Gallegher stood with
one foot on the hub of the wheel and with the other on the box waiting
to spring. It seemed a minute before either of them moved, and then
the officer took a step forward, and demanded sternly, "Who is that?
What are you doing there?"
There was no time for parley then. Gallegher felt that he had been
taken in the act, and that his only chance lay in open flight. He
leaped up on the box, pulling out the whip as he did so, and with a
quick sweep lashed the horse across the head and back. The animal
sprang forward with a snort, narrowly clearing the gate-post, and
plunged off into the darkness.
"Stop!" cried the officer.
So many of Gallegher's acquaintances among the 'longshoremen and mill
hands had been challenged in so much the same manner that Gallegher
knew what would probably follow if the challenge was disregarded. So
he slipped from his seat to the footboard below, and ducked his head.
The three reports of a pistol, which rang out briskly from behind him,
proved that his early training had given him a valuable fund of useful
miscellaneous knowledge.
"Don't you be scared," he said, reassuringly, to the horse; "he's
firing in the air.
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