“Stop the horses, quick,” cried some one. Turning hastily we looked forward to see what had occurred. The front seat of the omnibus beside the driver was _empty_. Fred Harrison, who had been leaning well forward, had suddenly disappeared. CHAPTER XIX FRED HARRISON The driver of the omnibus gave his reins a sharp tug that brought his horses up on their haunches. They became frightened, and kicked viciously in their traces. This added to the general feeling of alarm. There was an awful hush for a moment as we thought of the possible fate our unfortunate companion might meet from the cruel hoofs of the startled animals. Then several of us sprang hastily to the ground. Between two of the spokes of the front wheel protruded a leg, clad in the dark blue of our ball suits, while, huddled up under the omnibus, lay the body of Fred Harrison. How he could have got into such an entangled position it is impossible to say, but it was only by a miracle that he had escaped being crushed and mangled. One more turn of the wheel would have doubtless proven fatal. Without an instant’s delay two of us crept under the body of the omnibus, and, carefully avoiding the blows of the horses’ hoofs, drew Fred gently out, and laid him upon his side on the grass. He seemed scarcely to breathe; his face was pale and still. Ray dropped on his knees, and put his hand upon the poor fellow’s breast. “Run, get some water quick,” he said. We turned in consternation and looked about us. Where should we go? We were on a deserted country road. There were no houses in sight to which we could apply for assistance, no stream near by from which we could procure water. We were utterly helpless and alone. The other omnibuses containing our companions had disappeared in the distance ahead of us. “Oh! what shall we do?” I exclaimed. “Is there no way we can help the poor fellow?” “I think he has only fainted,” said Ray, with his face close to Fred’s. “We must find something to bring him to.” Suddenly Tony Larcom uttered a quick exclamation of relief, and leaped back into the omnibus, where he began searching under the seat for something. “I have it,” he cried, as he joined us again, carrying in his hand a large bottle full of the raw whisky which we used to bathe bruises and sprains. “Here, use this. It is pretty bad stuff to swallow, but it will help him.” Ray seized the bottle, and placing it to Fred’s mouth, forced his lips open. A few swallows produced an almost immediate change. Fred took a long breath, moaned once or twice, then opened his eyes. For a moment he seemed surprised, but this expression quickly gave way to one of pain. He uttered a sharp cry and again closed his eyes. The color had entirely forsaken his lips. Evidently he had sustained some injury of which we knew nothing. We attempted to raise him up in order to make his position more comfortable, when he gave vent to another cry.