"Point the revolver at the man behind," he said, giving it to her,
"if he presses us too hard.  No!--point it at his horse."

Then he began to look out for a chance of edging to the right
across the road.  But once in the stream he seemed to lose volition,
to become a part of that dusty rout.  They swept through Chipping
Barnet with the torrent; they were nearly a mile beyond the centre of
the town before they had fought across to the opposite side of the
way.  It was din and confusion indescribable; but in and beyond the
town the road forks repeatedly, and this to some extent relieved the
stress.