ON THE BRINK

"What--what's your plan, Blake?" yelled Joe into
his chum's ear, as he sat behind him on the jolting second saddle
of the swaying motor cycle.

"What do you mean?" demanded Blake, half turning his head.

"I mean how are you going to stop that runaway, or rescue those
fellows?"

"I haven't thought, yet, but if we can get ahead of the horse we
may be able to stop him before he gets to the road-barrier or to
the dangerous turn."

"That's right!" panted Joe, the words being fairly jolted out of
him. "Head him off--I see!"

"Hold fast!" exclaimed Blake, as the conductor does when a trolley
car goes around a curve. "Hold fast!"

There was need of the advice, for a little turn in the road was
just ahead of them and Blake intended to take it at almost top
speed.

Bumping, swaying, jolting, spitting fire and smoke, with a rattle,
clatter and bang, on rushed the motor cycle on its errand of
rescue.

"Hark!" cried Joe, close to Blake's ear, "Listen!"