It was at this moment that Bart threw open the door of the cab, grasped a handle at the side of the vehicle, and drew himself up to the driver’s seat.

The swing the horses made just then sent his feet flying out in a wild circle, but he held on, and the rebound landed him on the seat.

Our hero cast a quick look within the vehicle.  The colonel had “rousted” up somewhat.  Buffeted from side to side by the erratic and violent movements of the horses, he was trying to maintain his balance by frantically clinging with both hands to the cushion under him.

As a wheel struck a stone the jar drove him forward.  His head smashed out the front glass, and he uttered a yell of fear.

“Don’t stir—­don’t jump!” shouted Bart through the opening thus made.

“We’ll be killed!” cried the man.

“No, we won’t.  Do as I say.  I’m on deck, and I’ll—­”

Bart sized up the situation, counted its risks and possibilities, and described a sudden forward leap.

The lines were torn and trailing under the horses’ feet.  He cut the air in a reckless, but well planned dive.

Bart landed sprawling between the two horses, his knee striking the carriage pole.

Bracing himself there, he caught out at the head of either horse.  With a firm grip his fingers closed on the bridle reins.

Ahead was a stony wagon track lining a deep gravel pit dangerously near its edge.

About a hundred feet further on ran the creek, sunk between banks some fifteen feet high.

Bart drew the bridles taut.  He feared the tremendous strain would break them.  The heads of the horses were now held as in a vice, but they snorted and continued to plunge forward with undiminished speed.

As a wheel landed in a rut full of thick mud, their pace was momentarily retarded.  Bart jerked at the bridles.  The horses paused fully, but pranced and backed.

“Jump—­crawl out—­quick, now!” shouted Bart breathlessly to the occupant of the cab.

The colonel had been bouncing around, groaning and yelling ever since he had awakened to a realization of his desperate plight.

“Wait a minute!” he puffed.  “Gently!  Wait till I get out.  Then you can go on,” was his remarkable concession.

Bart saw the bulky body of the magnate fall, rather than step from the vehicle.  He landed clumsily at the side of the road, rolled up like a ball, but unhurt.

He was so near to the grinding wheels of the vehicle and kicking hoofs of the horses that Bart relaxed the bridles.

Instantly the horses sprang forward again, but, once clear of the colonel’s prostrate body, Bart focused his strength on a final mastery of the maddened steeds.

He drew the bridles at a sharp, taut slant that must have cut their mouths fearfully at the tenderest part, for they fairly screamed with pain and terror.

He succeeded in facing them sideways, ran their heads into some brush, vaulted over them, and, landing safely on his feet in front of them, grabbed them near the bits and held them snorting and trembling at a standstill.