This danger Sandy perceives, but he dare not check his leaders.
Suddenly, within a few yards of the bridge, Baptiste throws himself upon
the lines, wrenches them out of Sandy's hands, and, with a quick swing,
faces the pintos down the steep side of the ravine, which is almost
sheer ice with a thin coat of snow. It is a daring course to take, for
the ravine, though not deep, is full of undergrowth, and is partially
closed up by a brush heap at the further end. But, with a yell, Baptiste
hurls his four horses down the slope, and into the undergrowth. 'Allons,
mes enfants! Courage! vite, vite!' cries their driver, and nobly do the
pintos respond. Regardless of bushes and brush heaps, they tear their
way through; but, as they emerge, the hind bob-sleigh catches a root,
and, with a crash, the sleigh is hurled high in the air. Baptiste's
cries ring out high and shrill as ever, encouraging his team, and never
cease till, with a plunge and a scramble, they clear the brush heap
lying at the mouth of the ravine, and are out on the ice on the river,
with Baptiste standing on the front bob, the box trailing behind, and
Sandy nowhere to be seen.
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