No sooner was Jean asleep than the boys decided the time had come for them to carry out a plan long since formed, but laid aside for a convenient season. At one side of the run was a little lake, formed where one of the boundary streams was dammed. A windmill carried water from this to a platform and upon this were iron tanks from which pipes carried water through the house. The boys had decided to climb to the top of the reservoir and slide down the pipes, which seemed to them would be an exciting performance. The climbing up was not difficult and Sandy took the first slide.
"It's great fun," he shouted. "Let me have another!" as he clambered up again.
"It's my turn," cried Fergus, astride of the pipe.
"Let me. You wait," said Sandy, who was used to playing alone and not to having any-one dispute with him.
"I tell you it's my turn!" Fergus' temper rose. "You don't play fair."
There was a scramble and a cry, both boys lost their balance and fell, and the sound of breaking glass crashed through the air.
Both mothers rushed to the scene to find two pairs of arms and legs waving wildly from the hot-bed, while broken glass was scattered hither and yon.
"You dreadful boys, you have fallen right into the flower beds and broken the glass! Are you badly hurt?" cried Mrs. McDonald, as each mother dragged out a son.
Very crestfallen were the boys as they stood up, their faces covered with scratches and Sandy's hand badly cut.
"What were you doing?" asked both mothers sternly.