“Touch that rein, and I fire,” roared Rockley.
Then there was once more a flash cutting the darkness; and as the bullet from Rockley’s pistol sped on its errand, the horse made one plunge forward, and then pitched upon its head. There was a tremendous crash of breaking glass and woodwork, and beside the road the wreck of a chaise with two horses down, and the leaders tangled in their harness and kicking furiously till they had broken free.
Volume Two—Chapter Twenty Seven.
Richard Linnell thinks he has been a Fool.
For a few moments, in the suddenness of the catastrophe, every one was too much astounded to take any steps. Linnell was the first to recover himself, and, leaping from his horse, he threw the rein to Bell.
Mellersh followed his example, joining Linnell as he tried to drag open the door of the chaise, which was over upon its side with the off-wheeler kicking in the front, as it lay there upon its companion in a tangle of harness.
The framework was so wrenched that for a minute or two the door would not yield, and the utter silence within sent a chill of horror through Linnell.
“Let me come, Dick,” whispered Mellersh, the catastrophe that had so suddenly befallen them forcing him to speak in subdued tones; “let me come, Dick. I’m stronger, perhaps.”