He chose the latter, and when it wanted but one step more to the bank, down sunk both horses, until little more than their backs were visible.
The white gravel proved to be a bed of treacherous yellow clay, which, gleaming through the water, had caused so unfortunate a deception.
With frantic struggles, for they were nearly suffocated with mud and water, the horses made desperate efforts to free themselves from the harness.

My husband sprang out upon the pole.

"Some one give me a knife," he cried.

I was back in the water in a moment, and, approaching as near as I dared, handed him mine from the scabbard around my neck.
"Whatever you do, do not cut the traces," cried his mother.
He severed some of the side-straps, when, just as he had reached the extremity of the pole, and was stretching forward to separate the head-couplings, one of the horses gave a furious plunge, which caused his fellow to rear, and throw himself nearly backwards.

My husband was between them.