"Of course I will."
"Reach out then on the off side of the load. The end of that lashing's fast to the after-basket line."
When I'd explained that two or three times, "I have it," she answered. "Loose!"
"Pull on the fore line of the diamond."
"Right. Oh, Jesse, I'm free!"
"Kneel on the mare's head, reach under the pannier, find the latego, and cast off."
She fumbled a while, and then reported all clear.
"Get off the mare."
In another moment Jones was standing up to shake herself, knee deep in the river, and with a slap I sent her off to join Swift at the top of the bank. Mrs. Trevor was sitting on a boulder, staring out over the rapids, her eyes set on something coming down mid-stream. Her face was all gray, and she clutched my hand, holding like grim death. As for me, I'd never reckoned that even a madman would try to swim the Fraser in clothes and boots.
"I can't bear it!" she cried, turning her face away. "Tell me—"