When I got to the fence, I was in a pickle for sure.

I didn't know what in the world to do with the eggs.
At last I unbuttoned my coat, put them in my apron front, gathered it up, and holding it between my teeth, started back.

I had to double more than ever on account of the eggs, and when I reached the floodgate it rocked like a branch in the wind; but I had to get back, so I rested and listened to the larks a while.

That was a good plan.

They were calling for mates, and what they said was so perfectly lovely, you couldn't think of anything else; and the less you thought about how that gate rocked, and how deep and swift the water ran, the better for you.