were going to tumble on their heads and little stones and lumps of earth splashed in the water about them.
“We must turn back!” cried Bulka. But this they could not do; all Poor Cecco could manage was to keep as straight a course as possible in spite of the tumult, and very soon they shot out once more into the sunlight and open sky.
Everything looked very dazzling after the twilight under the bridge; it was like coming out into a new world. Great dragonflies swooped to and fro, and there were red and white and yellow flowers blooming along the green meadow-banks. On one of the flat bronze leaves with turned-up edges like a tea-tray, that floated on the stream, a frog sat. He was banded green and yellow, with gold eyes, and as the boat drew near he gave a loud mournful cry and dived into the water. A spotted mud turtle lay sunning himself on a log; he did not move, but watched them with black unwinking eyes as they drifted past, his wrinkled neck half drawn within his shell and his horny toes outstretched. Cows were grazing in the meadows on either side, and a little white dog who was out chasing water-rats, ran beside the boat for a long time on the river-bank, barking.
“Ah, if we only had some chocolate cake and peanuts candy!” thought Bulka.
But neither of them had thought to bring food, which is a great mistake on a voyage, for there were no shops along the river-bank, only grass and green rushes.
