There had been several loud yells of alarm as the low, yellow car turned over and over in the bushes beside the highway. Now, however, as Jack Rover and his uncle approached, there was an ominous silence, the spinning wheels of the machine coming to a sudden stop.
“There is one man!” cried the youthful major, and pointed into some bushes where the legs of an individual were floundering around in the air. A few seconds later the man righted himself and struggled to a nearby tree, dazed and bewildered.
“There is another fellow—under the auto!” came from Sam Rover. “Come on! Let us get him out before the machine has a chance to settle down on him.”
The military training of uncle and nephew stood them in good stead, and they knew exactly what to do in this emergency. Close at hand was a rail fence, and while Sam Rover strained with might and main to keep the yellow car from turning over on the man in the brushwood, Jack obtained a fence rail. Rushing up with this, he propped it against the machine to hold it in place. Then he and his uncle grabbed the unknown man, who was almost unconscious, and dragged him to safety.
“Any more in the auto?” panted Jack, his quick efforts having almost winded him.
“I don’t see any.” Sam Rover turned to the man who was leaning against the tree. “Were there more than two of you?” he questioned.
“No!” bellowed that individual, glaring at the Rovers. “You’ve got us in a fine fix, I must say!” he went on sourly.
“I think you fellows were as much to blame as any one,” answered Sam Rover, curtly. “However, now is no time to quarrel. Your friend seems to be pretty well used up.”
“I don’t think he’s hurt as much as I am,” said the other man, surlily. “I was pitched out right on my head.” He was now rubbing the back of his neck and his left shoulder. “For all I know, something may be broken.”