"Make her swim it!" he panted.

"Her feet mustn't touch here." George grunted.
A moment later all three were in the water, the tide swirling them sideways, sweeping Taffy against the mare.

His right hand touched her flank at every stroke.
The tide swept them upwards--upwards for fifteen yards at least, though the channel measured less than eight feet.

The child, who had been standing opposite the point where they took the water, hobbled wildly along shore.

The light on the cliff behind sank and rose again.
"The crutch," Taffy gasped.