about three o'clock
Mr. Rowe called the lake Linnet Flash . Wherever the canal seemed to spread out , and then go on again narrow and like a river , the barge-master called these lakes `` flashes '' of the canal . There is no other flash on that canal so large or so beautiful as Linnet Lake , and in the middle of the lake lies the island . It was about three o'clock , the hottest part of a summer 's day , and Fred and I , rather faint with the heat , were sitting on a coil of rope holding a clean sheet , which Mr. Rowe had brought up from the cabin to protect our heads and backs from sunstroke . We had refused to take shelter below , and sat watching the fields and hedges , which seemed to palpitate in the heat as they went giddily by , and Mr. Rowe , who stood quite steady , conversing coolly with the driver . The driver had been on board for the last hour , the way being clear , and the old horse quite able to take care of itself and us , and he and the barge-master had pocket-handkerchiefs under their hats like the sou ' - wester flaps of the captain 's sea-friends . Fred had dropped his end of the sheet to fall asleep , and I was protecting us both , when the driver bawled some directions to the horse in their common language , and the barge-master said , `` Here 's a bit of shade for you , Master Fred ; '' and we roused up and found ourselves gliding under the lee of an island covered with trees .