"Why, my boy, is it possible?" exclaimed Mr. Allen, with deep feeling, as he grasped Frank's hand.
"Hurrah for Frank Allen, the pride of Columbia!" yelled a boy; and a series of shouts broke loose that caused every person within a block to run to their front doors to see what sort of procession was coming down the street.
"Please come along; I'll tell you all about it as we go home, dad, but it isn't quite as bad as that. I had help, and considerable of it too, or things might have been different from what they turned out. Say, you fellows, give a cheer for George Hastings, Molly Manners, Sandy Douglas and the rest of the bunch who helped get these two chaps. They deserve it more than I do!"
Leaving the crowd talking excitedly at this new development, Frank walked away with his father. Mr. Allen was burning with eagerness to hear what it was all about, and hence Frank had to tell the story, from the moment he found his wheel slipping at that spot on the road where the water from the spring overlapped it.
And when he had finished by giving most of the praise to the valiant sons of Columbia High who had appeared just in the nick of time, the gentleman squeezed his hand again and again, while there was a suspicious moisture in his eyes as he said:
"I consider myself a most fortunate man to have
