him.

“Stop! Stop!” roared the officer of the law as he started in pursuit. “Stop! It will be best for you!”

“Not today,” returned Larry.

He was making for a side street leading to the wharves, and soon he turned a corner, with the policeman in hot pursuit, and Clarence Shanner and Possy bringing up the rear as well as they were able.

As it was the noon hour, many workmen were on the streets of Ferryville, and some of these joined in the chase.

“He must have stolen something!” said one, and then was raised the cry of “Thief! Stop thief!”

Looking back Larry saw a crowd of at least a dozen coming after him.

He had hoped to escape to the boat, but was now afraid to head in that direction.

“They’ll haul me off before she starts,” he thought dismally.

He was passing an old tumbled-down factory and of a sudden darted into this and passed to the rear.

He heard the crowd gain the front of the place, and then the policeman and several others entered.

What was he to do next? As he asked himself the question he gazed around and espied a long, low shed in the rear of the factory, leading toward the river.

He ran through the shed with all possible speed and emerged upon a tumbledown dock fronting the stream.

He was now nearly a quarter of a mile from where the steamboat for New York started. He looked at the little watch he carried and saw that it lacked six minutes of one o’clock.

“And the boat starts at one,” he groaned. “Can I get there in time?”

With the shouts of those left at the factory still ringing in his ears, he crawled from one dock to another and then leaped to the next dock, a distance of eight feet.

Then he gained a road running along the river and started on a dead run for the steamboat landing.

As he came in sight of the boat her whistle began to blow and the deck hands began to cast off the lines.

“Hi! stop!” he called out.

“Hurry up if you are going,” was the answer, as the deck hand threw the last line off.

“Kate, where are you?” he called out, and then saw his sister at the end of the dock, looking anxiously for him.

“Oh, Larry, where have you been?” she cried, but instead of answering he bundled her on board and quickly followed. In a second more the steamboat left the dock, and the journey to the metropolis was begun.

“I was so afraid you’d be left,” went on Kate, as he led her into the cabin. “What kept you?”

“I’ll tell you as soon as I can get back my wind,” he panted, and he did not attempt to say more for several minutes.

When she heard his story she was naturally much disturbed.

“I don’t blame you for what you did, Larry,” she said. “But what will they do? They may send word on to New York.”

“I don’t think they will, although I’ll be on my guard when we arrive and try to get off the boat with as little notice as possible. I guess after Shanner and Possy think it over they’ll be afraid to enter a formal complaint against me.”

“It is they who should be arrested.”

“You’re right, Kate; but we don’t always get justice in this world, you know,” he answered.

The trip down the river was a pleasant one, and both would have enjoyed it very much had it not been for the cloud hanging in their minds.

But their fears of Larry’s arrest in New York were groundless. No one came to the steamboat dock after them, and that night saw them settled in the little flat our hero had rented. Mrs. Morrison and Willie gave them a warm welcome, and the former invited them to take supper with her, which invitation was readily accepted.

The next week was a busy one for our hero. He entered the school of instruction for firemen and was kept at work early and late learning how to do his duty under any and all circumstances.

“You’re all right, Barlow,” said one of his instructors. “You took that leap into the net most beautifully.”

“It was dead easy alongside of what I once had to take,” replied Larry.

This interested the instructor, and he asked for particulars, and our hero showed him the account which he had cut from the pictorial weekly.

“Well, no wonder, Barlow!” exclaimed the instructor. “You are one of the firemen that are born, not made. I don’t doubt but what you’ll make a big record for yourself when you get to work.”

“I shall certainly try,” answered Larry.