The water roared a foot deep over the logs.
"Hold hard on the horses!" yelled Bill.

"Somethin's wrong.

I never seen a snag here." The straining mass of logs, insecurely fastened together, rolled and then pitched loose again, but the short delay had been fatal to the steering apparatus.
Joe would have found keen enjoyment in the situation, had it not been for his horse, Lance.

The thoroughbred was difficult to hold.
As Bill was making strenuous efforts to get in a lucky stroke of the oar, he failed to see a long length of grapevine floating like a brown snake of the water below.

In the excitement they heeded not the barking of Mose.