In loud and brutal tones the highwayman now began to order the
frightened ladies to give up their watches and rings, enforcing his
commands with terrible curses. When suddenly a pistol flashed out
just behind him, and he fell off his horse with a ball through his
shoulder.

Tom's shot, though equally well intended, was not so truly aimed.
The highwayman had dismounted, and was standing just in front of the
leaders, so that Tom had a fair view of him between them. The boys had
both occasionally fired their father's pistols, for, in those days,
each householder in the country always kept loaded pistols in his
room, but his skill was not sufficient to make sure of a man at that
distance. The bullet flew past at two feet to the left of his head.
But its effect was scarcely less startling than if it had actually hit
him, for, in its passage, it passed through the ear of the off leader.
The horse made a start at the sudden pain, and then dashed forward.
The rest of the team, already alarmed by the shot, followed her lead;
before the startled highwayman could get out of the way they were upon
him, in another instant he was under their heels, and the coach gave a
sudden lurch as it passed over his body.

"Lie still, Rhoda, a little longer; it's all right, but the horses
have run away," Tom exclaimed, as he scrambled forward, and caught
hold of the reins, which the coachman had tied to the rail of the seat
as he got down. "Catch hold of the reins, Peter, and help me pull."

Peter did so; but the united strength of the boys was wholly unequal
to arresting the headlong flight of the horses.