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.
"Jump—crawl out—quick, now!" shouted Bart breathlessly to the occupant of the cab.
The colonel had been bouncing around, groaning and yelling ever since he had awakened to a realization of his desperate plight.
"Wait a minute!" he puffed. "Gently! Wait till I get out. Then you can go on," was his remarkable concession.
Bart saw the bulky body of the magnate fall, rather than step from the vehicle. He landed clumsily at the side of the road, rolled up like a ball, but unhurt.
He was so near to the grinding wheels of the vehicle and kicking hoofs of the horses that Bart relaxed the bridles.
Instantly the horses sprang forward again, but, once clear of the colonel's prostrate body, Bart focused his strength on a final mastery of the maddened steeds.