“You won’t have to do that,” declared the man who had been among the first to express his admiration over Dick’s feat. “The girl’s brother said he’d give a hundred dollars to the one who stopped the horse. That ought to buy another wheel.” “But I didn’t mean that I’d give it to him!” said Chester Arlington weakly. “What?” roared the man. “What’s the difference who stopped the horse? I heard you telling since the runaway started that you are the son of D. Roscoe Arlington, the great railroad man. If that’s so your father can buy a whole bicycle-factory without going broke. You’d better keep your word.” “You mind your business!” jerked out Chester, trying to rise from the steps to meet June, who had been assisted to the ground by Dick. “It was on his account that——” Then Chester’s knees buckled beneath him, and he dropped in a limp heap at the foot of the steps. With a cry, June bent over him. “He’s hurt!” she exclaimed, in great agitation. “Chester! Chester! Speak to me, brother!” But Chester Arlington lay white and still on the ground. “I think he has fainted, Miss Arlington,” said Dick. “Don’t be alarmed. He may not be seriously hurt at all. The fright over your danger may have brought this on. Come, fellows, let’s carry him into the hotel.” Brad Buckhart drew back. “Well, I don’t care about dirtying my hands on the coyote,” he muttered. There were others, however, who were ready enough to assist Dick, and Chester was borne into the hotel, where he was attended by one of the village doctors who had joined the crowd. In a few moments he recovered. The doctor was unable to tell just how much Chester was hurt, and he was taken to a room for further examination and treatment. June kept close to him, betraying the greatest anxiety on his account. Chester’s back was injured, and he did not seem to have strength enough in his legs to walk. However, as he lay on the bed, he gave his sister a reproachful look, saying: “See what you have brought me to, June! It was all on account of your obstinacy, and——” “Oh, hush, Chester!” she said gently. “I am very sorry anything happened to you.” “And you came near being killed, too. If you had——” “Don’t talk that way! I am all right, thanks to Mr. Merriwell.” He started as if he had been stabbed with a keen point, his face showing pain and anger. “That fellow! that fellow!” he panted. “That he should be the one to stop the horse! Oh, I’d given anything rather than had him save you!” “I presume you would have preferred to see me thrown out and injured or killed!” she exclaimed. “No,” he huskily said, “no, June! Oh, you don’t know how I felt when I realized what had happened and that you might be hurt! I tried to get up and run after the horse, but I didn’t have the strength. June, you know I—I wouldn’t have harm come to you for anything. You know it! But to have him save you!”