CHAPTER XVIII
A FREAK OF NATURE
The doors at the rear of the wagon box gave way as Andy's body met their inner surface with full force. He stood now on a slant, his body submerged to the waist.
The box had crashed on top of one big flat rock in the river bed, and had tilted on this foundation against another upright rock. But for this it might have gone clear under water or floated down stream, and Andy might have been drowned.
All through his stirring runaway experience Andy had kept possession of the registered mail pouch. It was still slung from his shoulder as he gazed around him. He was careful lest he disturb the equilibrium of the wreck. He found out now that the door hinges had been knocked clear off and the frame badly wrenched in its fall.
"Hello! hello!" shouted an excited voice overhead.
"Hello yourself," sang back Andy, looking up.
The driver of the team into which the runaway had so nearly dashed stood looking down from the bridge planking. His eyes stared wide as Andy suddenly appeared like a jack-in-the-box.
"Was you in there?" gulped the man.
"I was nowhere else," answered Andy. "Say, mister, where's that horse?"