Sammy.

Frank turned around, to see Bob back at the spot where the boy in the auto had taken his tumble into the mud puddle.

Bob had helped the boy out of the water and mire. Just now he was rubbing the mud from his coat with some dry grass. The victim of the accident was mopping his face with a handkerchief.

“Here comes the man who owns the automobile, I guess,” said Sammy.

Frank saw a man rush down the road from the direction of the vacant house. He was in a great hurry, and excited. He shouted some words at Bob and his companion, and, passing Frank and Sammy, gasping for breath, ran to the automobile.

As he looked it over and saw that he could get it back into the roadway without risk or damage, he walked up to the boys.

“One of you stopped that machine,” he said, glancing from Frank to Sammy.

[12]

[12]

“It was Frank, mister,” said Sammy, pointing to his chum.

“I haven’t got much with me,” spoke the man, his voice trembling.

First he shook Frank’s hand warmly. Then he groped in his pocket and drew out a bright new silver dollar.

“You take that till I see you again,” he said.

“No, no,” replied Frank. “I don’t want any pay for doing the little I did.”

“Little!” cried the man, pressing the coin on Frank. “That machine is worth three thousand dollars, and you saved it.”

“Well, I’m glad if I did,” said Frank.

“If that boy back there was my boy,” spoke the man, with a look at the lad who had tumbled out of the auto, “I’d either teach him how to run the machine, or handcuff him when he was aboard.”

“Oh, isn’t he your boy?” inquired Sammy.

“No, I’m his father’s chauffeur.”

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