Tom Swift and His Motor-Cycle | Page 7

try to catch him!" for the woman was standing up in front of the seat
and leaning forward, as if about to leap from the wagon.
"She's lost her head," thought Tom. "No wonder! That's a skittish
horse."
Faster and faster he rode, bending all his energies to overtake the
animal. The wagon was swaying from side to side, and more than once
the woman just saved herself from being thrown out by grasping the
edge of the seat. She found that her standing position was a dangerous
one and crouched on the bottom of the swaying vehicle.
"That's better!" shouted Tom, but it is doubtful if she heard him, for the
rattling of the wagon and the hoofbeats of the horse drowned all other
sounds. "Sit still!" he shouted. "I'll stop the horse for you!"
Trying to imagine himself in a desperate race, in order to excite himself
to greater speed, Tom continued on. He was now even with the
tail-board of the wagon, and slowly creeping up. The woman was all
huddled up in a lump.
"Grab the reins! Grab the reins!" shouted Tom. "Saw on the bit! That
will stop him!"
The occupant of the wagon turned to look at the lad. Tom saw that she
was a handsome young lady. "Grab the reins!" he cried again. "Pull
hard!"

"I--I can't!" she answered frightenedly. "They have dropped down! Oh,
do please stop the horse! I'm so--so frightened!"
"I'll stop him!" declared the youth firmly, and he set his teeth hard.
Then he saw the reason the fair driver could not grasp the lines. They
had slipped over the dashboard and were trailing on the ground.
The horse was slacking speed a bit now, for the pace was telling on his
wind. Tom saw his opportunity, and with a sudden burst of energy was
at the animal's head. Steering his wheel with one hand, with the other
the lad made a grab for the reins near the bit. The horse swerved
frightenedly to one side, but Tom swung in the same direction. He
grasped the leather and then, with a kick, he freed himself from the
bicycle, giving it a shove to one side. He was now clinging to the reins
with both hands, and, being a muscular lad and no lightweight, his bulk
told.
"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."
This reminded the young inventor of his bicycle, and making sure that
the horse would not start up again, he went to where his wheel and his
cap lay. He found that the only damage to the bicycle was a few bent
spokes, and, straightening them and having again apologized to the
young woman, receiving in turn her pardon and thanks, and learning
that her name was Mary Nestor, Tom once more resumed his trip. The
wagon followed him at a distance, the horse evincing no desire now to
get out of a slow amble.
"Well, things are certainly happening to me to-day," mused Tom as he
pedaled on. "That might have been a serious runaway if there'd been
anything in the road."
Tom did not stop to think that he had been mainly instrumental in
preventing a bad accident, as he had been the innocent cause of starting
the runaway, but Tom was ever a modest lad. His arms were wrenched
from jerking on the bridle, but he did not mind that much, and bent
over