"We'll all be killed!" quavered Professor Scotch.
Into Canal Street rushed the crowd, and the procession was broken up in a moment. The one thought of everybody seemed to be to get out of the way of the steers.
The horses on the flower barge became unmanageable, turned short, snorting with terror, and upset the barge, spilling flowers, girls, and all into the street. Then, in some way, the animals broke away, leaving the wrecked barge where it had toppled.
The girls, with one exception, sprang up and fled in every direction.
The one exception was the Queen of Flowers, who lay motionless and apparently unconscious in the street, with the beautiful flowers piled on every side of her.
"She is hurt!" cried Frank, who was watching her. "Why doesn't some one pick her up?"
"They do not see her there amid the flowers," palpitated the professor. "They do not know she has not fled with the other girls!"
"The cattle—the steers will crush her!" shouted the driver.
"Not if I can save her!" rang out the clear voice of our hero.
Professor Scotch made a clutch at the lad, but too late to catch and hold him.