Mont was running at the top of his speed, for he saw that the occupant of the carriage was only a young girl, and utterly helpless, and that every second's delay endangered her life.
On and on he went, until he was within a score of yards of the maddened steeds.
Then he planted himself firmly in the middle of the road and prepared for a spring.
Fiercely the ponies dashed onward.
Nearer and nearer they came, until it seemed they must inevitably trample him beneath their iron-shod hoofs.
But our hero never wavered.
Motionless he crouched there until the end of the pole almost touched his cheek.
Then he leaped up and caught both the bridles in his strong, nervous grip.
The ponies, with loud whinnies of rage, tossed up their heads and lifted him from his feet, but he clung tenaciously to them.
They dragged him along the ground for a few yards, and then their speed began to slacken.