The people gasped
at the daring of the man who had not waited to think. It was over in a
second. As Patches swept by the child, he leaned low from the saddle;
and, as the next leap of his horse carried him barely clear of the
machine, they saw his tall, lithe body straighten, as he swung the baby
up into his arms.
Then, indeed, the crowd went wild. Men yelled and cheered; women laughed
and cried; and, as the cowboy returned the frightened baby to the
distressed mother, a hundred eager hands were stretched forth to greet
him. But the excited horse backed away; someone raised the rope barrier,
and Patches disappeared down the side street.
Helen's eyes were wet, but she was smiling. "No," she said softly to
Kitty and Stanford, "that was _not_ Lawrence Knight. Poor old Larry
never could have done that."
It was a little after the noon hour when Kitty, who, with her father,
mother and brothers, had been for dinner at the home of one of their
Prescott friends, was crossing the plaza on her way to join Mr. and Mrs.
Manning, with whom she was to spend the afternoon. In a less frequented
corner of the little park, back of the courthouse, she saw Patches.
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