a few days later the boys gathered together and strolled down to the beach, hoping something there would turn up to amuse them.

two or three schooners and a steamboat were moored at the wharf; but to-day they excited only a languid interest in the boys.

“if we could only go out on the lake,” will murmured, “it would be fun.”

“why, where should we go?” inquired one.

“oh, just out on the lake for a mile or so; or perhaps we might round the point and have a swim in our swimming-place.”

“well, then,” said jim, always with an eye to safety and comfort, “why not get out your father’s boat? wouldn’t it float us all? and it’s so safe!”

“yes,” said will, “it’s pretty safe—very safe in the boat-house. and the key of the boat-house is safer still, at home! that’s the way it goes, boys; and when i want a boat ride, i generally struggle around the best i can. it isn’t worth while to trudge home for it; because, most likely, we should find something else to do when we got there. but i think we can light on a craft of some sort if we scratch around a little.”

although will’s father owned a boat, the key of his boat-house was always kept at home; and poor will was about as much benefited as are most boys whose fathers own boats, and ponies, and carriages.

“i hanker for a boat ride,” charley said. “let us take the punt.”

[89]

“the punt, of course!” steve chimed in. “the punt is just what we want.”

“oh,” groaned jim, “the punt is dirty and worn out; and it leaks; and it tips over; and it won’t go; and an awful storm is going to come up!”

“look here, boys,” the sage began, “jim’s half-way right about that punt; it’s vulgar! and besides, it isn’t so safe as it ought to be. only the other day, i read about some boys that went out in a cockle-shell of a boat,—i suppose it meant a punt; only, as i told you, punt is very vulgar, too vulgar for this author, at any rate,—and all got drowned! and another thing; i’ve been reading about the weather lately, and i understand just how it goes now.”

and the sage looked so knowing that it was difficult for the boys to suppress their laughter. he was now casting intelligent glances at the sky, the birds, the grasshoppers, the lake, and even the ground. soon he spoke.

“boys,” he said, as impressively as he knew how, “i’m saying nothing rashly, but deliberately and—and—correctly. i’ve observed the weather indicators, and a dreadful storm is coming up fast! a storm that will stun an equinoctial, and tear germany all to pieces.”

and the meteorologist’s form swelled with science and satisfaction.

“whereas, on account of these gloomy auguries, resolved: that we go home and hide in the cellar hatchway till the storm is over,” charles commented.

“no, boys; i’m in earnest, and i don’t care to go out in the punt,” george said firmly.

“i want to inquire into this drowning affair,” steve said, “didn’t you read about it in a little gilt-edged story-book?”

“well, yes, i did,” george reluctantly acknowledged. “but, what of that?”

“only this, were they all bad boys?”

“come to think, they were.”

“that accounts for it then. they always put those solemn tales in books for little boys that get sick, and[90] can’t get out doors, to make ’em think that a sound boy is always bad, and that it’s better to be sick. but somehow the superintendent always make a muddle of it, and give all those books to little girls. my little sisters have got a big cigar box chock-full of ’em, endwise up, and i never got one!”

“yes, i know them; each nine chapters and a preface long,” said charley.

“they’re the ones,” said steve.

“what do your sisters do with them?” will asked.

“oh, they mostly build houses with ’em on rainy days,” steve answered. “now, we are not bad boys—never were. we are a first-rate crew, so let us go. but to please you, george, i’ll go and ask that sailor about the weather. i guess he ought to know, if anybody’s going to.”

without loss of time, steve went up to a sailor a little way off, and inquired, “bill, what sort of weather are we going to have to-day?”

“weather,” echoed bill, grinning good-humoredly. “well, look out for a rough gale; pretty rough and pretty long. yes, there’ll be an awful blow—a hurricane—a typhoon!” he added, remarking steve’s dissatisfied looks, and mistaking their cause. “why, who knows but that there’ll be a zephyr that’ll swoop the hold clean out of a vessel and carry a door-knob clean over a flag staff.”

stephen appeared more dissatisfied than ever; and the jocose sailor, who wished to please him, was about to give a startling account of what the weather might be; but more than satisfied, steve thanked him, and returned to the expectant five.

“well, what does he say?” will demanded.

stephen dejectedly repeated what the sailor had told him.

george was not in a humor to say, “i told you so!” on the contrary, he was furious against the sailor. he allowed his indignation to boil for a few moments, and then exclaimed, haughtily, “what does that man know about the weather? why, he doesn’t know any more about it than a caged dromedary. why, he’s nothing but a lubber—a fresh-water sailor—a stone-boater—a—a—”

[91]

“and, besides,” chimed in marmaduke, “that isn’t the way a genuine sailor talks. he must be some disguised—”

“yes, of course it isn’t; of course he is;” george broke in. “he is some disguised vagabond, trying to humbug us fellows. come along, boys; i’m going with you in that punt, through thick and thin, in the teeth of every lubberly sailor, and wishy-washy weather indicator, and high toned thunder-storm, that ever astonished anybody!”

this strikes the key-note to the sage’s character.

but stephen was angered. “see here, george,” he exclaimed, “that man is an honest sailor and a decent fellow, and you just let him alone!”

the boys, thinking time enough had been fooled away, then made a rush for the punt. this punt was an old derelict, heavy, unwieldy, full of chinks, and boasting of only two crazy poles, called “oars,” or “paddles,” or “sculls,” according to the humor of the wretch who gallanted them. no one could step into this craft without getting wet; and why it was kept there, or what use it was to the community, was unknown; for no one, except a few freckled and grimy street urchins, ever shoved off in it. perhaps it was kept for them!

the six, however, had urged their way round the wharf in it.

“come along, jim!” steve shouted, seeing that timor lagged behind.

“such a dirty boat to get into!” jim objected. “and i’ve got my good clothes on, too!”

“come, now, jim, you and george are altogether too careful of your clothes. if they are so new and good, or so old and rotten, that you can’t go with us, then stay at home. hurry up, you’ve got to go with us,” and steve forced him in—an unwilling passenger.

and so the adventurous boys embarked in this dirty and dilapidated craft, with which time, so to speak, had worked wonders.

“how are we to make the crazy thing go?” will asked, when fairly afloat, looking around in vain for any motive power.

[92]

it is always thus with boys. not till their own imprudence plunges them into difficulties, do they pause to consider what it all means, and what they had better do. when a boy is small he clambers upon the roof of his father’s barn, enjoys the perspective for one brief moment, and then ruminates as to how he shall get down. his mother sees him, and with tears in her eyes and dismay at her heart, tears out of the house, and exclaims, “oh, johnnie, why did you get up there?” then the little innocent answers stoutly, “well, ma, i reckoned if i could get up, i could get down again. now, you jest watch, and i’ll climb down like a spider. don’t be afraid, ma, it’s nice up here; i can see mr. morley’s shed,” (the object which bounds his view.) when older, he “volunteers;” girds on his uniform with swelling heart; breathes the word patriotism with lover-like tenderness,—and then! ah! then he fears to confront his father.

“botheration!” cried stephen, “we’ve left those oars on shore! there they are; behind reichter’s boat-house. back her up, boys, and i’ll jump out and get ’em.”

poor sea-farers! in their eagerness to be off they had “set sail” without the “oars.” after a great struggle, they succeeded in urging the punt back so that steve could jump ashore. then the dauntless young voyagers told off the crew, and struck out gallantly.

“now, tim,” said stephen, “if you’ll take that old oyster-can, and bale out this vessel, you’ll feel so much at home that you’ll be happy; and bye-and-bye i’ll help you.”

“it has no business to leak,” jim grumbled. “but i told you it did!” he added, triumphantly.

“of course it does; what’s a boat, if it doesn’t leak?” steve snorted.

on they went; drifting, paddling, and sculling; laughing and joking. it seemed so joyous and secure that even timor lost his uneasiness. before they had determined whither they were going, the abutments of the wharf were passed, and they were fairly out on the lake. the farther they went, the higher their spirits rose, and the more jocose they became. not one of them troubled himself about a storm.

[93]

“well, boys, we can round the point, and have our swim right along. let us do it,” said will.

“yes, i haven’t had a swim in the lake for three weeks!” jim solemnly declared, as he rested a few minutes from baling out the punt.

the others were duly astonished at this (we say it boldly) neglect of duty.

steve, who was tugging lustily at his oar, called out to george, the helmsman: “fetch her around, there, old fellow; brace about for the shore, will you? don’t be so lubberly, now, or you’ll keel her over. hug her up for the shore, i tell you!”

“look here, stephen goodfellow, i can navigate this dingy without so many orders; so, let me alone!” the helmsman retorted, indignantly.

“now, boys,” said will, “if we are mariners, let us behave ourselves. a captain and his crew always act in harmony, like a drummer’s drum and a tooter’s horn.”

“of course,” chimed in charley. “they don’t wrangle like a couple of bumpkins of boys in their collarless shirt sleeves.”

“what’s a dingey?” asked jim.

“i—i believe it isn’t in my dictionary; but it’s a good-for-nothing craft, that is always an eyesore to the noodle that harbors it,” said george.

the punt was headed for the beach; but a decided swell, which had hitherto been in their favor, was now against them, and progress was slow. by dint of exertion however, in the course of time, they grounded their craft at the water’s edge, and sprang out to enjoy their bath. the gloomy speculations about the weather were forgotten, and not one noticed the threatening clouds looming up in the west.

the old sailor had not trifled with them; a storm was brewing.

although their swimming-place was somewhat difficult of approach, it was retired and delightful, the great resort of all the swimmers in the neighborhood. that was the only drawback; it was too much resorted to by swimmers. but to-day the boys had it all to themselves.

[94]

“well,” said marmaduke, as he plunged into the water, “we boys and the rest of the folks are acquainted with a good place to swim in, as the frenchman would say.”

“never mind the frenchman now, marmaduke;” replied will; “english will float you through the world.”

jim had hardly stepped into the water when he cried out, “oh, boys, the water is too cold and nasty; i’m shi-i-ivering!”

“well, then,” sang out steve, whose head was bobbing up and down some thirty yards from the shore, “bundle on your clothes, and play the anchor to that punt. it’ll drift across the lake, if somebody doesn’t take charge of it.”

but it was cold and disagreeable, and their swimming was of short duration. they waded ashore with chattering teeth, and huddled on their clothes as quickly as their shivering limbs would permit.

“boys, suppose that we go home by land?” steve proposed. “it wouldn’t be so very far, and then it would be a change.”

“that’s a capital idea, steve; but what would become of the dingey? we mus’n’t leave it here,” said will.

“then let us make off.”

without delay the six took their places in the punt, and shoved off.

there was now not only a perceivable swell, but also a perceivable breeze. in a word, the scullers found that it was unnecessary to handle their sculls, for the punt drifted merrily seaward without a stroke from them.

“look here, boys,” cried the sage, prefacing his remarks, as usual, with his darling expression, “we could hardly make the shore a while ago; and now just see how fast we are drifting out! i don’t believe we could get back to our swimming place; let us try it.”

“let us be glad that we are getting a boat-ride without work,” was steve’s foolish comment.

but his fellow-voyagers considered the matter in a different light, and tried to back the oars. they could still do so, but only by putting forth all their strength. their situation was now so critical that they turned pale with dread.

[95]

“o dear!” gasped timor, too frightened to say more.

“why didn’t we go home by land!” steve ejaculated.

“pity we didn’t do that,” will said. “before we could row ashore, the swell would be too much for us, wouldn’t it?”

“of course it would,” george answered.

“and we’re almost too far from shore to swim to it,” charles asked, rather than said.

“couldn’t swim there without getting the cramps, charley,” will replied, in a hoarse whisper.

“look to the west!” jim cried in terror. “oh, boys! i’ve got ’em! got the chills! dreadful chills! awful chills! o boys! we shall all be drowned! we’ll perish! we’ll be drownded! drownded to death! oh! what a dreadful storm!”

all looked towards the west, and saw that a storm was almost upon them. the black clouds piling up were certainly ominous; the breeze was getting stiffer every minute; the lake was getting rougher.

“well boys we’re caught!” stephen said gravely. poor boy! all his mirth had forsaken him.

but it was now convenient for george to remember that he had prognosticated a storm; and, forgetting the incident of the “disguised” sailor, he exclaimed, “yes steve, we’re in a tight place. but i was right about the storm, boys.”

steve was too much flurried to remind the boy that he had arrived at a different conclusion, scouted the idea of a storm, and determined to accompany them.

“well, boys,” said marmaduke, “this is a storm at sea: let us enjoy it while it lasts.”

“no, marmaduke, let us be thankful that it is not a storm at sea,” will replied. “as for enjoying it, that would be pretty hard work. don’t you know that we are in danger?”

“o dear! what will become of us!” jim groaned.

the shock was wearing off now; and charley found courage to ask, jocularly, “is that all you have to say, marmaduke? i expected something better from you.”

steve put in promptly, though he was still very much[96] discomposed: “oh, marmaduke’s mouth is full of words; he’s only puzzling which to say first.”

“look here, boys,” said the sage, “how far astray was i about the weather?”

“very far, george; nearly as far as that miserable stone-boater,” steve answered maliciously.

this nettled george, and he asked testily in a grum voice, “what about the little books now, steve? don’t you think they were right enough?”

“well, george, it seems like it, surely enough,” steve acknowledged.

“don’t say spiteful things when we are in such danger,” charles here interposed. “and besides,” he added, “we are all in the same scrape, and no one is to blame for it. so, let us lay our wise heads together, and try to save ourselves.”