Just then Carolyn May unsnapped the leash from Prince’s collar and let him go. “Save Miss Minnie, Princey!” she cried after the charging dog. Prince did not trouble about the door. The open window, through which the tramp had spied upon the schoolmistress, was nearer. He went up the wall and scrambled over the sill with a savage determination that left no doubt whatever in the tramp’s mind. With a yell of terror, the fellow bounded out of the door and tore along the road and through The Corners at a speed never before equalled in that locality by a Knight of the Road. Prince lost a little time in recovering his footing and again getting on the trail of the fleeing tramp. But he was soon baying the fellow past the blacksmith shop and the store. The incident called the entire population of The Corners, save the bedridden, to the windows and doors. For once the little, somnolent village awoke, and, as before pointed out, a Prince awoke it. Hiram Lardner, the blacksmith, declared afterwards that “you could have played checkers on that tramp’s coat tails, providin’ you could have kep’ up with him.” When Prince came back from the chase, however, the tramp’s coat tails would never serve as a checkerboard, for the dog bore one of them in his foam-flecked jaws as a souvenir. CHAPTER X—A SUNDAY WALK Really, if Prince had been a vain dog, his ego would certainly have become unduly developed because of this incident. The Corners, as a community, voted him an acquisition, whereas heretofore he had been looked upon as a good deal of a nuisance. After she recovered from her fright, Miss Minnie walked home with Carolyn May and allowed Prince’s delighted little mistress to encourage the “hero” to “shake hands with teacher.” “Now, you see, he’s acquainted with you, Miss Minnie,” said Carolyn May. “He’s an awful nice dog. You didn’t know just how nice he was before. But I _am_ glad he didn’t really bite that dirty-looking old tramp, Miss Minnie. I expect it would have made Prince sick. And I’m going to take that piece of his old coat and bury it in the garden.” Even Mr. Stagg had a good word at last to say for Prince; for he had been coming home to supper at the moment the dog chased the thievish tramp through the village. “We have too many of that gentry here because of the railroad. I wish he’d chase ’em all out of town,” declared the hardware dealer. Besides, he profited by the incident. The very next day Miss Minnie came into his store and bought one of the very nicest dog collars he had in stock—a green leather one with brass rivet heads studding it and a shiny nameplate. The silversmith, Mr. Murchiston, took almost a week to engrave on it: _Prince_ _For a Brave Deed_