You are a brave man, sir, to risk your life for
a stranger."
Acton said quietly, "Not at all; but I think I was very lucky to turn
them in time."
In a minute or two there was a small crowd. Half a dozen stray cyclists
had wheeled up, and with their help Acton got out the horses, dreadfully
cut about the legs and shivering with terror, from the wreckage. Down
the dusty road were men running for dear life, and ahead of all Acton
caught sight of a well-known athletic figure running like a deer, and in
another moment Phil Bourne was asking the lady in panting bursts if she
were not really hurt.
"No, Phil; not in the least. I owe my life to this gentleman, who pulled
the horses into the bank before they could reach the bridge."
Phil wheeled round, his face beaming with gratitude, but when he saw
Acton, pale to the lips, the words of thankfulness froze on his lips.
For one instant he stared at his old enemy with wonder and amazement,
then, with a gesture of utter gratitude, he said--
"Acton, I can never tell you how much I owe you for saving my mother's
life, but will you shake hands?"
Acton looked at Bourne, whose face beamed with admiration and gratitude,
and then he put out his hand. In that moment, so honourable to them
both, the feud was stamped out for ever. Fresh as he was from as
glorious a deed as any Amorian had ever done, he realized that he had
been a blackguard towards Bourne the moment Phil begged him to shake
hands.
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