"By ginger! this is awful!" gasped Don. "That little girl will be thrown out and killed."
"Can't we stop the horses?" questioned Bob. "We must do it somehow!" he added, with sudden determination.
The chums had been walking along the side of the highway, but now Bob ran out directly in the path of the oncoming team.
"Be careful, Bob!" yelled Don, but, nevertheless, he followed his chum, at the same time pulling off the light jacket he wore over his outing shirt.
Bob set his teeth hard. Half a dozen people were yelling at him, but it is doubtful if he heard a word of the advice. His one thought was centered on the little girl and what he might do to save the creature. "I must do it," he muttered. "I must!"
On and on came the team, carriage drivers and bicyclists losing no time in getting out of the way, so that they themselves might escape injury. In such a moment, "self-preservation is the first law of nature," to nine out of every ten human beings.
Whizz! It was Don's coat that flew forth, just as the team ranged up almost in front of him. The youth's aim was good, for the garment shot past the nose of the nearest steed, to land on the head of the second, thus momentarily checking the mad dash of the pair.
