After marching for an hour and a half, Fritz stopped for a few moments, nearly midway between the hermitage of Eberfurt and Falconhurst, before a stream which he did not know existed in this part of the district.
“That is something new,” he said.
“It certainly is,” Jenny answered. “I do not remember any stream in this place.”
“It is more like a canal,” Captain Gould remarked.
“You are right, captain,” said Fritz. “Mr. Wolston must have conceived the idea of drawing water from Jackal River to supply Swan Lake and keep it full during the hot weather, which would enable them to irrigate the land round Wood Grange.”
“Yes,” Frank went on, “it must have been your father, Dolly, who had that notion and carried it out.”
“Oh!” said Dolly. “But I expect your brother Ernest had a finger in the pie!”
“No doubt—our learned Ernest!” Fritz agreed.
“And why not the intrepid Jack—and M. Zermatt too?” Captain Gould enquired.
“Everybody, then,” said Jenny, laughing.