ugh he was dizzy from the concussion, Darry displayed
the coolest head of any of them in the first few moments.

"Where's Dick?" he called, when he saw the others accounted for.
Then Dave wrenched off one of the lamps, holding it to aid his
vision.

"There he is!" shouted Darrin, as his foot touched something.
"His head is under water. Up with him, quickly!"

Dave brought the rays of the lantern to bear more directly, while
Simmons sprang to the rescue. Greg, too, joined in.

"He's pinned down by the car!" gasped Deputy Simmons after finding
Prescott's submerged body and giving it a hard tug. "Valden,
help me lift the car on this side! You two boys pull your friend
out when we lift the car. Now!"

Though Deputy Valden was able to employ only his left hand, he
used it with all his strength.

"Here he comes," panted Dave, tugging at Dick's body with all
his might. "Gracious! I hope he isn't drowned!"

Greg, too, exerted all his strength. Though it seemed ages to
the anxious ones it was really but the work of a few seconds.

As Dick's head emerged above the surface of the water he gave
a quick gasp. Then another.

"Oh, the air seems good," he moaned. "I tried to keep from opening
my mouth or breathing, but it nearly burst my lungs!"

"Are you all right now?" asked Darry, holding his chum up.

"If you'll help me to the bank I shall be, I think," answered
Prescott weakly.

"Why, what-----" began Dave anxiously.

"I was badly bruised by being pinned under the car," Dick admitted,
in a still weaker voice.

"No bones broken, eh?" broke in Greg Holmes.

"I---I think not," Dick answered.

"Don't keep him talking," ordered Dave sternly. "Put in your
strength and help me lift good old Dick up into the road."

"I guess I can do that job better," interposed Simmons, who had
let go of the car. "Let me have the boy."

Dick was borne up to the road in the deputy's strong arms.

"Can you stand?" asked Simmons.

"Put me on my feet, sir, and let me see," begged Dick.

He took a few steps, wincing, his face white.

"Dick, old fellow," faltered Dave, "I'm afraid you've broken a
leg."

"No; or I couldn't stand on my legs and walk," Prescott replied.
"It hurts up here, where the side of the car rested."

He placed one hand on his right hip.

"Then your hip is broken," groaned Darry.

"I don't believe that, either," argued Dick. "If my hip were
broken I don't believe I could move my leg or step."