IT WAS ONE OF THOSE tiny foreign jobs that run on practically no gas at all. It stopped beside him and two men got out. Young men with lined, tired faces; they wore policemen’s uniforms. “You broke regulations, Mr. Burr. You’ll have to come with us.”
He nodded. He wanted to. He wanted to be taken care of. He turned toward Plum.
The other officer was walking around the horse. “Rode her hard,” he said, and he sounded real worried. “Shouldn’t have done that, Mr. Burr. We have so very few now....”
The officer holding Harry’s arm said, “Pete.”
The officer examining Plum said, “It won’t make any difference in a while.”
Harry looked at both of them, and felt sharp, personal fear.
“Take the horse back to his farm,” the officer holding Harry said. He opened the door of the little car and push
