"Pull him in!" he cried. "Pull on the lines! Don't let your horse run away!" Puss tugged at the reins, but the Good Gray Horse had the bit between his teeth. He stuck out his head and tail and let his feet fly. Over the stones bumped the wagon, up on one side and then down on the other. Poor Puss had all he could do to keep from falling out, and the little old man clung to the side boards and cried, "Pull on the lines!" "I am," panted Puss, "but it doesn't do any good." "Pull harder!" yelled the little old man. "Can't," replied Puss, now breathless from the bumping of the wagon. "Can't pull one little bit harder." "Turn him in yonder lane!" screamed the little old man. "That's my lane! It leads into the barnyard." Well, it was mighty lucky that Puss managed to turn up the lane, and in another moment they were racing into the yard, but before Puss could stop him the Good Gray Horse went head first into the haymow and headlong over the dashboard went Puss and the little old man. THE HAYMOW IT was a mighty lucky thing that the Good Gray Horse in the last story ran into the haymow instead of the corncrib. Well, as soon as Puss picked himself up the Good Gray Horse pulled his head out of the haymow. He had gone in quite deep, for he was going at a great rate, and it's a wonder he didn't go right through the great mound of hay. "Whew! Miew!" cried Puss, pulling wisps of hay out of his hair and dusting off the tops of his red boots. "That was a pretty sudden stop!" "Yes, but it turned out all right," said the little old man. "It was about the best way to stop your horse, methinks. It was lucky there was hay in the way, I should say." "How could you be such a bad old thing?" asked Puss, stroking the Good Gray Horse on the nose. "The idea of your running away with us!" The Good Gray Horse made no reply, however. He looked a little foolish, but, beyond that, he seemed very much the same, except that his collar was pushed up over his ears and his harness twisted about his neck. "Well, put him in the stable," said the little old man. "We'll give him a good bed and some oats. My own horse may show up some time this evening--that is, if he ever gets tired of running." [Illustration] After the Good Gray Horse was made comfortable the little old man led Puss, Junior, into the house. "Mother," he called out, as he opened the door, "here is a visitor for you." A queer little old woman arose from her rocking chair and came forward. "What! a cat!" she exclaimed, throwing up her hands in dismay. "John, you know I don't like cats!" "Then, madam," said Puss, Junior, politely, "I'll not trespass on your hospitality," and he turned to leave. "Not so, not so!" cried the little old man. "Mother, you don't understand what has happened. This noble cat has done me a good turn. My old mare ran away and he kindly hitched up his Good Gray Horse to my wagon and brought me home."