Hang on!"
In the swelling did Hare felt the resistless pull of the current. As he
held on with both hands, hard pressed to keep his grasp, Silvermane
dipped over a low fall in the river. Then Hare was riding the rushing
water of an incline. It ended below in a red-crested wave, and beyond
was a chaos of curling breakers. Hare had one glimpse of Mescal
crouching low, shoulders narrowed and head bent; then, with one white
flash of the stallion's mane against her flying black hair, she went out
of sight in leaping waves and spray. Hare was thrown forward into the
backlash of the wave. The shock blinded him, stunned him, almost tore
his arms from his body, but his hands were so twisted in Silvermane's
tail that even this could not loosen them. The current threw him from
wave to wave. He was dragged through a caldron, blind from stinging
blows, deaf from the tremendous roar. Then the fierce contention of
waves lessened, the threshing of crosscurrents straightened, and he could
breathe once more. Silvermane dragged him steadily; and, finally, his
feet touched the ground. He could scarcely see, so full were his eyes of
the sandy water, but he made out Mescal rising from the river on
Silvermane, as with loud snorts he climbed to a bar.
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