"Sit--still!" panted our hero to the young woman, who had arisen to
the seat. "I'll have him stopped in half a minute now!"
It was in less time than that, for the horse, finding it impossible
to shake off the grip of Tom, began to slow from a gallop to a trot,
then to a canter, and finally to a slow walk. A moment later the
horse had stopped, breathing heavily from his run.
"There, there, now!" spoke Tom soothingly. "You're all right, old
fellow. I hope you're not hurt"--this to the young lady--and Tom
made a motion to raise his cap, only to find that it had blown off.
"Oh, no--no; I'm more frightened than hurt."
"It was all my fault," declared the young inventor. "I should not
have swung into the road so suddenly. My bicycle alarmed your
horse."
"Oh, I fancy Dobbin is easily disturbed," admitted the fair driver.
"I can't thank you enough for stopping him. You saved me from a bad
accident."
"It was the least I could do. Are you all right now?" and he handed
up the dangling reins. "I think Dobbin, as you call him, has had
enough of running," went on Tom, for the horse was now quiet.
"I hope so. Yes, I am all right. I trust your wheel is not damaged.
If it is, my father, Mr. Amos Nestor, of Mansburg, will gladly pay
for its repair.
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