Dean Mercer saw the tumble of his friend with dismay, thinking he would be killed, but the stage driver did not seem to notice the catastrophe. In fact, he seemed to be oblivious of the damage done to the old coach as he continued to let his horses fly down the road at a headlong rate, his only aim appearing to be to keep them along the middle of the highway. Jack Carboy, however, was very much alive to the situation, and, as the stage thumped along, he stormed out in no uncertain tone for him to stop. Apparently enjoying the mad gait they were making, the driver paid no heed to the command of the excited seaman. Then Jack awoke to action, and proved himself equal to the occasion in his way. “Avast there, ye dumbfounded landlubber! I say, a man overboard!” Still that headlong gait was kept up. Seizing upon the reins, Jack jerked them from the old stager’s grasp, at the same time yelling: “Throw over the anchor!” Putting action to words, the excited sailor, half rising in his seat, tossed the reins out over the dashboard into space. So well did he calculate that they dropped over a mile stone beside the road, proving a most effective “anchor.” The leather was strong, and the sudden strain upon the bits of the horses brought the animals back upon their haunches, and the next moment horses, passengers and coach were piled in a promiscuous heap. The vehicle was upset, so the passengers inside were flung into the midst of the débris with fearful force. The driver was thrown completely under the heels of the horses, while Jack Carboy was a-straddle of the neck of the nigh horse. Dean Mercer, younger and more nimble, landed squarely upon his feet in the middle of the road, and, though roughly shaken up, he soon found he had received no injuries. “Port yer helm!” cried Jack. “We’re on the breakers!” “Easy, there, Jack,” cried Dean, who quickly recovered his self-possession enough to go to the rescue. “Keep their heads down and I will free them from the stage.” By this time the driver had managed to crawl out of his position, and, having received only a few slight bruises, he lent his aid to the others. Inside of as many minutes the three had freed the animals, when they staggered to their feet, where they stood trembling and dazed. “Drat that infernal ijit! Let me get my paw on him,” cried the driver, starting toward Jack Carboy, who had precipitated the catastrophe. It is difficult to say what would have happened had not Dean sprang between the two. “This is no time for personal quarrels,” he said. “We must see how it has fared with those inside the coach, Mr. Dolittle.” Perhaps the latter had begun to realize that he was likely to meet a Tartar in the person of the brawny sailor, who seemed as willing to meet him in a hand-to-hand struggle as he might be, for the driver quickly followed the advice of Dean.