"You don't mind if I leave you on the other side?"
"Yes, I do. You hang on to Jill."
Mavis enticed Jill into the punt, where the dog sat in the stern in her usual self-possessed manner. Perigal struggled with the rope by which the punt was moored to the stump of a tree. Very soon, they were all adrift on the stream. They made little progress at first, merely scraping along the overhanging branches of pollard willows; now and again, the punt would disturb long-forgotten night lines, which, more often than not, had hooked eels that had been dead for many days. Mavis began to wonder if they would ever get across.
"Stand by!" cried Perigal suddenly, at which Mavis gripped both sides of the punt.
It was well she did so, for the next moment the punt swerved violently, to blunder quickly down stream as it felt the strength of the current.
"Are you frightened?" asked Perigal.
"Not a bit."
"Hold tight to the bank if your end strikes first."
"Right you are."
Perigal did his best to steer the punt, but without much success. Presently, the bows hit the side, at which Perigal clutched at the growth on the bank.