The ringmaster's whistle trilled for the successful drivers to
swing out into the concourse. They were driving furiously,
almost before the echoes of the whistle had died away.
Making the turn at the lower end of the track in safety, the two
teams in the race squared away down the home stretch. All at
once Phil saw that something was wrong. The leading chariot was
swaying dizzily, and the driver was trying with all her strength
to pull the plunging animals down.
Suddenly the wheel on the inner side slipped from its axle and
went rolling off into the center of the arena. The axle dropped
to the turf, caught, then turned the chariot bottom side up.
The woman driver was hurled off into the center in the wake of
the careening wheel, landing on her head and shoulders beside the
center platform.
The team did not stop, however. It started directly across the
arena, in a diagonal course.
"She is hurt!" cried Phil. "Somebody will be killed unless that
wild team is stopped!"
Giving no thought to the danger to himself, Phil Forrest darted
across the arena and leaped for the bridles of the plunging,
frightened animals.
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