Deep in the bed of hay the girls from Glenwood School had ensconsed
themselves. The horses were now going at such a pace that it would be
rash to attempt to jump from the rick. Nita Brant actually made her
way forward, and had now fairly grasped the old driver about the neck.
She felt that he must know how to save himself, at least, and she
determined to "take chances" with him.

Tavia did deign to sit up and notice the rate of speed the old horses
had acquired. Her dark eyes shot glances of daring admiration, and she
reminded her companions that Roman chariot races were "not in it,"
just then.

Dorothy stood up bravely and agreed to call out, when they should be
too near the river.

Suddenly there was a crash, and then the horses bolted!

"Something snapped!" called Dorothy. "Something is broken!"

No need to announce this, for, with the ominous sound, one of the
horses broke from its traces, and the other was now dragging the old
wagon along by the straps that had withstood the jerks and plunges.

"Oh, we will be killed!" screamed Nita, "There's the river!"

The girls made ready to jump.

"Don't!" begged Dorothy. "You will be dragged along in this stuff. You
cannot jump through these braces."