A sudden rush of wind carried the light fabric out of her hand, and it sailed away like a gorgeous streamer. Elsie gave a little cry, but it was frozen on her lips. One of the horses had been restive from the first. The scarf floated over his head, curved downward, and one end got entangled with his bridle. The shy, spirited creature gave a wild bound, communicated like terror to his companion, and away the frenzied pair dashed, taking the coachman so completely by surprise, that he was helpless as a child. It was one of those brief occurrences which pass like lightning to lookers-on, but seem an eternity to the persons in danger. Mrs. Harrington's shrieks rang out sharp and shrill; Elsie gave one shuddering moan, and crouched down in the bottom of the carriage, hiding her face in Elizabeth's dress.
Elizabeth Fuller was deathly pale. She realized the full terror of their situation. She uttered no shriek, but clasped her arms around Elsie, and strove to speak a few reassuring words to Mrs. Harrington, which were drowned by the woman's terrified shrieks.
Elizabeth looked desperately down the road over which the horses were rushing like wild desert steeds. The carriages in sight were turned quickly on one side, and their inmates seemed uncertain how to assist them. Any attempt to stop the frightened and infuriated animals threatened certain death.
Elizabeth saw this, and her heart died within her. They were now at the top of a long hill, keeping the road, but hurled onward like lightning. At the foot of the hill was a loaded cart, its driver vainly striving to whip his team out of the way. The brave girl saw this new danger, and fell back with a groan. She knew that the carriage would be whirled against that ponderous load, and dashed to atoms. Effort was hopeless, she could only stretch forth her arms, draw Elsie close, close to her cold heart, and pray dumbly that she might in mercy be permitted to die for his sister.
Still, in her anguish and terror, she looked out beyond the leaping horses, as they thundered down the hill. The man had sprung from his cart, and, with his whip in both hands, was lashing his overtasked beasts in frantic terror. Beyond him came a person on horseback, riding furiously. But they were close to the cart now. It was still more than half across the road. Sick with dread, she closed her eyes, holding Elsie close, and turning, as it were, to stone, with the shrieking young coward in her arms.
In another instant there was a shock which threw them all off their seats; and when Elizabeth could realize anything, or recover from the deafening effect of Mrs. Harrington's cries, she knew that the horses had been stopped—the peril was over.
The gentleman she had discovered through blinding clouds of dust, riding swiftly towards the hill, had seen their danger, dismounted, and with ready presence of mind, prepared to seize the horses the instant the carriage struck against the cart.
One wheel was forced partially off, but there was no other harm done. Elsie and Mrs. Harrington had both flung themselves on Elizabeth, so that she could neither see nor hear; but the widow discovering that she was still alive, made a little moan, and began to shake out her flounces when she saw the gentleman who had rescued them standing by the side of the carriage.
"You are safe, ladies," he said, opening the door; "you had better get out and walk on to the hotel—it is only a few steps."
"How can we ever thank you!" sobbed Mrs. Harrington. "You are our preserver—we owe you our lives!"