He did not mean to let go, although he might be crushed between the horse's shoulder and the tree, and drew as close as possible to the animal.

Something brushed his coat, he felt a button torn off, but the tree was passed.

He knew where he was now, and thrusting hard against the horse urged the animal towards the other side of the road.

The log ran into soft snow and slowed; there was more room here and the steepest pitch was behind.

A few minutes later, he reached the top of the skids and sat down on the log, breathing fast and feeling badly shaken.
He frowned as he thought there was no physical reason he should feel shaken.