He enjoyed splashing through the shallow pools on either side of the bridge.
Then, too, where the creek entered the swamp was a place of unusual beauty.

The water spread in darksome, mossy, green pools.

Water-plants and lilies grew luxuriantly, throwing up large, rank, green leaves.
Nowhere else in the Limberlost could be found frog-music to equal that of the mouth of the creek.

The drumming and piping rolled in never-ending orchestral effect, while the full chorus rang to its accompaniment throughout the season.
Freckles slowly followed the path leading from the bridge to the line.
It was the one spot at which he might relax his vigilance.

The boldest timber thief the swamp ever had known would not have attempted to enter it by the mouth of the creek, on account of the water and because there was no protection from surrounding trees.