They came to Cornhill. A car was coming down from Scollay Square, and they paused close to it to let it swing out upon Washington Street.
Just as the front of the car approached, Frank Merriwell received a push from behind that sent him flat upon the track directly in front of the car wheels!
That particular car did not have a fender, and it seemed that Frank must be mangled beneath the wheels. The motorman saw the lad go down and put on the brake hard, but he could not stop the car in time.
Frank realized that he had been pushed upon the track by some one whose deliberate purpose it was to maim or murder him, but he could not save himself. He struck the paving, and the iron wheels seemed right upon him.
But Jack Diamond moved with marvelous quickness. He made a grasp at Frank as the latter fell, almost caught him, then stooped, grasped his coat and yanked Merry from the track.
The car brushed Frank as it passed, but he was not injured.
"Thank you, old man," said Merriwell, as he quickly rose to his feet. "You saved me that time. But who pushed me?"
They looked about. A small crowd had witnessed Frank's peril and gathered. In the crowd was a person slipping away. With a bound Frank was after him,
caught him by the shoulder, swung him to get a look at his face.
"Get out!"