"The traces have broken." He was right; the tough leather was at length worn through by constant rubbing against the rock, and the strain and sway of the dead horses on the one side, and of the cart upon the other.

Round it spun, broadside on to the current, and immediately began to heave over, till at last the angle was so sharp that the dead body of poor Mouti slid out with a splash and vanished into the darkness.

This relieved the cart, and it righted for a moment, but now being no longer held up by the bodies of the horses or by the sustaining power of the wind it began to fill and sink, and at the same time to revolve swiftly.

John understood that all was finished, and that to stop in the cart would only mean certain death, because they would be held under water by the canvas tent.

So with a devout aspiration for assistance he seized Jess round the waist with one arm and sprang off into the river.