“A runaway!” cried Tom; “and partly my fault, too!”

Waiting not an instant the lad bent over his handle-bars and pedaled with all his force.  His bicycle seemed fairly to leap forward after the galloping horse.

“Sit still!  Don’t jump out!  Don’t jump!” yelled the young inventor.  “I’ll try to catch him!” for the woman was standing up in front of the seat and leaning forward, as if about to leap from the wagon.

“She’s lost her head,” thought Tom.  “No wonder!  That’s a skittish horse.”

Faster and faster he rode, bending all his energies to overtake the animal.  The wagon was swaying from side to side, and more than once the woman just saved herself from being thrown out by grasping the edge of the seat.  She found that her standing position was a dangerous one and crouched on the bottom of the swaying vehicle.

“That’s better!” shouted Tom, but it is doubtful if she heard him, for the rattling of the wagon and the hoofbeats of the horse drowned all other sounds.  “Sit still!” he shouted.  “I’ll stop the horse for you!”

Trying to imagine himself in a desperate race, in order to excite himself to greater speed, Tom continued on.  He was now even with the tail-board of the wagon, and slowly creeping up.  The woman was all huddled up in a lump.

“Grab the reins!  Grab the reins!” shouted Tom.  “Saw on the bit!  That will stop him!”

The occupant of the wagon turned to look at the lad.  Tom saw that she was a handsome young lady.  “Grab the reins!” he cried again.  “Pull hard!”

“I—­I can’t!” she answered frightenedly.  “They have dropped down!  Oh, do please stop the horse!  I’m so—­so frightened!”

“I’ll stop him!” declared the youth firmly, and he set his teeth hard.  Then he saw the reason the fair driver could not grasp the lines.  They had slipped over the dashboard and were trailing on the ground.

The horse was slacking speed a bit now, for the pace was telling on his wind.  Tom saw his opportunity, and with a sudden burst of energy was at the animal’s head.  Steering his wheel with one hand, with the other the lad made a grab for the reins near the bit.  The horse swerved frightenedly to one side, but Tom swung in the same direction.  He grasped the leather and then, with a kick, he freed himself from the bicycle, giving it a shove to one side.  He was now clinging to the reins with both hands, and, being a muscular lad and no lightweight, his bulk told.

“Sit—­still!” panted our hero to the young woman, who had arisen to the seat.  “I’ll have him stopped in half a minute now!”

It was in less time than that, for the horse, finding it impossible to shake off the grip of Tom, began to slow from a gallop to a trot, then to a canter, and finally to a slow walk.  A moment later the horse had stopped, breathing heavily from his run.

“There, there, now!” spoke Tom soothingly.  “You’re all right, old fellow.  I hope you’re not hurt”—­this to the young lady—­and Tom made a motion to raise his cap, only to find that it had blown off.