As man shouted to man, each shouldered his peavy and came running ashore, eager question on his lips.
Tom North, leaning gracefully against the shaft of a peavy, looked up eagerly as his principal approached.
He spat upon the palms of his hands, and as he gripped the peavy the muscles of his huge forearm stood out like steel cables.
He struggled into his mackinaw and reached fer the peavy that lay where it had fallen beside the stove.
This man was standing on an extreme point, leaning on his peavy, watching the timbers float past.
