It seemed to him like a scene in a play rather than a reality.

He instinctively shortened the reins and pulled up the frightened horses.

Keith seized the reins with one band and snatched at the whip with the other; but it was too late.

Wickersham, hardly conscious of what he was doing, was clutching the reins with all his might, trying to control the leaders, whilst pandemonium broke out inside, cries from the women and oaths from the men.
There was another volley of oaths and another flash, and Wickersham felt a sharp little burn on the arm next Keith.
"Hold on!" he shouted.

"For God's sake, don't shoot! Hold on! Stop the horses!" [Illustration: Sprang over the edge of the road into the thick bushes below.] At the same moment Keith disappeared over the wheel.