“A woman, by Heaven!” gasped Abe, as he sprang across the gaping shaft of a mine in the recklessness of his haste.
Morgan was the lighter and more active man. He drew away rapidly from his stalwart companion. Within a minute he was standing panting and bareheaded in the middle of the soft muddy road, while his partner was still toiling down the side of the declivity.
The carriage was close on him now. He could see in the light of the lamps the raw-boned Australian horse as, terrified by the storm and by its own clatter, it came tearing down the declivity which led to the ford. The man who was driving seemed to see the pale set face in the pathway in front of him, for he yelled out some incoherent words of warning, and made a last desperate attempt to pull up. There was a shout, an oath, and a jarring crash, and Abe, hurrying down, saw a wild infuriated horse rearing madly in the air with a slim dark figure hanging on to its bridle. Boss, with the keen power of calculation which had made him the finest cricketer at Rugby in his day, had caught the rein immediately below the bit, and clung to it with silent concentration. Once he was down with a heavy thud in the roadway as the horse jerked its head violently forward, but when, with a snort of exultation, the animal pressed on, it was only to find that the prostrate man beneath its forehoofs still maintained his unyielding grasp.
“Hold it, Bones,” he said, as a tall figure hurled itself into the road and seized the other rein.
“All right, old man, I’ve got him;” and the horse, cowed by the sight of a fresh assailant, quieted down, and stood shivering with terror.
“Get up, Boss, it’s safe now.”
But poor Boss lay groaning in the mud.
“I can’t do it, Bones.” There was a catch in the voice as of pain. “There’s something wrong, old chap, but don’t make a fuss. It’s only a shake; give me a lift up.”
Abe bent tenderly over his prostrate companion. He could see that he was very white, and breathing with difficulty.
“Cheer up, old Boss,” he murmured. “Hullo! my stars!”