"We'll be killed!" cried the man.

"No, we won't. Do as I say. I'm on deck, and I'll--"

Bart sized up the situation, counted its risks and possibilities, and
described a sudden forward leap.

The lines were torn and trailing under the horses' feet. He cut the air
in a reckless, but well planned dive.

Bart landed sprawling between the two horses, his knee striking the
carriage pole.

Bracing himself there, he caught out at the head of either horse. With a
firm grip his fingers closed on the bridle reins.

Ahead was a stony wagon track lining a deep gravel pit dangerously near
its edge.

About a hundred feet further on ran the creek, sunk between banks some
fifteen feet high.

Bart drew the bridles taut. He feared the tremendous strain would break
them. The heads of the horses were now held as in a vice, but they
snorted and continued to plunge forward with undiminished speed.

As a wheel landed in a rut full of thick mud, their pace was momentarily
retarded. Bart jerked at the bridles. The horses paused fully, but
pranced and backed.