For all at once with a roar and a rush, a wave of foam-crested water swept round the curve above them, and in an instant it was upon them, leaping into the boat, which was directly after a quarter filled, and turning the limpid trickling stream into a furious rushing torrent, which tossed the boat from side to side, nearly overturning it before sending it downward at a furious pace.
"Oh, Syd!" shrieked the girl, "what is it?"
"Sit still, and hold tight," he shouted. "Water—come down from the hills."
The boat steadied directly after, but glided down at a furious rate, promising to be capsized against one or other of the huge stones which lay in the stream, as the boy seized the pole and stood up to try and fend off the boat from the rocks or from being overturned against some projecting block at the side.
But it was impossible to keep standing, for in thrusting with the pole it slipped into a chink between two blocks of granite, stuck, and the next moment was snatched out of his hand. There was nothing for it but to sit down again, and to do that which he shouted to his sister.
"Hold on," he cried, "tight!"
And then away they went, sometimes head first, sometimes stern, and not only broadside but turning round and round as one end or the other of the punt crashed against some rock with a blow that threatened to shiver the boat to pieces.
"Oh," groaned the boy to himself, "if we had only had time to jump out!" But this was to himself, for he fought hard and bravely not to do or say anything likely to frighten the poor girl seated holding on with both hands in the front of the punt.
But Syd thought a great deal.
"We shall be upset directly," he thought, "or broken to pieces on the stones."