In a minute she had the wagon turned and we were on the north road.

Indeed, the wagon had turned the corner and they were heading south now, no longer west.

A few minutes later the wagon and the patrol turned into a muddy courtyard.

Sure enough, the wagon leaned to the right and then turned ponderously to the left.

I stopped, got the wagon turned around, and cut the engine.

The wagon tipped straight down, bounced once, and turned completely over just as it hit the water.

The wagon turned into the driveway and stopped at a flight of wooden steps that led up to a long porch.

Long after dark he heard the wagon rumble across the bridge and turn into an area just outside of town.

Then, one afternoon, she was running towards me when I saw a wagon turn the corner.

Already the wagons that had been assembled to enter the gates were turning away.