Thus, hesitant, his snarling teeth not two yards from the canoe, he stood growling in futile indignation at the cranky craft's crankier occupants.
The girl who remained on shore plucked up enough panic-courage to catch her gaudy pink parasol by the ferule and to swing its heavy handle with all her fear-driven strength at Lad's skull.

Luckily, the aim was as bad as it was vehement.

The handle grazed the dog's shoulder, then struck the lake with a force that snapped the flimsy parasol in two.
Whereat the girl shrieked aloud; and scuttled back as Lad spun around to face her.
But she might as well have spared herself the scream.

She was in no danger.

True, the collie had whirled to seek and resent this new source of attack.