The next second I saw Marigold semaphore a few yards in front of the car and then swing sickeningly at the horse's bit; and then the whole lot of them, Marigold, horse and rider, come down in a convulsive heap on the greasy road.

To my intense relief I saw Marigold pick himself up and go to the head of the plunging, prostrate horse.

In a moment or two he had got the beast on his feet, where he stood quivering.

It was a fine, smart piece of work on the part of the old artilleryman.

I was so intent on his danger that I forgot all about Boyce: but as soon as the three crashed down, I saw him run to assist the young subaltern who had rolled himself clear.
"By Jove, that was a narrow shave!" he cried cordially, giving him a hand.
"It was indeed, sir," said the young man, scraping the mud off his face.