been at a standstill.

[Illustration: HE JOTTED DOWN THE NUMBER]

"Jersey car! Dey'll beat it fer across de river," said he as he jotted
down the number in his note-book. "Did yer pipe dere monikers? Oi'd know
dem in a tousand! Now let's see wot happened to de others."

They started on a run for the overturned car and as they drew near the
sound of moaning from the wreck gave wings to their feet. A small
touring car was bottom up at the side of the road, a rear wheel off at
one side. Half among the bushes and half in the road lay the body of a
young woman, whether dead or simply unconscious they did not take time
to find out. If dead there was nothing for them to do. If unconscious
she could receive attention later. The moans from beneath the wrecked
car told them that there was where aid was needed first.

The driver, a middle-aged man, was pinned under the steering post, which
was bent and rested across his chest in such a way that while the full
weight of the car did not fall on it, still it was crushing in the ribs
on one side. One leg was doubled under him in a way that denoted a bad
break. His face was badly cut by the glass of the wind-shield and what
was worse, the crimson stream gushing in little spurts from a jagged
gash on one arm, fortunately thrust beyond the edge of the car,
proclaimed a severed artery.

That must be stopped immediately at all costs, before any attempt was
made to get the man out, or he would bleed to death. Both boys saw this
on the instant, and without a word Pat stooped and gripped the arm
above the cut, bringing to bear all the strength of his powerful
fingers. The effect was immediately apparent. The wound still bled, but
no longer in those fateful jets. Sparrer meanwhile had snatched off his
neckerchief and was preparing a tourniquet. From a shrub by the roadside
he cut a stout stick a foot long, then hastily made search for a smooth
pebble. Finding none he started to feel in his pockets for some small
object that would serve his purpose when his alert glance fell on Pat's
mackinaw. Whipping out his knife once more he cut one of the big smooth
buttons from the mackinaw. Tying the handkerchief loosely around the
injured arm just above where Pat was gripping it he slipped the button
in so that it rested directly on the artery. Then putting the stick
under the handkerchief on the outer side he rapidly twisted it until the
pressure of the button on the artery was sufficient to stop