"We've got to do something!" cried Blake.

"Yes, but what?" asked Joe.

"We've got to save them!" cried Blake again, as he thought of the
two men in the carriage. He had had a glimpse of their faces as
the vehicle, drawn by the frenzied horse, swept past him on the
road below. One of the men he knew to be employed in the only
livery stable of Central Falls, on the outskirts of which he and
Joe were spending their holiday. The other man was a stranger.
Blake had only seen that he was a young man, rather good-looking,
and of a foreign cast of countenance. Blake had momentarily put
him down for an Italian.

"The motor cycle!" suddenly cried Joe.

"What?" asked Blake, only half comprehending.

"We might overtake them on the motor cycle!" repeated his chum.

A look of understanding came into Blake's eyes.

"That's right!" he cried. "Why didn't I think of that before,
instead of standing here mooning? I wonder if we've got time?"

"We'll make time!" cried Joe grimly. "Get her out, and we'll ride
for all we're worth. It'll be a race, Blake!"

"Yes. A race to save a life! Lucky she's got plenty of gas and oil