“Just my luck!” muttered Tom.

“Keep cool, then.”

“I will fix you yet.”

“All right; but you had better not let go your pole again, or you will lose another fish.”

“I’m bound to smash your head, though.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Won’t I?”

“Two can play at that game.”

“Do you stump me?”

“No; I don’t want to fight; I won’t fight if I can help it.”

“I’ll bet you won’t!” sneered Tom.

“But I will defend myself.”

“Humph!”

“I am not a liar, and the fear of a flogging shall not make me tell a lie."’

“Go to Sunday school—­don’t you?”

“I do; and besides that, my mother always taught me never to tell a lie.”

“Come! you needn’t preach to me.  By and by, you will call me a liar.”

“No, I won’t; but just now you told me you meant to lie to your mother, and to the master.”

“What if I did?  That is none of your business.”

“It is my business when you want me to lie for you, though; and I shall not do it.”

“Blow on me, and see what you will get.”

“I don’t mean to blow on you.”

“Yes you do.”

“I will not lie about it; that’s all.”

“By jolly! see that horse!” exclaimed Tom, suddenly, as he pointed to the road leading to Riverdale centre.

“By gracious!” added Bobby, dropping his fish pole, as he saw the horse running at a furious rate up the road from the village.

The mad animal was attached to a chaise, in which was seated a lady, whose frantic shrieks pierced the soul of our youthful hero.

The course of the road was by the river’s side for nearly half a mile, and crossed the stream at a wooden bridge but a few rods from the place where the boys were fishing.

Bobby Bright’s impulses were noble and generous; and without stopping to consider the peril to which the attempt would expose him, he boldly resolved to stop that horse, or let the animal dash him to pieces on the bridge.

“Now or never!” shouted he, as he leaped from the rock, and ran with all his might to the bridge.

The shrieks of the lady rang in his ears, and seemed to command him, with an authority which he could not resist, to stop the horse.  There was no time for deliberation; and, indeed, Bobby did not want any deliberation.  The lady was in danger; if the horse’s flight was not checked, she would be dashed in pieces; and what then could excuse him for neglecting his duty?  Not the fear of broken limbs, of mangled flesh, or even of a sudden and violent death.

It is true Bobby did not think of any of these things; though, if he had, it would have made no difference with him.  He was a boy who would not fight except in self-defence, but he had the courage to do a deed which might have made the stoutest heart tremble with terror.

Grasping a broken rail as he leaped over the fence, he planted himself in the middle of the bridge, which was not more than half as wide as the road at each end of it, to await the coming of the furious animal.  On he came, and the piercing shrieks of the affrighted lady nerved him to the performance of his perilous duty.