If Royson had not utilized that clear space lower down the street, it
would have demanded the exercise of sheer force to reach the van of the
dense gathering of nondescripts now following the drum.

Nevertheless, a clearance was made, and speedily, with the startling
suddenness of a summer whirlwind. A pair of horses, attached to an open
carriage, were drawn up in a by-street until the Guards had passed. So
far as Royson was concerned, they were on the opposite side of the
road, with their heads towards him. But he happened to be looking that
way, because his old-time companion, the Hon. John Paton Seymour, was
in the direct line of sight, and his unusual stature enabled him to see
that both horses reared simultaneously. They took the coachman by
surprise, and their downward plunge dragged him headlong from the box.
Instantly there was a panic among the mob. It melted away from the
clatter of frenzied hoofs as though a live shell had burst in the
locality. Two staccato syllables from the officer in command stopped
the music and brought the Guards to a halt. The horses dashed madly
forward, barely missing the color and its escort. A ready-witted
sergeant grabbed at the loose reins flapping in the air, but they
eluded him with a snake-like twist. The next wild leap brought the
carriage pole against a lamp-post, and both were broken. Then one of
the animals stumbled, half turned, backed, and locked the front wheels.
A lady, the sole occupant, was discarding some heavy wraps which
impeded her movements, evidently meaning to spring into the road, but
she was given no time. The near hind wheel was already off the ground.
In another second the carriage must be overturned, had not Royson,
brought by chance to the right place, seized the off wheel and the back
of the hood, and bodily lifted the rear part of the victoria into
momentary safety. It was a fine display of physical strength, and quick
judgment. He literally threw the vehicle a distance of several feet.