Just how it happened, not even Colonel Ashley, naturally the most
interested person, could tell afterward. But as the detective was
crossing a crowded street a big auto truck swung around a corner, and
he found himself directly in its path as he stepped off the curb.

Active as he always kept himself, the old detective sprang back out of
the way. But fate, in the person of a small boy, had just a little
while before, dropped a banana skin on the streets. And the colonel
stepped squarely on this peeling, as he tried to retreat.

There was a sudden sliding, an endeavor to retain his footing, and then
Colonel Ashley fell prostrate, his fishing rod pieces spinning from his
fingers. Down he went, and the truck thundered straight at him.

It was almost upon him, and the big, solid, front tires were about to
crush him, in spite of the frantic efforts of the driver to swerve his
machine to one side, when a slim figure dashed from the crowd on the
sidewalk, and, with an indistinguishable cry, seized the colonel by the
shoulders, fairly dragging him with a desperate burst of strength from
the very path of death.

There were gasps of alarm and sighs of relief. The driver of the truck
swore audibly, but it was more a prayer than an oath. The colonel,
grimy and muddy, was set on his feet by his rescuer, and several men
gathered about. The colonel was a bit-dazed, but not so much so that
he could not hear several murmur:

"He saved his life all right!"