y reached the steeper portion of the
hill, he might have saved the day. But he had had very little experience
with runaways, and it had never entered his mind that the sober old team
he drove would ever have spirit enough to take the bit in their teeth
and bolt. That they might some day drop in their shafts and die of old
age would have struck him as likely enough. But here they were, running
like colts, and the shock of it was too much for him.

He grabbed wildly at the reins that had been hanging loosely over the
horses' backs.

"Stop! Whoa, consarn yer!" he yelled, half standing up as he sawed
wildly with the reins. "Burn yer old hides! what in Sam Hill's got inter
yer? Whoa, whoa!"

He was agitated through and through, and his wild yells and feeble
handling of the reins only made the frightened brutes go faster and
faster.

Inside the coach, the passenger was holding on for dear life, as the
coach bumped and swayed from side to side of the road.

"Stop them, pull them in!" he shouted, and put out his hand to grasp
Jed's arm.

The driver shook him off with a savage snarl.

"Leave me alone," he snapped. "What d'yer suppose I'm doin', encouragin'
'em?"

Streaming out behind the runaways came the boys, blazing with
excitement. Most of them at first had seen only the funny side of the
incident. They had howled with delight at the sight of the "old plugs,"
as they irreverently spoke of Jed's horses, rearing up into the air like
frisky two-year-olds, and the frightened antics of Jed himself had added
to their amusement. It was all a huge joke, and they chuckled at the
thought of the story they would have to tell to those who had not been
there to see the fun.

Jim Dabney was fairly doubled up with laughter.

"Take it all back, Teddy," he shouted. "You're some hitter, after all."

"Jiminy, look at those scarecrows dance!" exclaimed Jack Youmans.

"Who'd ever think those old has-beens had so much ginger in 'em,"
commented Tom Davis.

But boys as a rule, though thoughtless, are not malicious, and the
laughter stopped suddenly when they saw that the joke might end in a
tragedy.

Fred, alone of all the boys, had seen from the first this danger.
Quicker witted than the others, he had thought of the hill that lay
before the runaways. But his shout of warning to Teddy had come too late
to stop that impulsive youth, and now the damage was done.

"This way, fellows!" he shouted, as he took a short cut across the