“It’s lovely!” he cried, jumping about, and splashing wildly.
Sanine watched him and then in leisurely fashion he also undressed, and took a header into the deeper part of the stream.
“You’ll be drowned,” cried Ivanoff.
“No fear!” was the laughing rejoinder, when Sanine, gasping, had risen to the surface.
The sound of their merry voices rang out across the river, and the green pasture-land. After a time they left the cool water, and lying down, naked in the grass, rolled over and over in it.
“Jolly, isn’t it?” said Ivanoff, as he turned to the sun his broad back on which little drops of water glistened.
“Here let us build tabernacles!”
“Deuce take your tabernacles,” cried Sanine merrily; “No tabernacles for me!”
“Hurrah!” shouted Ivanoff, as he began dancing a wild, barbaric dance. Sanine burst out laughing, and leaped about in the same way. Their nude bodies gleamed in the sun, every muscle showing beneath the tense skin.
“Ouf!” gasped Ivanoff.