Chapter Nine.
For the first minutes Claudia could realise nothing but confusion, and a dreadful sense of terror; for the shock to herself had been so great as to set her head whirling, and prevent her instant understanding of what had happened. She slowly gathered herself up, while the driver, who was not quite sober, jumped off, swore loudly, and ran to his horses’ heads. In his excitement he would have jerked them back, so that the wheel would again have passed over Fenwick, if Charlie Carter had not caught his arm.
“Stop, you fool!” he said. “Can’t you see what you’re doing?”
The driver swore another great oath, and rubbed his arm across his wet forehead.
“’Twern’t no fault o’ mine,” he protested. “Why didn’t you look ahead?”
“Shut up!” said Charlie tersely, “and hold these brutes of yours quiet while I get him out.”
Claudia, white as a ghost, came to his side.
“I can help,” she said.
“Can you?” said the boy, looking distrustfully at her. “You won’t faint, or anything?”