the involuntary cry of the two boys clinging on
behind him, silenced even this mental soliloquy for a bit. But the
waggonette, after two or three desperate plunges, righted itself and
continued its mad career at the heels of the mare.

"What would happen if we went over? Jolly awkward to get pitched over
on to my head or down among the mare's feet! She'd kick, I guess!
Those fellows inside could jump and-- By Jove! there comes something on
the road! We're in for it now! Either a smash, or over the bank, or--
Hallo! there's a gate open!"

This last inward exclamation was caused by the sight of an open gate
some distance ahead, through which a rough cart-track branched off from
the road towards the sand-hills on the left. Richardson, with the
instinct of desperation, seized upon this as the only way of escape from
the peril which threatened them.

"Look out, you fellows!" cried he; "hang on tight on the right side
while we turn, and jump well out if we go over."

They watched him breathlessly as they came towards the gate. The
vehicle which was meeting them and their own were about equal distance
from the place, and it was clear their fate must be settled in less than
a minute.

Richardson waved to the driver of the approaching cart to pull up, and
at the same time edged the mare as far as he could on to the off-side of
the road, so as to give her a wide turn in.

"Now for it!" said he to himself, pulling the left rein; "if this don't
do, I'll give up driving."

The mare, perhaps weary, perhaps perplexed at the sight of the cart in
front, perhaps ready for a new diversion, obeyed the lead and swerved
off at the gate. For a moment the waggonette tottered on its left
wheel, and, but for the weight of the two passengers on the other side,
would have caught the gate post and shattered itself to atoms in the
narrow passage.

As it was, it cleared the peril by an inch, and then, plunging on to the
soft, rough track, capsized gently, mare and all, landing its three
occupants a yard or two off with their noses in the mud.

It was an undignified end to an heroic drive, and Richardson, as he
picked himself up and cleared the mud from his eyes, felt half
disappointed that no bones were broken or joints dislocated after all.
Coote did certainly contribute a grain of consolation by announcing that
he _believed_ one of his legs was broken. But even this hope of glory
was short-lived, for that young hero finding no