We landed with a worse jolt than when we broke away from the cable, and the gray-blue river went humping past without us.

Frosty and I looked at each other and grinned; after all, we were coming out of the deal better than we had expected, for we were still right side up and on the side of the river toward home.

We were a mile or so down river from the trail, but once we were on the bank with our rig, that was nothing.
We had landed head on, with the nose of the scow plowed high and dry.
Being at the front, we went at getting our team off, and our wagon.

There was a four or five-foot jump to make, and the horses didn't know how about it, at first.

But with one of us pulling, and the other slashing them over the rump, they made it, one at a time.