"Yes, a man," continued Benson's father, "_so_ much better than the dray-horse, that knew enough to lift his feet until he lifted the right one. I believe if that horse had the feet of a centipede, he would have gone on lifting them until the dog was released. I tell you, boys, if I could get anyone to help me, I'd start an Animal Rescue Club, to--" But the good gentleman never finished that sentence. The boys were on top of him, round him, under him, clamoring and shouting for him to organize their club for them, to help them study the habits and ways and "thoughts" of animals, to prevent abuse and cruelty towards them. They voted him in as honorary president, and went home that night the happiest-hearted lot of boys in the country. Just before they dispersed, however, a shy little chap named Jimmy Duffy, who had not much opportunity to speak amid the noise of stronger voices, said: "But, Mr. Benson, you _do_ think the dray-horse thought and reasoned, don't you?" "Surely he did, boy! And he spoke, too, in his own simple horse-language, though we cannot understand his tongue; but we should," answered Benson's father. It was not very long before the "Animal Rescue Club" of North Street became known far and wide, and its influence began to be felt in all quarters. The unfeeling drayman whose act of cruelty first gave rise to the organization was watched, then reported to police headquarters, from where he received a sound lecture because of various other ill-treatments of his horse, and after a time he began to see his own unkindness through the same spectacles as the "Animal Rescuers" viewed it, and within two months he became a considerate, gentle driver.