The thrill of terror which ran through the postboy's form at sight of the reeling cliff swiftly descending upon him was quickly followed by the ready decision of action so natural to him.
Given but an instant in which to think and act, a less level-headed person must have been caught under the massive block of granite. Not one in a hundred would have had the nerve to do what Dix Lewis dared in that awful moment.
A glance showed him that there was only one way of escape from the falling slice of ledge, and even that led to what seemed as certain death in another form.
But there was one chance in a thousand, and that hope was enough to nerve him to action.
The sheer descent to the Kanawha was over a hundred feet at this spot, but in a wild leap down this fearful chasm lay his sole hope.
With a sharp cry of encouragement to Jack, he spurred the faithful steed forward—forward to the brink of the frightful depths, where for a moment horse and rider seemed suspended in midair.
Another shout to the trembling horse, a wild glance backward, and the Postboy of the Kanawha made the flying leap to what seemed instant death!
As he was carried downward as if on wings of air, a sharp cry rang on his ears, while his last look at the cliff had shown him the well-known figure of Buzzard Burrnock outlined with vivid distinctness on the uppermost point of the bluff.
Then his breath almost left him, and a suffocating sensation came over him, quickly ended by a loud splash of water, and the furious struggling of the gallant Jack, as he reached the surface of the rolling Kanawha.
Little Snap seemed to lose his senses for a time, and the battle which ensued on the part of his noble horse was not fully realized by him.