cop let him pass amid the jeers, sarcastic cheers and wise cracks of the people on the corner.
A half block further along Providence apparently had planted Speedy's salvation.
A huge painted sign proclaimed "Cohen's Uniform Shop." The sidewalk outside this gaudy emporium seemed to be cluttered up with policemen, firemen and subway conductors. Speedy's roving eye caught sight of this strange array. He looked more closely. He yelled "Whoa!" to Nellie and stopped. To scurry across the street to the shop front was the work of only an instant. He grabbed up one of the dummy wax figures displaying the official uniform of a New York policeman and dashed back to the car. Mounting his platform and holding the blue-coated wax-mannikin with one hand, he seized the lines with the other and urged Nellie into a swifter run. He cast one swift glance backward. Enough to tell him that the proprietor of the store had spotted the theft and was now standing outside, bare-headed, shouting and wildly gesticulating. Speedy decided that he had better get out of there quickly. Nellie started madly to gallop.
At the next corner Speedy held his breath. Would his stratagem work? Paying no heed to the cop's lifted hand, he pointed frantically to the figure of the dummy policeman beside him on the platform, indicating that he was speeding along on a very special mission under police protection. The real policeman standing in the middle of the street looked uncertain and bewildered. He was only partially deceived. But Speedy was again fortunate. He had
