ng? I wonder if we've got time?"

"We'll make time!" cried Joe grimly. "Get her out, and we'll ride
for all we're worth. It'll be a race, Blake!"

"Yes. A race to save a life! Lucky she's got plenty of gas and oil
in her."

"Yes, and she hasn't had a chance to cool down. Run her out."

Blake fairly leaped toward the shed where he had wheeled the motor
cycle. In another instant he and Joe were trundling it down the
gravel walk to the road.

As they reached the highway they could hear, growing fainter and
fainter, the "thump-thud," of the hoofs of the runaway horse.

Joe held the machine upright while Blake vaulted to the forward
saddle and began to work the pedals to start the motor. The
cylinders were still hot from the recent run, and at the first
revolution the staccato explosions began.

"Jump up!" yelled Blake in his chum's ear--shouting above the
rattle and bang of the exhaust, for the muffler was open.

Joe sprang to leather, but before he was in his seat Blake was
letting in the friction clutch, and a moment later, at ever
gathering speed, the shining motor cycle was speeding down the
road to the rescue. Would Joe and Blake be in time?

CHAPTER II

ON THE BRINK

"What--what's your plan, Blake?" yelled Joe into
his chum's ear, as he sat behind him on the jolting second saddle
of the swaying motor cycle.

"What do you mean?" demanded Blake, half turning his head.

"I mean how are you going to stop that runaway, or rescue those
fellows?"

"I haven't thought, yet, but if we can get ahead of the horse we
may be able to stop him before he gets to the road-barrier or to
the dangerous turn."

"That's right!" panted Joe, the words being fairly jolted out of
him. "Head him off--I see!"

"Hold fast!" exclaimed Blake, as the conductor does when a trolley
car goes around a curve. "Hold fast!"

There was need of the advice, for a little turn in the road was
just ahead of them and Blake intended to take it at almost top
speed.

Bumping, swaying, jolting, spitting fire and smoke, with a rattle,
clatter and bang, on rushed the motor cycle on its errand of
rescue.

"Hark!" cried Joe, close to Blake's ear, "Listen!"

"Can't, with all this racket!" yelled back Blake, for he had
opened the throttle to gain a little increase of power. "What's
the matter?"

"I thought I heard the horse."

"Hearing him won't do any good," observed Blake grimly. "We've got
to see him and get ahead!"

And he turn