Bent back.

He bent over the Indian woman.

It was bent and he straightened it over his knee.

It was bent where it had struck the shoulder-blade.

They thrust bent-kneed along the road into a pine forest.

The rod bent in jerks, the trout pumping against the current.

The gypsy bent back, drew back his arms, the banderillos pointing at the bull.

Jack climbed up and bent down to go through the ropes and Walcott came over from his corner and pushed the rope down for Jack to go through.

Nick struck and the rod came alive and dangerous, bent double, the line tightening, coming out of water, tightening, all in a heavy, dangerous, steady pull.

George was coming down in telemark position, kneeling; one leg forward and bent, the other trailing; his sticks hanging like some insect’s thin legs, kicking up puffs of snow as they touched the surface and finally the whole kneeling, trailing figure coming around in a beautiful right curve, crouching, the legs shot forward and back, the body leaning out against the swing, the sticks accenting the curve like points of light, all in a wild cloud of snow.