Everything happened so quickly that no appreciable time had elapsed between the sighting of the messenger ahead and the sudden stop made by the car just as the man tried to cross in front of it. Tingling with nervousness, the midshipmen had cried out repeatedly at Impey’s recklessness, but he turned a deaf ear. The pedestrians could all be depended upon to jump away at the first sound of the horn. Impey doubtless thought the messenger ahead would do the same; but unfortunately for his calculations the man was stone deaf, a pensioned sailor, whose hearing had been ruined in an explosion on shipboard. As the car approached, he was first conscious of its presence, but not its direction, from the information received in the faces of people about him. He suddenly stopped in his tracks bewildered. Even now all would have been well had he not done just the one thing that could lead to disaster. “Stop her!” both lads cried in horror, but even then they realized it was too late. With faces blanched with terror the three men sat rooted to their seats. They had seen the poor man fall directly in front of the speeding machine in a wild attempt to save himself from an unknown danger. A cry had risen from the hundreds of bystanders. It held an ill-omened note of menace. The faces were no longer smiling, but wore a look of horror and righteous anger. The machine was completely surrounded. Phil would have leaped from the car to help the injured man, but he was met with open opposition and was forced back into his seat. Aghast, the midshipmen saw Impey in the grasp of nearly a dozen threatening Japanese. His hands still clutched the steering wheel, and in a second his perfectly-fitting frock-coat was torn from his body. His face was white with fear, and his eyes, turned toward them, had a dumb animal appeal. To be hauled from his seat meant instant death at the hands of the outraged mob. The car was given a sudden lurch by the efforts of several score of men who had lifted the forward end from the ground. With a shudder of horror they saw the form of the injured one carried away from under the cruel wheels. Impey yet clutched his steering wheel and fought off the mob with a strength born of desperation. The two lads were upon their feet, expecting any moment to find themselves attacked by the Japanese, for a mob has no reasoning power, and with it the uniform of an American naval officer would have no significance. However, there was no time to speculate upon their own dangerous position. Impey’s peril was imminently before their startled eyes. He must be saved, even if in the attempt they drew down the wrath of the mob upon their own heads. They could not see him dragged to death without making an effort in his defense. “Help me,” Impey cried piteously. The appeal was not unanswered. The two midshipmen cleared the front seat in a bound, and laid firm hands upon the trembling body of the terrified man.