One of them turned up an unheeding, terrified face.

Another lay prone and listless across the thwarts as though bereft of strength; while the third, with the face of a clerk, rocked back and forth and moaned monotonously, "My God! My God!" The baron stopped long enough to shake him.

"Damn!" he cried.

"Your legs, man!--not God, but your legs! Ah! ah!--hump yourself! Yes, hump! Get a move on! Twist! Get back from the bank! The woods, the trees, anywhere!" He tried to drag him out, but the man struck at him savagely and held back.
"How one collects the vernacular," he confided proudly to Frona as they hurried on.

"Twist! It is a strong word, and suitable." "You should travel with Del," she laughed.