What followed was a nightmare. Policemen seemed to leap from every nook and corner. Whistles were blowing. Cops were shouting. Pedestrians on the sidewalk and in the middle of the street were yelling. Even motormen on the surface cars were clanging their bells. The world seemed to have suddenly rushed to the conclusion that this crazy horse car relic of old New York had fallen into the hands of a speed-mad lunatic, and probably a criminal to boot! Fortunately all this agitation was still in Speedy's wake.
He swung into a crosstown street, seeking quieter climes, attempting to shake off the pursuit. But when he returned to Broadway the hue and cry was apparently still raging. But now he was nearing his goal! He cut eastward toward De Lacey, the hoofs of the pursuing mounted cop's horse rattling in his rear, seemingly synchronized by some unseen cue artist with the flying feet of Nellie. Pop Dillon's horse car was creaking and groaning. Speedy wondered wildly if it would really hold together until he reached the Crosstown Railways. If only he could make that one trip and save the franchise, they could send him to jail if they wanted to! If he only had time to stop and catch his breath, he knew he could explain everything. But to do that would be fatal, would take precious minutes. Speed! Speed! "Come on, Nellie! Only a few blocks more!"
The Elevated Railway span of the Bowery loomed in the near distance. He reached that renowned highway and hurtled into it. He was nearing his
