He turned the boy who had collided with Ned over.
“Noddy Nixon!” he said. “He’ll be sure to say this was Ned’s fault, and it may make trouble. I wish Ned had put on his brake.”
Ned sat up and opened his eyes. A few seconds later Noddy Nixon did likewise.
“What happened?” gasped Ned, rubbing the dust from his eyes.
“You had a little spill, that’s all,” answered Bob.
“A little spill? I should say we did,” snarled Noddy, who was larger and stronger than any of the three chums, and older, being about eighteen. “A nasty little spill it was, too. And all your fault, Ned Slade! Why didn’t you look where you were going?”
“Why didn’t you look?” asked Ned, hotly. “I turned out to avoid you, and if you’d been paying attention you wouldn’t have steered right into me. It’s as much your fault as it is mine.”
“My leg’s broke,” came from Noddy. “You’ll suffer for this!”
“Get up and let’s see if it’s broken,” urged Bob, taking hold of Noddy’s shoulder.