The sudden interruption to the Dreadnought Boys’ conversation had come from beyond a curve in the drive, where trees and flowering shrubs shut out from view its continuation.
“Look! Ned, look!” cried Herc suddenly, gripping his companion’s arm excitedly.
Ned’s heart gave a bound as around the curve there suddenly swept into view a stirring but alarming picture. On the back of a large, spirited chestnut horse, which was clearly beyond control, was seated a young woman whose white face and terrified cries indicated plainly that her mount was running away. Behind her, whirling in their upraised hands lassos of plaited rawhide, like those used by cowboys, came two mounted park policemen. But their horses, fast animals though they were, could not gain sufficiently on the runaway to enable them to throw their ropes and check his career.
Aroused by the screams of the young woman and the shouts of the policemen, people came running from all directions. Their cries only served, as did those of the pursuing officers, further to alarm the runaway. With glaring eyes and distended nostrils it thundered on with its rider clinging desperately to her saddle, from which she was threatened with being thrown any minute.
A low railing separated the drive from the pathway on which the boys stood, but Ned was over it in a bound. Before Herc realized what his chum and shipmate meant to do, Ned was standing in the middle of the drive crouched as if making ready for a supreme effort. The runaway, oblivious to all but its wild terror, came down on him like a whirlwind. But Ned, who had been brought up on a farm and knew no fear of horses, awaited its coming without betraying a sign of agitation.
In another second it was upon him. Concentrating every ounce of energy he possessed on the daring act he contemplated, Ned shot upward and grabbed for the bridle of the flying beast.
“He’ll be killed!” shouted the crowd excitedly.
Herc said nothing, but with white face, on which his freckles stood out like sun-spots, leaned forward open-mouthed as his chum made his daring tackle.
“He’s got him! Oh, good boy, Ned! Hooray!” cried Herc, capering about as Ned’s hands closed on the horse’s bridle.
But Herc’s rejoicing was rather premature. The next instant it was changed to a groan of dismay as the horse, brought to a sudden stop, reared straight up, beating the air with its forefeet, while Ned, hanging on like a cockle burr to the bridle, was swung pendulum-wise through the air.