The ram evidently saw the other car coming; it tried to leap out but its hoofs were jammed in the spokes of the steering wheel. Before Jake could pick himself up from the floor of the front part of the car there came a loud shriek from the runabout. It was echoed by Miss Prescott and The Wren.

Crash!

The two cars came together with a fearful jolt.

The eyes of the young aviators aloft were fixed on the scene. They saw the large car strike the runabout and crumple its engine hood. Peggy gave a scream.

The ram, jolted out of its seat by the force of the collision, fell out to one side, allowing Jake to resume control of the wheel. But the runabout! It was ditched, its unfortunate occupant being pitched headlong into a ditch at the side of the road.

Down swept the aËroplanes, and there was a wild rush to the rescue. Peggy, Jess and Bess ran to the side of the injured occupant of the strange runabout. The boys divided themselves, attending to everything.

"Roy! Roy! hurry, she's unconscious!"

The cry came from Peggy as she rushed to the side of the young motorist.

Roy was not far off, and, at his sister's cry, he hastened to her side. Peggy had the girl's head in her lap.

"Get water!" she cried.

But Jimsy was already on hand with a collapsible aluminum cup full of water from a near by spring.

"Oh, the poor dear," sighed Peggy, "to think that our fun should have—"

The strange girl opened her eyes.

"Who are you?" she exclaimed. "Where is my machine?"

"Never mind for a minute," spoke Peggy, seeing that Jimsy and Jake were trying to drag the machine out of the ditch, "we'll fix it, never fear."

"Oh, my head!" groaned the girl.

"That pesky ram," exploded Roy angrily; "let me help you up into the road, you'll be more comfortable."

"Oh, thank you, I can stand," came faintly from the injured girl. "I—am—much better now. What happened?"

"Why a sort of volunteer driver was experimenting with our car, and I guess he made a mistake in driving," smilingly explained Roy.

"Oh, that ram!" cried the girl half hysterically. "I thought I had a nightmare at first."

"I don't blame you," smiled Peggy, "seeing a ram driving a motor car is apt to give one such ideas."

"Are you really better?" asked Jess sympathetically as she came up.

"Peggy, get my smelling salts out of the traveling bag!" cried Miss Prescott anxiously.

The accident had disturbed her sadly. The only unperturbed one in the party was Jake. He took things with philosophical calm.

"Knew more trouble was comin'," said he, and contented himself by dismissing the situation with that.

"I've got good news for you," said Jimsy, coming up; "your car isn't hurt a bit."

"Oh, good!" cried the girl, clasping her hands and flushing. Her veil was raised now and they saw that she was very blonde, very pretty and just now very pale.

"My, what a rambunctious ram!" punned Roy; "he ramified all over, didn't he?"

"Gracious, for a time I thought I was seeing things!" gasped the girl, who was seated on a tufted hummock of grass at the side of the road.

"And then you felt them," laughed Jimsy. "That's the way such things run."

They all laughed. Soon after, Roy, Jimsy and Jake dragged the small runabout out of the ditch. In the meantime Peggy had introduced herself and Jess to the young girl. The latter's name was Lavinia Nesbitt. She lived not far from the scene of the accident, and had been taking a jaunt in her machine.

The runabout had been rescued, and the whole party introduced and talking merrily when Jess set up a cry.

"Goodness! here comes that ram again!"

Down the road, with the two sheep drivers at its heels, the beast was indeed coming. It advanced at a hard gallop, with head lowered and formidable horns ready for a charge, into the midst of the group.

"Look out for him!" yelled the sheep herders.

They needed no second injunction. All skipped adroitly out of the path of the oncoming beast, which was rushing on like a whirlwind. Jimsy proved equal to the emergency. From his aËroplane he took the rope which had already done good service in rescuing the Golden Butterfly from the pond. He formed it into a loop—the lariat of the Western plains.

"Now we've got him!" he exclaimed; "that is, if we are careful. But watch out!"

"No danger of that," responded Peggy, from the vantage of the tonneau of the car; "but how are you going to rope him?"

"Watch!"

Jimsy began swinging his loop in ever widening circles. The ram was now within a few feet of him.

"Oh, the Dart!" shrieked Bess; "he'll go right through it!"

Indeed it did appear as if the maddened animal would. But just as there are many slips between cup and lip so there are many slips between the ram and the aËroplane.

Just as it appeared that he would plow his way right through the delicate fabric, Jimsy hurled his loop. It settled round the animal's horns. Planting his heels in the ground Jimsy held tight to the rope. The next minute he "snubbed" it tight and the ram lost its feet and rolled over and over in the dust.

Jake and Roy rushed in and completed the job of tying the creature.

"Goodness, Jimsy, you're a regular broncho buster!" cried Peggy admiringly.

"Oh, I learned to do some tricks with a rope with the horse hunters out in Nevada," was the response.

But careless as his manner was, Jimsy's eyes glowed with triumph. It was plainly to be seen that he was delighted with his success. Just then the two sheep drivers came running up.

The girls looked rather alarmed. Suppose they should blame them for trying to kidnap the ram.

"I'll do the talking," declared Roy; "if you said anything, Jimsy, there might be a row."

"All right," laughed Jimsy, regarding his "roped and tied captive." "I suppose you are an expert on dealing with ram owners."

"Well, I'm on to their mental ramifications," laughed Roy.

The sheep driver, an elderly man, accompanied by a youth, came up to them now. He touched his hat civilly as he approached.

"Good afternoon. No one hurt, I hope," he said.

The girls looked greatly relieved. After all, the man was not rude or angry as they had feared.

"Oh, no, thank you," cried Jess, before Roy or Jimsy could open their mouths. "I hope he isn't though."

"Hurt!" exclaimed the ram's owner, "why you couldn't hurt him with a steam hammer. Why, day 'afore yesterday the blame thing went for my wife. Hoofs and horns—yes, sir! Most knocked her down, he did. I'll fix him."

"What's his name?" asked Bess.

"Hannibal," said the man, without the flicker of a facial muscle.

"I should think Cannonball would be a better name for him," struck in Jimsy, with that funny, serious face he always assumed when 'joshing'.

"Yes, sir, I guess it would be more appropriate at that," assented the man.

He looked at the disabled machine.

"Busted?" he asked with apparent concern.

"To some extent," rejoined Roy, "only, except for that engine hood being dented there doesn't appear to be much the matter with it."

"Glad to pay if there be," said the sheep driver. "I'm going ter git rid of ther pesky critter. He's cost me a lot in damage suits already."

"Why don't you put him on the stage as the boxing ram, or something like that?" inquired Jimsy.

"Might be a good scheme," said the man, as if considering the proposal seriously.

"Mary had a little ram—" laughed Jimsy; who was thereupon told not to be "horrid."

"Why don't you box the nasty thing's ears for riding in our car?" asked Roy of Peggy.

"I'd like to do something, the saucy thing," declared Peggy with vehemence.

"Tell you what! Let's buy him."

The suggestion came from Jimsy.

"Yes, and have his skin made up into an auto robe," suggested Roy.

"If you boys aren't ridiculous," cried Peggy; "I want to forget the incident, and so I'm sure does Lavinia," the name of the girl who had been spilled out of her machine.

"You may be sure I do," she declared with emphasis. "I was never so scared in my life."

"Want to buy him?" asked the man, grasping at a chance of selling an animal that had already placed him in some embarrassing positions.

"How much do you want?" asked Roy, more as a joke than anything else.

"Three dollars," said the man.

"There you are, girls! Who'll bid? Who'll bid? This fine young ram going at a sacrifice."

Jimsy imitated an auctioneer, raising his voice to a sharp pitch.