Linny gave her long yellow hair a shake, sending her straw hat into the bottom of the boat and her curls hanging loose all over her shoulders, as she took her place carefully so as to trim the boat, while Syd stepped in, took the pole once more, and sent the punt upstream a couple of hundred yards, before he laid down the little pole and began to look round for a likely place for a trout, while his sister's eyes wandered amongst the floral riches of the lofty fern-hung bank for the choicest flowers.
"I say, Lin," said Syd: "what's that?"
"That?"
"Yes: that grumbling noise."
"Thunder dying away in the hills," said the girl. "Push the boat to the other side. I want some of those orchids—out there in the sun."
But the boy did not speak; he sat down and began to look up toward the hills.
"I don't see any clouds over there," he said thoughtfully, "and yet that noise goes on. Here, Lin," he cried suddenly, and in an excited tone, "I'm going to push the boat in here. You jump out and climb up the bank."
"No," said the girl, "not yet. I want some of those orchids. Push the boat over there first."
"You do as I tell you," cried the boy firmly, and his brown face began to turn white. He stopped down to seize the pole, but he was too late, and dropped upon the seat in the stern again.
