So I got on the fence and with my feet on the third rail, and holding by the top one, I walked sidewise, and so going reached the floodgate.

It was pretty wobbly, but I thought I could cross on the run.

I knew I could if I dared jump at the other end; but there the water was over the third rail, and that meant above my head.
It was right at that time of spring when you felt so good you thought you could do most anything, except fly--I tried that once--so I went on.

The air was cold for all the sun shone, the smell of catkin pollen, bursting buds, and the odour of earth steaming in the sun, was in every breath; the blackbirds were calling, and the doves; the ganders looked longingly at the sky and screamed a call to every passing wild flock, and Deams' rooster wanted to fight all creation, if you judged by the boasting he was doing from their barnyard gate.

He made me think of eggs, so I set my jaws, looked straight ahead, and scooted across the floodgate to the post that held it and the rails of the meadow fence.