There was no escape.

If one moved his feet out of a stream, he brought his body under one; and if he moved his body he caught one somewhere else.

If he struggled out of the drenched blankets and sat up, he was bound to get one down the back of his neck.
Meantime the stage was wandering about a plain with gaping gullies in it, for the driver could not see an inch before his face nor keep the road, and the storm pelted so pitilessly that there was no keeping the horses still.

With the first abatement the conductor turned out with lanterns to look for the road, and the first dash he made was into a chasm about fourteen feet deep, his lantern following like a meteor.

As soon as he touched bottom he sang out frantically: "Don't come here!" To which the driver, who was looking over the precipice where he had disappeared, replied, with an injured air: "Think I'm a dam fool ?" The conductor was more than an hour finding the road--a matter which showed us how far we had wandered and what chances we had been taking.
He traced our wheel-tracks to the imminent verge of danger, in two places.