When the creature was fully quieted and under control, young Merriwell turned to the girl in the carriage. He was hatless, flushed, triumphant, handsome. “You are quite safe, Miss Arlington,” he said. “Thanks to you,” she answered, in a voice that did not tremble. “But I knew you would do it!” Dick picked up the reins from the ground when he had succeeded in quieting the horse, and climbed into the carriage. Two men driving out of town in pursuit of the runaway met Dick Merriwell, with June Arlington at his side, serenely driving back into town. “By thunder!” said one of the men wonderingly. “This beats the world! He’s stopped the horse and is driving the critter back as cool as you please.” “Who is he?” asked the other man. “Dick Merriwell, brother of Frank Merriwell, the great Yale athlete, who used to go to school at Fardale.” “Well, he’s a good one.” “A good one! He’s a rip-snorter! Not many boys of his years could ’a’ done that job!” Dick spoke to them pleasantly. “We were after the runaway,” said one of the men; “but I rather think you don’t need none of our help.” “Thank you, no,” said Dick. “But you might drive on a short distance and pick up that bicycle. I think it is pretty badly smashed. If you’ll bring it back to the hotel I’ll be much obliged.” “We’ll do it,” said both men. “Good boy! Well done!” was shouted at him from all sides as he drove along the main street toward the hotel. When he reached the hotel he found a crowd gathered there. Chester Arlington, pale as a ghost and covered with dirt, was sitting on the steps. The Fardale crowd was on hand to cheer Dick, but he called on them to be quiet. “This horse is nervous enough now,” he said. “Do you want to start him off again?” “He’d be all right with you behind him,” declared Joe Savage. “That’s Dick Merriwell!” piped a small boy, bursting with enthusiastic admiration. “Ain’t he jest a peacherino!” “Boy, it’s marvelous!” declared a man. “You deserve great credit. It may be that you saved this girl’s life! She shouldn’t forget that.” “I won’t!” murmured June, loud enough for Dick to hear. The driver took the horse by the head. “I’ll hold him,” he said, “while you get out. I don’t know how I can thank you for keeping him from smashing the carriage and injuring himself.” “Where is my bicycle?” asked the boy from whose hands Dick had snatched the wheel. “Here it comes,” Dick answered, noting that the two men in the team were approaching, with the ruined bicycle held before them. “But I’m afraid you’ll never ride it again.” “Well, that’s pretty tough on me,” said the boy, sadly, yet plainly trying to keep from showing his grief. “I won that for a prize in a race at the county fair this fall. But I ain’t going to fuss over it as long as you stopped the horse and kept her from being hurt.” “Perhaps you’ll get another one, all right,” said Dick. “I think you will, even if I have to pay for it.”