As Bob drove along, he began to whistle, but presently the whistle died on his lips, as he heard the rush of wheels directly behind him.
He looked back, and saw a horse tearing toward him at a breakneck speed.
Behind the horse was a sulky, and clinging to the seat of this was a bareheaded man, who seemed to be paralyzed with fright.
Bob’s heart jumped into his throat. What was to be done?
“Steer out!” he yelled to the man, as the horse and turn-out came nearer.
“I can’t! Stop the horse!” yelled the occupant of the sulky, in terror.
“I can’t stop him. Steer out or there will be a smash-up,” went on Bob.
The man paid no attention. He had dropped the lines, which were trailing on the horse’s heels, and he did not have courage enough to risk letting go his hold in an endeavor to pick them up.
Bob saw that something must be done, and at once. He caught up his own reins, and at the risk of upsetting his wagon turned in toward the mountain slope.
“Steer out, I tell you!” he cried again. “If you run into me, you’ll be killed.”