The log moved in the sand.

The men had moved off up the road to sit in the dark and smoke out of range of the noise she made.

The Indian who was rowing them was working very hard, but the other boat moved further ahead in the mist all the time.

Its open hold covered with canvas and lashed tight, the sails of the schooner filled and it moved out into the open lake, carrying with it everything that had made the mill a mill and Hortons Bay, a town.

There was much traffic at night and many mules on the roads with boxes of ammunition on each side of their packsaddles and gray motortrucks that carried men, and other trucks with loads covered with canvas that moved slower in the traffic.

The schooner moved out of the bay toward the open lake carrying the two great saws, the traveling carriage that hurled the logs against the revolving, circular saws and all the rollers, wheels, belts and iron piled on a hull-deep load of lumber.