"Ugh!" said Aileen, shivering a little. "I don't like this place. Let us turn back."
So they turned and drifted into wholesome blue water, passing the blacks' little camp and the gullies and clearings that led back to the country they knew. In one gully they moored the boat and made their fire, eating their luncheon among the limbs of a fine old tree that had fallen and lay upon its side, its gnarled-boughs making splendid natural arm-chairs. The birds were very tame: one little brown honey-eater came hopping near them for crumbs, and finally perched on the toe of Tom's boot, where it remained in a quaint attitude of alert attention. Then they fished the pools, with varying success, and at last gave it up and travelled swiftly down the arm until they reached the lake itself. For the last half-mile there was little need for the engine. The current had been steadily growing in power; at length it whisked them round bend after band, until it brought them out into the open water, and set swiftly towards the Entrance, where the great grey piers guarded the lane of water that led out to the breakers.
"You wouldn't have much chance if you drifted out here without oars," 'Possum remarked. "The current joins the one that sweeps down the lakes from ever so far up, an' don't they just race out to sea! There was a party of girls in a boat—visitors—got into that current last year, an' went bobbin' along towards the Entrance. They'd been told it was risky, so they lost their heads an' dropped an oar, an' then, of course, they had no chance at all."
"Were they taken out?" Aileen asked.
"No, but it was luck they weren't. They were mighty close to the Entrance when some people in a motor-boat saw 'em an' chased 'em—just managed to stop 'em in time. They'd have been in the surf in three minutes, an' no boat could live there unless it was jolly well handled. You'll see the fishing-boats comin' in sometimes, when they've been out with the nets after a shoal of salmon, and it just is exciting! Even with four good men pullin', it's risky enough to bring a big boat through those breakers. Dad seen one turned clean over one day, an' one man was caught underneath it an' killed. An' that was a great big sea-goin' fishin'-boat, not the sort of little cockle-shell thing that people pull round on the lakes."
"Poor chap! I did not know that the fishermen went outside the entrance: I thought they only fished in the lakes," Tom remarked.
"They fish wherever they can earn a livin'," said 'Possum drily.
They came out upon the wide surface of the lake, and ran across to a bay that nearly always held fish. To-day it lived up to its reputation, and soon they were hauling out whiting and big pink schnapper, whose sides were like live opal as they came out of the water. Tom fished scientifically, with a rod that was the pride of his heart: the others bobbed cheerfully with hand lines and sinkers, and were filled with joy because their results were as good. Their basket was full when they turned homewards in the evening.
"Tell about the time when Joe got bushed, 'Possum," Garth pleaded.
"That ain't anything to tell about," said 'Possum reprovingly. "And besides, you know already."