It's running down.

We shall get plenty of fish now." "Why, there's somebody bathing down below there," cried another of the boys.
"Yes, and can't he swim!" "Let's all have a bathe," cried young Day.
"Ah, come on: it will be jolly here.

Who's first in ?" I looked on half in amazement, for directly after catching sight of the head of some lad in the water about a couple of hundred yards below us, who seemed to be swimming about in the cool water with the greatest ease, my companions began to throw off caps and jackets, and to untie and kick off their boots.
"But we haven't got any towels," cried George Day.
"Towels!" cried one of the others; "why, the sun will dry us in five minutes; come on.

What a day for a swim!" It did look tempting there at the bottom of that green meadow, deep in grass and with the waving trees to hide us from observation, though there was not a house within a mile, nor, saving an occasional barge with a sleepy man hanging over the tiller, a boat to be seen, and as I watched the actions of my companions, I, for the first time in my life, felt the desire to imitate them come on me strongly.
They were not long undressing, one kicking off his things anyhow, another carefully folding them as he took them off, and tucking his socks inside his boots.

But careful and careless alike, five minutes had not elapsed before to my delight George Day, who was a boy of about fourteen, ran back a dozen yards from the river's brink and threw up his arms.
"One, two, three, cock warning!" he shouted, ran by me swiftly, and plunged into the river with a tremendous splash.
I felt horrified, but the next moment his head reappeared bobbing about, and he swam along easily and well.
"Oh it's so lovely," he cried.