urrying up, crying to him
to desist, his violence increased.

'Hiilo! Hillo!' cried Jonas.

'For God's sake!' cried the driver. 'The gentleman--in the road--he'll
be killed!'

The same shouts and the same struggles were his only answer. But the man
darting in at the peril of his own life, saved Montague's, by dragging
him through the mire and water out of the reach of present harm. That
done, he ran to Jonas; and with the aid of his knife they very shortly
disengaged the horses from the broken chariot, and got them, cut and
bleeding, on their legs again. The postillion and Jonas had now leisure
to look at each other, which they had not had yet.

'Presence of mind, presence of mind!' cried Jonas, throwing up his hands
wildly. 'What would you have done without me?'

'The other gentleman would have done badly without ME,' returned the
man, shaking his head. 'You should have moved him first. I gave him up
for dead.'

'Presence of mind, you croaker, presence of mind' cried Jonas with a
harsh loud laugh. 'Was he struck, do you think?'

They both turned to look at him. Jonas muttered something to himself,
when he saw him sitting up beneath the hedge, looking vacantly around.

'What's the matter?' asked Montague. 'Is anybody hurt?'

'Ecod!' said Jonas, 'it don't seem so. There are no bones broken, after
all.'

They raised him, and he tried to walk. He was a good deal shaken, and
trembled very much. But with the exception of a few cuts and bruises
this was all the damage he had sustained.

'Cuts and bruises, eh?' said Jonas. 'We've all got them. Only cuts and
bruises, eh?'

'I wouldn't have given sixpence for the gentleman's head in half-a-dozen
seconds more, for all he's only cut and bruised,' observed the post-boy.
'If ever you're in an accident of this sort again, sir; which I hope
you won't be; never you pull at the bridle of a horse that's down, when
there's a man's head in the way. That can't be done twice without there
being a dead man in the case; it would have ended in that, this time, as
sure as ever you were born, if I hadn't come up just when I did.'

Jonas replied by advising him with a curse to hold his tongue, and to go
somewhere, whither he was not very likely to go of his own accord. But
Montague, who had listened eagerly to every word, himself diverted the
subject, by exclaiming: 'Where's the boy?'

'Ecod! I forgot that monkey,' said Jonas. 'What's become of him?' A very
brief search settled t