“Don’t know. Across the ford, I s’pose.” “Why, man, the ford will be six feet deep to-night, and running like a mill-stream.” The light was nearer now, coming rapidly round the curve of the road. There was a wild sound of galloping with the rattle of the wheels. “Horses have bolted, by thunder!” “Bad job for the man inside.” There was a rough individuality about the inhabitants of Harvey’s Sluice, in virtue of which every man bore his misfortunes upon his own shoulders, and had very little sympathy for those of his neighbors. The predominant feeling of the two men was one of pure curiosity as they watched the swinging, swaying lanterns coming down the winding road. “If he don’t pull ’em up before they reach the ford he’s a goner,” remarked Abe Durton resignedly. Suddenly there came a lull in the sullen splash of the rain. It was but for a moment, but in that moment there came down on the breeze a long cry which caused the two men to start and stare at each other, and then to rush frantically down the steep incline toward the road below. “A woman, by Heaven!” gasped Abe, as he sprang across the gaping shaft of a mine in the recklessness of his haste. Morgan was the lighter and more active man. He drew away rapidly from his stalwart companion. Within a minute he was standing panting and bareheaded in the middle of the soft muddy road, while his partner was still toiling down the side of the declivity. The carriage was close on him now. He could see in the light of the lamps the raw-boned Australian horse as, terrified by the storm and by its own clatter, it came tearing down the declivity which led to the ford. The man who was driving seemed to see the pale set face in the pathway in front of him, for he yelled out some incoherent words of warning, and made a last desperate attempt to pull up. There was a shout, an oath, and a jarring crash, and Abe, hurrying down, saw a wild infuriated horse rearing madly in the air with a slim dark figure hanging on to its bridle. Boss, with the keen power of calculation which had made him the finest cricketer at Rugby in his day, had caught the rein immediately below the bit, and clung to it with silent concentration. Once he was down with a heavy thud in the roadway as the horse jerked its head violently forward, but when, with a snort of exultation, the animal pressed on, it was only to find that the prostrate man beneath its forehoofs still maintained his unyielding grasp. “Hold it, Bones,” he said, as a tall figure hurled itself into the road and seized the other rein. “All right, old man, I’ve got him;” and the horse, cowed by the sight of a fresh assailant, quieted down, and stood shivering with terror. “Get up, Boss, it’s safe now.” But poor Boss lay groaning in the mud. “I can’t do it, Bones.” There was a catch in the voice as of pain. “There’s something wrong, old chap, but don’t make a fuss. It’s only a shake; give me a lift up.”