In the following days, although bearing bruises and resentment, Pierre stayed true to his duties, riding his horse and standing guard without slacking off again.
The others—whether coachmen or Dusacks—also didn't dare to shirk their responsibilities.
As they drew nearer to home, everyone was filled with an eagerness to return; the strength with which they cracked their whips unconsciously increased.
With the rain ceasing upstream, the Panto River had returned to its normal levels. Instead of taking a detour through Shizhen, the caravan stuck to the shortest route, crossing the river at the ford.
…
"One!" the veteran coachman shouted hoarsely, "Two!"
Surrounding the cart, the young men clutched at its frame, struggling to lift it: "Three!"
With the command, the large cart that was stuck on a rock was forcibly lifted.
Seizing the opportunity, the old coachman lashed his whip fiercely; the three mules, in pain, dragged the heavy cart rumbling towards the opposite shore.
