The nose of the boat sheered out under the pressure of a heavy cake, so that he came up at the stern.

The woman's arm flashed over the side to his collar, and at the same instant, sharp and authoritative, her voice rang out to the Indian oarsmen to back water.
Still holding the man's head above water, she threw her body against the sweep and guided the boat stern-foremost into the opening.

A few more strokes and it grounded at the foot of the bank.

She passed the collar of the chattering man to Dave Harney, who dragged him out and started him off on the trail of the mail-carriers.
Frona stood up, her cheeks glowing from the quick work.

Jacob Welse hesitated.