They had reached the lake, and were running along half a mile from the shore.  It was a hot day, with a fitful wind coming in puffs off the land, where, probably, it was scorching things considerably; but here, tempered by their swift motion, and by its path over the water, it was only cool and refreshing, and made their journey an easy matter. ’Possum had done a hard week’s work: it was pleasant to sit idly in the boat, watching the water cream away from the bow, and the waves sparkle under the sun’s rays.  They passed fishing boats, hurrying in to hand over their catch to the Bairnsdale steamer; and one or two motor-launches from the hotels, crammed with gaily-dressed summer visitors bent on a long day’s picnic, crossed their bows, the occupants glancing curiously at the unkempt girl in the sailing boat, who drew her battered felt hat over her brows, and concealed herself after the fashion of the ostrich.  ’Possum disliked all summer visitors. They were a useful species, in providing a market for eggs and vegetables, but nothing could have induced her to believe that they did not laugh at her.