The boat was gliding along over the sparkling water close in now to the western shore, whose banks were invisible, being covered by a dense growth of tree and climber, many of whose strands dipped into the river, while umbrageous trees spread and drooped their branches, so that it would have been possible to row or paddle in beneath them in one long, bowery tunnel close to the bank.
“Going to have a wash?” said Joe, breaking in upon Rob’s contemplative fit of rapture as he gazed with hungry eyes at the lovely scene.
“Wash? Oh yes!” cried Rob, starting, and he fetched a rough towel out of the tent, went to the side, and hesitated.
“Hadn’t we better have a swim?” he said. “You’ll come?”
“Not him,” growled Shaddy. “What yer talking about? Want to feed the fishes?”
“Rubbish! I can swim,” said Rob warmly; and leaning over the side, he plunged his hands into the water, sweeping them about.
“Deliciously cool!” he cried. “Oh!”
He snatched out his right and then his left, and as he did so a little silvery object dropped into the water.
Joe looked on in silence, and a peculiar smile came over Shaddy’s countenance as he saw Rob examine the back of his hand.
“Something’s been biting me in the night,” he said. “It bleeds.”