desperately at his companion's heels.

The car set up a roar of laughter at the ludicrous sight.
To Phil, however, it was no laughing matter. The paste can
was nearly full of paste and of about the same consistency
as dough in a bread pan. It was thick and wickedly blue,
for it had been mixed with bluestone to preserve it until
required by the billposters.

"Pull him out, you idiots!" bellowed the car manager. "If he
isn't dead now, he can't be killed. Pull him out and throw
him overboard!"

Phil flashed an indignant look at Mr. Snowden.

By this time others had come to his assistance. It required
their united efforts to rescue Teddy from his
perilous predicament.

They hauled him out and laid him on the door.

"Teddy, Teddy!" cried Phil, but Tucker made no reply. In the
first place his mouth was so full of paste that he could not
utter a sound. Again, he was half unconscious, nearly smothered
and still unable to breathe freely.

Phil grabbed off the jacket of his own pajamas and began wiping
the blue paste from the unfortunate lad's mouth, eyes and nose.

A happy thought appeared to strike the car manager. He dashed to