The student, violently shaken, bent forward and tried to find something
to catch hold of so as to keep his balance and save himself from being
thrown out, but the leather mail bags were slippery, and the driver,
whose belt the student tried to catch at, was himself tossed up and down
and seemed every moment on the point of flying out. Through the rattle
of the wheels and the creaking of the cart they heard the sword fall
with a clank on the ground, then a little later something fell with two
heavy thuds behind the mail cart.

"Wo!" the driver cried in a piercing voice, bending backwards. "Stop!"

The student fell on his face and bruised his forehead against the
driver's seat, but was at once tossed back again and knocked his spine
violently against the back of the cart.

"I am falling!" was the thought that flashed through his mind, but at
that instant the horses dashed out of the forest into the open, turned
sharply to the right, and rumbling over a bridge of logs, suddenly
stopped dead, and the suddenness of this halt flung the student forward
again.

The driver and the student were both breathless. The postman was not in
the cart. He had been thrown out, together with his sword, the student's
portmanteau, and one of the mail bags.

"Stop, you rascal! Sto-op!" they heard him shout from the forest. "You
damned blackguard!" he shouted, running up to the cart, and there was a
note of pain and fury in his tearful voice. "You anathema, plague take
you!" he roared, dashing up to the driver and shaking his fist at him.