The intelligent animal appeared to enjoy her wild runaway, and wanted to keep it up. Apparently she aimed to keep precisely to her own side of the road and avoid a collision.
The driver of the team coming had jumped from his seat and pulled his rig to the very edge of the planking. All might have gone well but for a slight miscalculation.
As Lute's feet struck the bridge plankway, she pressed close to the right. The wagon swerved. The front end of the box landed squarely against the stone post.
The shock was a stunning one. It tore the wagon shafts, harness and all, clear off the horse. With a circling twist the vehicle reversed like lightning. The box struck the wooden rail. This snapped like a pipe stem.
Lute, dashed on like a whirlwind, the driver of the other team staring in appalled wonder, the box slid clear of the plankway and went whirling to the river bed fifteen feet below.
Andy was thrown from side to side. Then, as the wagon landed, a new crash and a new shock dazed his wits completely. He was hurled the length of the box, his head fortunately striking where the newspaper bag intervened.
Judging from the concussion, Andy decided that the wagon box had landed on a big rock in the river bed. There it remained stationary. He struggled to an upright position. One arm was badly wrenched. His face was grazed and bleeding.
"If I don't get out some way," he panted, "I'll drown."
It looked that way. He felt a great spurt of water, pouring in rapidly when the ventilator dipped under the surface. Then, too, the crash had wrenched the box structure at various seams. Water was forcing its way in, bottom, sides and top.
From ankle-deep to knee-deep, Andy stood helpless. Then, locating the door end of the vehicle, he drew back and massed all his muscle for a supreme effort. Shoulders first Andy posed, and then threw himself forward, battering-ram fashion. He felt he must act and that quickly, or else the worst might be his own.