I began to be acutely anxious about the old boneshaker, the more as we seemed a long way short of the village I had proposed to spend the night in.

Twilight was falling and we were still in an unfeatured waste, crossing the shallow glen of a stream.

There was a bridge at the bottom of a slope--a bridge of logs and earth which had apparently been freshly strengthened for heavy traffic.

As we approached it at a good pace the car ceased to answer to the wheel.
I struggled desperately to keep it straight, but it swerved to the left and we plunged over a bank into a marshy hollow.

There was a sickening bump as we struck the lower ground, and the whole party were shot out into the frozen slush.