"That's a fact," said William Gage. "Wouldn't it be a better plan for us to meet in the woods, at the back of Mrs. Nelson's lot? Let us all be there at eight o'clock; and, if no two of us go in company, no one will be the wiser for it."

"That is the best plan," said Charles. "Now, remember, don't say any thing about it."

"All right!" was the answer; and, in a few moments more, the Rangers were on their way home.

The next evening, at seven o'clock, Charles left his home, and, avoiding the principal streets as much as possible, started toward the place of rendezvous, where he arrived at almost precisely the time agreed upon. He found the Rangers all waiting for him; and, as it was already dark, it was decided to commence operations immediately.

"We want a guide," said Charles, who, of course, was captain of the Rangers. "Who knows exactly where that strawberry-bed lies? for, if we have to fumble about much, we shall start that dog, and then, it strikes me, from what I have seen and heard of him, we shall be in a predicament."

"You may safely bet on that," said one of the boys; "he's a savage fellow."

"And a first-rate watch-dog, too," observed another.

"Well," said Charles, "all we have to do is to move so still that you can't hear a leaf rustle; but, if we do rouse the dog, let each one grab a stone and let him have it."

"That would only make a bad matter worse," said one.

"I am afraid we shall have more than we bargained for, if we undertake that," remarked another.

"Let the cowards go home, and the rest come with me," said Charles, impatiently. "Bill," he continued, turning to his right-hand man, "can you act as guide?"

"Yes."

"Then, lead on."

William led the way out of the woods, across a narrow meadow, where they came to the fence that inclosed Mrs. Nelson's garden.

"Now, boys," he whispered, "keep still as mice; but, if we do start the dog, don't stop to fight him, but run like white-heads."

The Rangers climbed over the fence, and followed their guide, who threaded his way through the trees and bushes with a skill worthy of a better cause, and a few moments sufficed to bring them to the strawberry-patch.

"Be careful, boys," said Charles, in a low whisper. "Don't leave a single plant in the ground."

The young scapegraces worked with a will, and, in a few moments, the strawberry-bed—which was Frank's pride, next to his museum, and on which he had expended a great amount of labor—was almost ruined; and so quietly did they proceed in their work of wanton destruction, that Brave, although a very vigilant dog, was not aroused, and the marauders retraced their steps, and reached the woods in safety.

"There," said Charles, at length, "that's what I call doing it up brown. It almost pays off my debts. I don't think they will receive much benefit from those strawberries this year."

"They have got some nice pears," said one of the Rangers, "and when they get ripe, we must plan another expedition."

"That's so," answered Charles. "But we must not forget that we have others to settle with; and we must meet, some time next week, and determine who shall be visited next."

On the following morning, Frank arose, as usual, at four o'clock, and, shouldering his fish-pole, started off through the woods to catch a mess of trout, intending to be back by breakfast-time. But, as the morning was cloudy, the trout bit voraciously, and in the excitement of catching them, he forgot that he was hungry, and it was almost noon before he reached home.

As soon as he entered the house, Aunt Hannah exclaimed,

"Master Frank, you were altogether too good to Lee Powell, the other night."

"What makes you think so?" he inquired.

At this moment Julia, hearing his voice, burst in from the dining-room, exclaiming,

"Frank, the Hillers have robbed your strawberry-patch!"

"Not robbed it, exactly," said his mother, who had followed close after Julia, "but they have completely ruined it. There are not a dozen plants left in the ground."

Frank was so surprised that he could scarcely utter a word; and, hardly waiting to hear what his mother said, he hurried from the house toward the strawberry-patch. It did, indeed, present a strange and desolate appearance. The bed had covered nearly half an acre; and, so well had the Rangers performed their work, that but few plants were left standing. The sight was enough to upset even Frank's well-established patience, and he exclaimed,

"If I had the rascals that did this mischief, I could pay them for it, without troubling my conscience much."

"You must tell Lee Powell, the next time you see him," said Julia, who had followed him, "that he ought not to—"

"Lee didn't do it," said Frank.

"What makes you think so?"

"See here," said Frank, bending over a footprint in the soft earth; "the Hillers all go bare-foot, and these fellows wore boots. I know who did it, as well as if I had seen them. It was the work of Charles Morgan and a few of his particular friends. They must have been very still about it, for Brave didn't hear them."

"I don't see what object they had in doing it," said Julia.

"I know what they did it for," said Frank; "and if I ever catch—But," he added, checking himself, "there's no use in grumbling about it; no amount of fretting will repair the damage."

So saying, he led the way toward the house.

It did not take him long to don his working-suit, and, shouldering his hoe, he returned to the strawberry-bed, and, in less than an hour, the plants were all in the ground again.



CHAPTER VIII.

How to Spend the "Fourth."

That evening, after supper, Frank retired to his room, and, settling himself in his comfortable armchair, was soon deeply interested in one of Bayard Taylor's works. While thus engaged, a light step was heard in the hall, and, afterward, a gentle rap at his door, and Julia came into the room.

"Now, Frank," she began, "I don't want you to read to-night."

"Why not?" he inquired.

"Why, you know that day after to-morrow is the Fourth of July, and—"

"And you haven't got your fire-works yet?" interrupted Frank.

"That's it, exactly."

"Well," said her brother, rising to put away his book, "then, I suppose, I shall have to go down to the village and get you some. What do you want?"

"I want all the things that are written down on this paper."

Frank took the paper and read, "Three packs of fire-crackers, four boxes of torpedoes, three Roman candles, half a dozen pin-wheels, and a dozen sky-rockets."

"Whew!" said Frank, as he folded up the paper and put it into his pocket, "that's what I should call going it strong! Well, I'll tell Mr. Sheldon [the store-keeper] to send up all the fire-works he has got."

Julia burst into a loud laugh, and, the next moment, Frank and Brave were out of the gate, on their way to the village.

In the mean time several of Frank's acquaintances had been amusing themselves on the village common with a game of ball. At length it grew too dark for their sport to continue, and one of the boys proposed that they should decide upon some pleasant way of spending the Fourth.

In spite of the humiliating defeat which Charles Morgan and his companions had sustained, they were present; and the former, who had been making every exertion to regain the good-will of the village boys, exclaimed,

"Let's go hunting."

"No, no," shouted several.

"The game in the woods isn't good for any thing this time of year, Charley," said James Porter, who, although he cordially disliked Charles, always tried to treat him kindly.

"Who cares for that?" exclaimed Charles, who, having always been accustomed to lead and govern his city associates, could not endure the steadfastness with which these "rude country boys," as he called them, held to their own opinions. Although, during the whole afternoon, he had been endeavoring to work himself into their favor, he was angry, in an instant, at the manner in which they opposed his proposition. He had been considerably abashed at his recent defeat, and he knew that it had humbled him in the estimation of the Rangers, who, although they still "held true" to him, had changed their minds in regard to the prowess of their leader, and began to regard him, as one of them remarked, as a "mere bag of wind."

Charles was not long in discovering this, and he determined to seize the first opportunity that was offered to retrieve his reputation.

Hastily casting his eyes over the group that surrounded him, he discovered that Frank and Harry, the ones he most feared, were still absent. This was exactly what he had wished for. With the assistance of his companions, the Rangers, who, he was confident, would uphold him, he could settle up all old scores, without fear of suffering in return.

Addressing himself to James, he continued, in an insulting tone,

"We don't go to get the game to eat, you blockhead, but only for the sport of killing it."

"I know that," answered James, in a mild voice, not the least disconcerted by the other's furious manner; "but wouldn't it be better to—"

"Shut up!" shouted Charles. "I'll do just as I please. Besides, I never allow any one to dictate to me."

"I didn't intend to dictate at all, Charley. I was going to say—"

"Are you going to keep still," roared the bully, "or shall I make you?"

And he began to advance toward James.

"See here, old fellow," said Ben. Lake, suddenly striding up, and placing himself directly in front of Charles, "don't begin another fight, now."

"I'll show you whether I will or not!" exclaimed Charles; and, turning to the Rangers, he continued, "Come on, boys! We can have things all our own way now. We'll see if—"

"Hold on!" shouted William Johnson. "Here comes Frank. Now you had better take yourself off in a hurry."

Charles's hostile demonstrations ceased in an instant; and, hastily whispering a few words to the Rangers, they disappeared.

In a few moments, Frank, accompanied by George and Harry, arrived, and the boys, in a few words, explained to them what had just happened.

"I hope," said Frank, "that Charley will see, before long, how unreasonably he acts. He makes himself, and every one around him, uncomfortable."

"Well," said James Porter, "all I have got to say is that those fellows who go with him are very foolish. However, we can't help it. But, come," he added, "we were trying to find some pleasant way of spending the Fourth."

"Let's have a picnic on Strawberry Island," said one.

"We want something exciting," said another "Let's have a boat-race."

"Come, Frank," said Ben. Lake, "let's hear what you have got to say. Suggest something."

"Well," answered Frank, who was always ready with some plan for amusement, "I have been thinking, for two or three days, of something which, I believe, will afford us a great deal of sport. In the first place, I suppose, we are all willing to pass part of the day on the river?"

"Yes, of course," answered the boys.

"The next thing," continued Frank, "is to ascertain how many sail-boats we can raise."

"I'll bring mine."

"And mine," called out several voices.

"Oh, that's no way to do business," exclaimed William Johnson, who always liked to see things go off in order. "Let all those who have boats hold up their hands."

Sixteen hands came up, and Frank said,

"We shall be gone all day, and, of course, we want plenty of provisions."

"Of course."

"Well, then, what I thought of proposing is this: Let us take three or four of the swiftest sailing-boats, and give the provisions into their charge, and call them smugglers, and let the other boats play the part of revenue-cutters, or a blockading squadron, and let the smugglers try to land the provisions on Strawberry Island, without being caught."

"That's capital!" shouted several.

"It's better than shooting game, at this time of year," said one.

"Yes, and being scolded all day by that tyrant," observed another, who had belonged to the Regulators.

"It will take some time to make all our arrangements," said William, "and I move that we adjourn to our house, where we can hold our meeting in order."

This was readily assented to, and William led the way, followed by all the boys, who were highly delighted at Frank's plan of spending the Fourth.

George Butler was speedily chosen president of the meeting, and, in less than half an hour, their arrangements were completed.

The Speedwell, Champion, and Alert—the latter a fine little schooner, owned by George and Harry—were to act the part of smugglers, and Ben. Lake and Thomas Benton, who had no boats, were chosen by the smugglers to assist them. The provisions, of which each boy was expected to furnish his share, were all to be left at Mr. Butler's boat-house by six o'clock on the following evening, where they were to be taken charge of by the smugglers, of whom Frank was chosen leader. It was also understood that the smugglers were to carry the provisions all in one boat, and were to be allowed to take every possible advantage of the "men-o'-war," and to make every effort to land the provisions on the island.

The other thirteen boats, which were to act as "coast-guards," were to be under the command of Charles Sheldon, a shrewd, cunning fellow, who had the reputation of being able to handle a sail-boat as well as any boy in the village.

The coast-guards were also divided into divisions of three boats each, and a captain was appointed for each division.

These arrangements, as we have said, were speedily completed; and, although the coast-guards were almost wild with delight at the prospect of the exciting times that would occur during the race, they were confident that the smugglers could be easily caught, and even some of the smugglers themselves seemed to think that their chances of landing the provisions were small indeed.

As the meeting was about to break up, one of the coast-guards exclaimed,

"We'll have easy times catching you smugglers."

"Do you think so?" asked Harry Butler. "It would be funny if you should slip up on it, wouldn't it?"

"We'll risk that," said another, "for we've got thirteen boats to your three."

"I say, Frank," said Charles Sheldon, "don't you think we can catch you?"

"Oh, yes," answered Frank, "easily enough, if you only try. Now, boys," he continued, "remember that we want all the refreshments left at Mr. Butler's boat-house, by six o'clock to-morrow evening."

They all promised to be on hand, and the meeting broke up.

But the coast-guards gathered in little knots in front of the house, or walked slowly toward home, talking the matter over, and congratulating themselves on the easy manner in which the capture of the "contrabands" was to be effected.

The smugglers remained together, and, as soon as the others were out of hearing, George inquired,

"Do you think we can give them the slip?"

"Yes," answered Frank, "I am certain we can. We must not think of beating them in sailing, because there are too many of them, but we must outwit them."

"What do you propose to do?" inquired Ben.

"We must get up in the morning before they do."

"We shall be obliged to get up at twelve o'clock, then," said Thomas.

"I had rather stay up all night than have them beat us," said Harry.

"Well, boys," said George, "you must all come and sleep at our house to-morrow night. Some of us will be sure to wake up early, and, I think, we shall have no trouble in getting the start of the coast-guards."

The boys spent some time in talking over their plans, and, finally, reluctantly separated, and started for home.



CHAPTER IX.

The Coast-guards Outwitted.

About three o'clock in the afternoon of the following day, Frank bade his mother and sister good-by, and he and Brave got into the Speedwell, and sailed slowly down the creek. He found the Champion already moored at Mr. Butler's dock, and the smugglers were all waiting for him. As soon as he landed, Ben. Lake said,

"Frank, it is a gone case with us. I know we shall be caught."

"You think so, do you?" asked Frank, as if not at all concerned.

"Yes, I'm certain of it. I overheard some conversation among the coast-guards, this afternoon, and one of them said that Charley Sheldon would have the whole fleet anchored before the mouth of the creek at half-past two to-morrow morning."

"Besides," said William Johnson, "they are all going to sleep in their boats to-night, and the North Star and Sampson are to act as police."

"And I heard Charley Sheldon say," chimed in Harry, "that strict watch must be kept of the Speedwell, and no attention paid to the other boats."

"That's all right," said Frank. "I'm glad of it."

"Why are you?" asked George, in surprise. "You know, we agreed to carry the provisions all in one boat, and yours is the only one that will hold them all."

"I tell you, Frank, we're gone suckers," said Ben.

"You fellows seem to be pretty well posted as to the coast-guards' intentions," said Frank.

"Yes," said George; "we've been spying about and playing eavesdroppers all day."

"I have learned one thing to-day," said Frank, "that pleased me very much, and that is that the coast-guards intend to keep spies about the boat-house all night."

"Why does that please you?" inquired Harry. "Do you want them to discover all our plans, so that they may be ready for us?"

"By no means. I'll risk good deal that they will not learn more than we want them to know. I've thought of a way to set them on the wrong scent, and, from what I have heard, I think it will work first-rate."

"What is it?"

"I'll show you in half a minute," said Frank, "All we have got to do is to fool the spies; then we are all right."

At this moment several boys, belonging to the blockading squadron, entered the boat-house, bringing their refreshments, and this, of course, put a stop to all further conversation between the smugglers.

By six o'clock the last basket of provisions had been brought in, and the coast-guards took their departure, after repeatedly assuring the smugglers that their capture was certain.

The provisions had been brought in twenty medium-sized market-baskets, and one large clothes-basket that belonged to George and Harry, and seven pails. There was, also, a small bag filled with lemons, which had been brought by Charles Sheldon.

The boys stood for some time looking at them without speaking. At length, Thomas Benton said,

"You will have to carry them, Frank. They will make too large a load for either of the other boats."

"I know that," said Frank; "but we must make the coast-guards think that the Alert is going to carry them."

"How can we manage that?" inquired George.

"Have you got three or four market-baskets, a clothes-basket, one or two pails, and a salt-bag?" asked Frank, without stopping to answer George's question.

"I guess so," said Harry. "I'll go up to the house and see."

He led the way, followed by three or four of the smugglers, and the articles in question were soon brought into the boat-house.

"Now, Bill," said Frank, "you take this salt-bag, if you please, and fill it with smooth, round stones, about the size of lemons."

"All right," answered William, who began to see through the trick.

"Now," continued Frank, "we want some pieces of cloth, large enough to tie over the tops of these baskets and pails."

These were speedily procured, and, in a few moments, William returned with the salt-bag filled with stones.

"Now, tell us what you intend to do," exclaimed Harry, whose patience was well-nigh exhausted.

"We are making some sham provisions," said Frank.

"Oh, yes, I thought so," said Thomas; "but we haven't got pails and baskets enough."

"Oh, that's nothing," said Frank. "We'll fill half a dozen of these old bags with shavings, and, as soon as it grows dark, we'll pull the Alert alongside the wharf, and tumble these sham provisions into her; then we will cover them up with that piece of sail, as if we wanted to keep them dry. We'll be sure to fool the men-o'-war."

"I don't exactly see it," said Thomas.

"Why," said Harry, "as soon as we are out of sight, their spies, who are, of course, watching every movement, will go and tell Charley Sheldon that we have got the things stowed away in the Alert."

"That's very well, as far as you go," said Ben; "but suppose they should mistrust that something is in the wind, and should go to work and examine the provisions?"

"What if they do?" said Frank. "It will be too dark for them to make much of an examination; and, if they put their hands into the boat, they will feel the baskets and pails there, and will go away satisfied."

The boys now saw through the trick, and there was no longer any feeling of doubt in their minds. They were now as certain of success as they had before been of being captured.

In a few moments the "sham provisions," as Frank had called them, were all completed, and, placing them where they could be easily taken out, they locked the door, to prevent surprise, and started for the house.

As they were about to enter the gate, George suddenly exclaimed,

"See there!"

The boys looked in the direction George indicated, and saw the blockading squadron, with the exception of two boats, anchored in the creek, just opposite the long dock. The North Star, a fine, swift-sailing little schooner, was anchored near the middle of the stream, and a boy sat in the stern sheets, reading a book. The Sampson, a very large sloop-rigged boat, was standing up the creek, under full sail. These were the "police boats," and they were taking their stations.

"I wonder where the Sampson is going," said Harry.

"She's going to take her station in Duck's Creek," said Ben.

Upon hearing this, Harry's expectations fell again.

"It's no use," he exclaimed. "Charley Sheldon knows too much for us."

"Not a bit," said Frank. "This arrangement is only for to-night. When we get up in the morning, we shall find the boats all out in the river."

This immediately reassured Harry; and, after watching the Sampson until she disappeared in Duck's Creek, he led the way to the house.

After supper, as soon as it began to grow dark, they proceeded to put their plans into execution; but, before they started, Frank said,

"Now, boys, we must watch and see how the trick takes, for I know that there are spies now around that boat-house. As soon as we get the sham provisions into the boat, one or two of us had better slip down into the willows behind the wharf, and see what course things are going to take."

"Well," said Harry, "suppose you and Bill act as spies."

"Agreed. Come on, but don't act as if you suspected anything."

And he led the way toward the boat-house.

Two of the boys busied themselves in bringing out the sham provisions, and the others brought the Alert alongside, and fastened her to the dock, in front of the boat-house. Frank and Harry then got down into the boat, and the other boys passed the provisions down to them, and they placed them in such a manner as to take up as much space as possible. They were soon all stowed away, and covered over with a large sail, as if to keep off the dew.

Ben and George then got into a small skiff that lay at the dock, and towed the Alert out into the middle of the creek, and anchored her. As soon as this was done they returned, and the smugglers began to amuse themselves by pushing each other about the wharf. They all appeared to enter heartily into the sport, and kept nearing the willows which extended along the bank of the creek, close to the wharf, and Frank and William, watching their opportunity, concealed themselves, and the others ran toward the house. They had hardly disappeared, when the smugglers saw several boys steal cautiously around the corner of the boat-house, where they had been concealed, and one of them crept up the bank, to assure himself that the coast was clear, while the others remained in the shadow of the house. The former, who proved to be Charles Sheldon, the commander of the coast-guards, as soon as he had satisfied himself that the smugglers had gone into the house, called out, in a low whisper, to the others, who were the captains of the divisions of the squadron,

"All right, boys; go ahead, but be careful not to make any noise. I didn't see Frank Nelson's dog go into the yard," he continued; "he must be around here somewhere. We must not let him hear us."

Brave was, as Charles had said, "around there somewhere." He was lying by his master's side, among the willows, no doubt wondering at the strange things that were going on, and, well-trained as he was, it was with great difficulty that Frank could keep him quiet.

The coast-guards crossed the wharf with noiseless steps, and, unfastening the skiff which the smugglers had just used, they climbed down into it, and pushed off toward the Alert. A few strokes brought them alongside of her, and, thrusting their arms under the sail, they began the examination which the smugglers had so much dreaded.

"What do you find?" inquired Charles, who still kept watch at the top of the bank.

"Here are a lot of baskets and pails," said one

"And here's the large basket that George and Harry brought," said another.

"What are these round things in this bag, I wonder?" said the one who had first spoken.

"Oh, those are the lemons I brought," said Charles.

"Gracious! how hard they are!" continued the boy, trying to dig his fingers into them.

At this, Frank and William, who, of course, had heard every word of the conversation, and had sat fairly trembling with excitement, fearful that their trick would be discovered, could scarcely refrain from laughing outright. Had it been daylight, the ruse of the smugglers would certainly have been detected, but, as it was, the coast-guards never mistrusted that any thing was wrong. The night was rather dark, and the sham provisions were so neatly tied up, and so carefully stowed away, that the deception was complete.

"I guess they are all here," said one of the boys, at length.

"Well, come ashore, then," said Charles, "and let's be off."

The boys pulled back to the wharf, and Charles continued,

"I didn't think that the Alert would hold all of the refreshments, did you?"

"No," answered one of the boys, whom the smugglers recognized as James Porter; "I guess it was a tight squeeze; I could hardly get my hand in between the baskets."

"What do you suppose the smugglers intend to do?" inquired another.

"I don't know," answered Charles, "unless they propose to get up in the morning before we do, and slip over to the island before we know it. I wonder how they felt when they saw us taking our positions."

"But what do you suppose made them put the provisions in the Alert?"

"Oh, I think I can see through that easily enough," said James. "Frank knows that we expected that he was going to carry them over to the island, and he calculates to get us to chase him and give the Alert a chance to land the provisions. He is a cunning fellow, but this time we are too sharp for him."

"I wonder why Frank don't send some one out to act as a spy," said Charles.

"I guess he's afraid that he would be taken prisoner."

We may as well state here (and we should have done so before) that it had been agreed that if one side could catch any of the other acting as spies, they were at liberty to hold them as prisoners until the race was over, and that the prisoner should, if required, give his captors all the information possible relative to the movements and plans of his party, and they could also require him to lend assistance in carrying out their own. The prisoner, of course, was allowed the privilege of escaping, if he could.

This was the reason why the smugglers had not sent out any spies; and, if the coast-guards had been aware that Frank and William were hidden away in the willows, they could easily have captured them, and, according to the agreement, obliged them to divulge all their plans.

"Well," said Charles, "we don't want any prisoners now, for we know all their plans; but I wanted to catch Frank this morning, for I was afraid he would beat us. If he should find out that this trick was discovered, he would plan another in five minutes. I guess we had better remain where we are to-night," he continued, "and, at half-past two o'clock, we will pull out into the river, and blockade the creek. All we have to do is to take care of the Alert, and let the other boats do as they please. But we had better be off, or the smugglers may slip out and make some of us prisoners."

And the spies departed as cautiously and quickly as they had come.

As soon as they had gone, the smugglers arose from their places of concealment, and stole into the house, and acquainted the other boys with the success of their stratagem.

After enjoying a hearty laugh at the expense of the coast-guards, led by George and Harry, they ran up stairs into the "large chamber," a room containing three beds, and they were soon snug between the sheets. But sleep was, for a long time, out of the question; they laughed and talked until their jaws ached, and the hands of the old clock that stood in the room pointed to twelve; then they allowed their tired tongues to rest, and lay for a long time, each occupied with his own thoughts, and, finally, one after the other fell asleep.

The hours passed on, and nothing was heard but their gentle breathing. Suddenly Harry, who always talked in his sleep when any thing exciting was going on, turned over in bed with a jerk, and began to mutter some unintelligible words. All at once, raising himself to a sitting posture, he sang out, at the top of his voice,

"Starboard your helm there, George—starboard your helm; bring her around quick. The Alert can show as clean a pair of heels as any boat about the village."

In an instant the other boys were awake, and Harry continued to shout his directions, until several hearty thumps on the back caused him to change his tune.

"Let me alone!" he shouted. "We haven't cheated you. We promised to carry the provisions all over in one boat, and we've done it."

Harry was quickly dragged out of bed and placed upon his feet, and he was wide awake in an instant, but he stood in the middle of the room, as if bewildered, while the others rolled on the beds, convulsed with laughter.

At length, William Johnson, who was the first that could speak, inquired,

"I wonder what time it is."

"Wait until I light this candle, and we'll see," said George.

"No, no, don't do that," said Frank. "The coast-guards may be on the watch, and, if they see a light in the house, will be getting ready for us."

And, going to the clock, he opened it, and, feeling of the hands, said,

"It's about ten minutes to three."

"What shall we do?" inquired Ben.

"Let us go and see what our friends of the squadron are doing," said Thomas; "and, if they are not on hand, we can slip over and land our goods."

By this time every one was dressed, and they crept carefully down stairs and out of the house.

"Hold on a minute, boys," said Frank. "I will bet there are spies around that boat-house now."

"Let's take them prisoners," exclaimed Harry.

"That's just what I was about to propose," said Frank; "but, in order to do it, we had better divide into two parties, so as to surround the house."

"Well," said George, "three of us will go up the road, and cross over by the bridge, and the rest of you can go down the road, and get into the willows behind the mill."

"That's a good idea," said Frank. "We will meet at the back of the boat-house."

The boys accordingly separated, and started in different directions.

Frank and his party, which consisted of Harry and Ben, threaded their way through the garden, and across a meadow, until they arrived opposite Mr. Butler's mill. Here they crossed the road, and, after a careful reconnoissance, entered the willows, and crawled, almost on their hands and knees, toward the boat-house. At length they arrived at the place where they were to meet their companions, but nothing was to be seen or heard of them.

"I hope they have not been taken prisoners," whispered Frank.

"I don't think they have," said Ben, "because we should have heard something of it. They are not the ones to give up without a struggle. But I don't see any thing of the spies."

"Neither do I," said Harry. "They must be around the other side of the boat-house."

"If they are there," said Frank, "we will soon make them show themselves."

And, as he spoke, he seized a branch above his head, and shook it violently.

"Oh, that's no way," whispered Harry, excitedly; "you will frighten the—"

"—sh! there they are!" said Frank.

And, as he spoke, the smugglers saw a boy come cautiously around the corner of the boat-house. He gazed impatiently toward the willows, and uttered a low whistle.

Frank instantly answered it, and the boy came down the bank, and said, in a low voice,

"Come out here, Jim. I thought you would never relieve us. No signs of the smugglers yet—"

"You must be mistaken," said Frank, springing lightly from his concealment; and, before the coast-guard could recover from his surprise, he found himself a prisoner.

"Don't make any noise," said Frank. "Where's your companion? There must be two of you."

"Yes, there is another one," answered the prisoner. "Ned Wilbur is around the other side of the boat-house."

"Well, Ben," said Frank, "if you will watch this fellow, Harry and I will see what we can do for Ned."

So saying, he went carefully around one side of the boat-house, and Harry disappeared around the other. Frank reached the end of the house first, and discovered the coast-guard standing in the door-way, as motionless as a statue. He was waiting for Harry to make his appearance at the opposite end, when the sentinel suddenly uttered an ejaculation of surprise, and bounded up the bank; but, just as he reached the top, a dark form, which seemed to rise out of the ground, clasped the fleeting coast-guard in its arms, and a voice, which Frank recognized as William Johnson's, said, in a low whisper,

"You're my prisoner!"

"It's just my luck," said the crest-fallen sentinel, bitterly, as William led him down the bank. "I told Charley Sheldon that we would be sure to be gobbled up if we were stationed here. Now, I suppose, you want me to tell all our plans."

"No, we don't," answered Harry; "we know all your plans already."

By this time the smugglers had all come in, and, holding fast to their captives, they held a consultation, in which it was decided that it would be best to reconnoiter before attempting to leave the creek. It was very dark, and not a sound broke the stillness of the night; but the smugglers were too cunning to believe that the coast was clear, for they knew that the enemy would resort to every possible means to effect their capture.

Three of the smugglers were directed to get into Mr. Butler's yawl, taking one of the prisoners with them, and drop down to the mouth of Glen's Creek, and note the position of the enemy there; and Frank and the other boys stepped into the skiff, and started up toward Ducks' Creek, to ascertain the condition of affairs, taking Ned with them. They pulled rapidly, but noiselessly, along, and had almost reached the creek, when a strong, cheery voice, directly before them, called out,

"Boat ahoy!"

"There," whispered Harry, "we're discovered."

"No, I guess not," said Frank. "Ned," he continued, turning to the prisoner, "you must talk for us. Answer them."

"Ay, ay, sir," shouted Ned, in reply to the hail.

"What boat is that?"

"Dispatch boat," answered Ned, prompted by Frank; "and we bring orders for you to pull down and join the fleet, which is now blockading the mouth of Glen's Creek."

"All right," answered the voice. "We've been waiting an hour for that order. This playing police is dull business."

And the smugglers heard the rattling of a chain, as if the anchor was being pulled up.

"Tell them to make haste," whispered Frank.

"Come, hurry up there, now," shouted Ned.

"Ay, ay," was the answer.

And, in a few moments, the Sampson, propelled by four oars, shot past them, on her way down the creek.

"That's what I call pretty well done," said Ben, as soon as the coast-guards were out of hearing.

"I don't," said Ned. "It goes against me to fool a fellow in that way; and my own friends, too."

The smugglers now continued on their way, and a few strong pulls brought them within a short distance of the mouth of Ducks' Creek; and Frank, who was at the helm, turned the boat's head toward the shore, and, as soon as her keel touched the bottom, he and Ben sprang out, leaving Harry to watch the prisoner.

They had landed upon Reynard's Island, and immediately started for the opposite side, to learn, if possible, what was going on upon the river. Every thing was as silent as midnight; and the smugglers were obliged to move very carefully, for the slightest sound—the snapping of a twig or the rustling of a leaf—could be heard at a long distance. After proceeding a quarter of a mile in this cautious manner, they reached the opposite side of the island.

"Well," said Ben, after trying in vain to peer through the darkness, "how do matters stand? I wonder if we could not have slipped by their police, and reached the island, before they knew it?"

"No, sir," said Frank, "not by a good deal. We should certainly have been captured."

"How do you know? I can't see any thing."

"Neither can I; but listen, and you will hear something. They are taking their positions."

The boys remained silent, and the suppressed murmur of voices, the strokes of muffled oars, and, now and then, a gentle splashing in the water, as of an anchor dropped carefully overboard, could be distinctly heard.

"I am still of the opinion," said Ben, "that we could run the blockade before they could catch us."

"And I still think that we should get caught," said Frank. "If we should attempt to hoist a sail, it could be heard across the river; besides, there is no breeze."

"Then, try the oars."

"They would overtake us before we had gone twenty rods. You must remember that they outnumber us, six to one, and could easily tire us out, or cut us off from the island. Wait until the breeze springs up, and then we will see what we can do."

"Listen," whispered Ben, suddenly; "some of the boats are coming down this way. They are sending a division of the fleet to guard Ducks' Creek."

And so it proved. The slow, measured strokes of oars came nearer and nearer, and, finally, the tall, raking masts of three of the swiftest-sailing boats in the squadron could be dimly seen moving down the river toward the creek. As they approached, the smugglers discovered that two boys, in a light skiff, led the way, and one of them, who proved to be Charles Sheldon, pointed out the position he wished each boat to occupy. The places assigned them were not directly opposite the mouth of the creek, but a little up the river, and about twenty feet from the shore; and this, afterward, proved to be a very favorable circumstance for the smugglers.

"Now, boys," said Charles, after he had placed the little vessels to his satisfaction, "keep a good look-out up the river."

"I should think," said the captain of the division "that you ought to have us anchor directly in the mouth of the creek. We shall have a good stiff breeze before long, and the Alert might slip out at any time, and, before we could hoist a sail, she would be half-way across the river."

"I don't think she will trouble you down here," said Charles. "Frank Nelson wouldn't be foolish enough to send her out here, for it's a good quarter of a mile below the foot of the island; and, even if she does come out here, and succeeds in getting by you, all we will have to do will be to send a division down to the foot of the island to meet her there, and then her capture is certain. Now, remember, keep an eye open to everything that goes on up the river. Never mind the Speedwell and Champion—let them go where they please; but, if you see the Alert, why, you know what to do."

And Charles and his attendant pulled back up the river.

"Now, Ben," said Frank, "we've heard enough to know that we have fooled them nicely; so let's go back."

This, however, was no easy undertaking. The way to their boat lay through bushes that could scarcely be penetrated, even in the day-time. The coast-guards were anchored close by the shore, and the slightest noise would arouse their suspicions.

Frank led the way on his hands and knees, carefully choosing his ground, and they, at length, succeeded in reaching their boat, without disturbing the coast-guards.

A few moments' pulling brought them alongside Mr. Butler's wharf, where they found the others waiting for them.

"What news?" inquired George, as they clambered up out of the boat.

Frank explained, in a few words, the position of the squadron at the mouth of Ducks' Creek, as well as the conversation they had overheard, and also inquired of George the result of his observations.

"It was too dark to see much," he answered; "but we could plainly hear them taking their positions opposite the mouth of the creek. It will be hard work to get through them, I tell you."

"How are you going to work it, Frank?" inquired Ben.

"I'll tell you what I thought of doing," he answered "By the way Charley Sheldon spoke, I should judge that he expects to see the Alert start from Glen's Creek; so, I think, it would be a good plan, as soon as the breeze springs up, to have the Champion and Alert drop down Ducks' Creek, and let the former run out and start for the island. The coast-guards will not give chase, of course, but will think it is only a ruse of ours to make them believe that the Alert is going to start from the same place, and that will make them watch Glen's Creek closer than ever, and the Alert will have a chance to get a good start before they can hoist their sails, and, while they are after her, Ben and I will run out and land our goods."

"That's the way to do it," said William, approvingly. "We will fool them so completely that they will not want to hear of smugglers again for six months."

"Let's go and get some breakfast," said George. "Never go to work on an empty stomach, you know."

"Yes, come on," said Harry, taking each of the captive coast-guards by the arm; "we never feed our prisoners on half rations."

After "stowing away" a large supply of bread and milk, the smugglers, in company with their prisoners, again repaired to the boat-house. By this time it was five o'clock, and the breeze which the coast-guards had predicted began to spring up, and promised to freshen into a capital "sailing wind."

In a few moments the real provisions were all packed away, as closely as possible, in the Speedwell, and the load was as large as she could well carry, there being scarcely room enough left for the action of the sails.

"I guess we are all ready now," said Frank; "so, Bill, you might as well drop down Ducks' Creek and sail out."

"All right," answered William.

And he and Thomas clambered down into the boat, with the prisoners, the sails were hoisted, and the Champion was soon hidden from sight by the tall reeds and bushes that lined the banks of the creek.

"Now, Harry," continued Frank, "Ben and I will take our boat and hide behind the point, and, in about five minutes, you may follow the Champion."

"Now, make use of your best seamanship," said Ben. "You can lead them a long chase, if you try."

"I assure you that we will do our best," said George.

The Speedwell's sails were hoisted, and Frank took his seat at the helm, while Ben placed himself so as to assist in managing the sails. Brave took his usual station in the bow, and they moved slowly down the creek.

The point of which Frank had spoken was a long, low neck of land, covered with trees, which completely concealed the mouth of Glen's Creek. In a few moments they reached this point, and the Speedwell's bow ran high upon the sand, and the boys sprang out, and hurried over to the other side of the point, to watch the proceedings on the river, while Brave, at his master's command, remained in the boat. Concealing themselves behind a large log, they waited impatiently for the appearance of the Champion.

The vessels of the squadron, with the exception of the division stationed at the foot of Reynard's Island, were anchored in a semicircle directly before the mouth of Glen's Creek, from which it was expected that the Alert would start. Each sloop was manned by two boys, and the schooners had a crew of four. Every one stood at his post, and was ready to move at the word.

"They meant to be ready for us, didn't they?" asked Frank. "I wonder if they thought we would be foolish enough to send the Alert out of this creek, in the face of all those boats?"

"I don't know," answered Ben. "I suppose they thought—See there! there goes the Champion."

Frank looked down the river, and saw that the stanch little sloop had already run the blockade, and was standing boldly toward the island. Her appearance was sudden and wholly unexpected and several of the coast-guards sprang to their feet, and a dozen sails were half-way up the mast in a twinkling; but, as soon as they discovered that it was not the Alert, they quickly returned to their posts, and, in a moment, all the bustle and confusion was over.

The eye of every boy in the squadron was now directed toward Glen's Creek, expecting, every moment, to see the schooner round the point.

The Champion had accomplished, perhaps, half the distance across the river, when the Alert suddenly shot from Ducks' Creek, and, hauling around before the wind, ran in between two of the blockading fleet, so close as to almost graze them, and stood toward the foot of the island.

As soon as the coast-guards could recover from their surprise, Charles shouted,

"Up anchor—quick!"

The next moment he called out,

"Jim, take your division, and creep down the shore of the island, and be ready to catch her there, if she gets away from us."

For a few moments there was a "great hurrying" among the coast-guards. The anchors were drawn up with a jerk, the sails flew up the masts, and the little fleet bore rapidly down upon the smuggler.

As soon as Frank saw that the race had fairly begun, he exclaimed,

"Now's our time, Ben!"

They ran back to their boat, and hastily shoved from the shore, and the Speedwell, making good her name, was soon plowing the river, in the direction of the island.

So intent were the coast-guards upon catching the Alert, that they thought of nothing else; and Frank rounded the head of the island, and landed, without being discovered.

Meanwhile, George and Harry were leading their pursuers a long chase. Under their skillful management—standing first on one tack and then on the other—they had succeeded in outmaneuvering several of the swiftest-sailing vessels in the squadron.

Two or three small sloops had succeeded in getting between the Alert and the island; but Harry, who was at the helm, did not deem them worthy a moment's notice. He was confident that his schooner, by her superior sailing qualities, would soon leave these behind also.

The smugglers began to grow jubilant over their success, and George called out,

"Where are your men-o'-war now? Throw us a line, and we'll tow you."

"Come on, you coast-guards," chimed in Harry. "You will never catch us, at this rate."

If the smugglers had succeeded in eluding their pursuers, it would, indeed, have been an achievement worth boasting of; but they had to deal with those who were as cunning and skillful as themselves. Charles was not to be beaten so easily; and, although he said nothing, the smugglers saw him smile and shake his head, as if he were certain that he could yet win the day.

"Can you discover any fast boats ahead of us, George?" inquired Harry.

George rose to his feet to take a survey of the squadron, and answered,

"No, there are only two or three little things standing across our bows, but we'll soon—We're caught, sure as shooting!" he suddenly exclaimed, changing his tone. "Bring her around before the wind—quick! There's the North Star, Sunshine, and Sampson. We might as well haul down the sails."

James Porter's division, which had been "laying to" at the foot of Glen's Island, now bore down upon the Alert, and George had just discovered them; and they were coming on in such a manner that escape was impossible.

"Yes," answered Harry, as soon as he had noted the positions of the approaching vessels, "we are caught. We began to brag too soon."

"Well, we don't lose any thing," said George. "Frank has landed the provisions long before this."

"I know it; but still I wish we could have beaten them."

"What do you think now, Harry?" asked Charles, whose boat was following close in the wake of the Alert.

"I think we are done for."

And, as Harry "luffed in the wind," George drew down the sails, and gave up the struggle.

In a moment the little fleet closed about the smuggler, and, to prevent accident, the sails were all hauled down, and the boats lay motionless on the water.

"I tell you," said Charles, "you fellows worked it pretty well."

"Yes," answered George, as if a little crest-fallen at their defeat. "We did the best we could."

"I thought we had more provisions than this," said one of the captains of the squadron, pulling his boat alongside of the Alert. "I didn't think you could get them all in here."

And he pulled up the covering, and looked under it.

"They are packed in tight, you see," said Harry, who wished to keep up the "sell," as he called it, as long as possible.

"What are in these bags?" inquired one.

"Shavings," answered George. "We thought we might want to kindle a fire for something."

"I say, George," said James Porter, standing up in his boat to get a good view of the things in the Alert. "I wish you would feel in my basket, and get a cup that is in there, and pass it over this way. I'm thirsty. I was so excited," he continued, taking off his hat and wiping the perspiration from his forehead, "that I sweat as if I had been dumped in the river. There isn't a dry rag on me."

"Which is your basket?" inquired Harry, struggling hard to suppress a laugh.

"It's a brown basket, with a white cover," answered James.

George and Harry were too full of laughter to trust themselves to speak; but Charles exclaimed, as he drew aside the covering,

"There's no brown basket here."

"There ought to be," said one of the coast-guards; "I brought my things in a brown basket."

"So did I," exclaimed another.

"There's a cheat somewhere," said James.

"You haven't done as you agreed," said Charles. "You promised to carry all the things in one boat."

"Yes, that's what you agreed to do," shouted several.

"And we've kept our promise," said Harry.

"Then, where's my basket?" inquired one of the boys, who had failed to discover it among the things in the Alert.

"I'll bet the Champion carried some of the provisions over," said another, "for there are not half of them here."

"No, the Champion didn't have a thing in her," said a third. "She passed so close to my boat, that I could have jumped into her, and I took particular pains to see that she was empty."

"Well, here are the things that I brought, at any rate," said Charles, who had just caught sight of the bag which contained, as he supposed, his lemons. "My goodness!" he continued, as he lifted them out of the boat, "how heavy they are!"

And he began to untie the bag, and soon disclosed to the view of the coast-guards, not the lemons, but almost half a peck of smooth, round stones.

George and Harry, who could contain themselves no longer, rolled on the bottom of the boat, convulsed with laughter; and several ready hands tore off the coverings of the baskets and pails, and they were found to be empty.

A more astonished set of boys one never saw; and, as soon as they could speak, they burst out with a volley of ejaculations that will hardly bear repetition.

"We've been chasing the wrong boat," said one.

"Yes," answered another, "and I knew it would be so. That Frank Nelson is too much of a Yankee for us."

"The Speedwell—the Speedwell!" shouted another; "keep a good look-out for her."

"Oh, you're too late," said Harry, with a laugh, "the provisions were landed long ago."

"I don't believe it. I didn't see any thing of her."

"Of course you didn't," said Charles; "you were too intent on catching the Alert. Boys," he continued, "we're fairly beaten. Let's start for the island."

The coast-guards silently obeyed, and the smugglers refrained from making any remarks, for they saw that the squadron's crew took their defeat sorely to heart.

In a few moments the little fleet rounded the foot of the island, and the boys discovered the Champion and Speedwell, lying with their bows high upon the sand, and their crews were busy carrying the provisions under the shade of a large oak, that stood near the water's edge.

As soon as the last vessel came in sight, the smugglers on shore greeted them with three hearty cheers, which George and Harry answered with a will, but the coast-guards remained silent.

In a few moments they had all landed, and the smugglers joined their companions; and Charles took off his hat, and said to the coast-guards,

"Boys, I want to have just one word with you. We have been beaten," he continued, as they gathered silently about him, "completely outwitted; but it was fairly done. We took all the advantage of the smugglers that we could, but they have beaten us at our own game. I feel as cheap as any of you do, but it can't be helped now; and there's no use of having unpleasant feelings about it, for that would spoil a good day's sport. If we didn't catch them, we did our best, and we had a good, exciting race—one that I wouldn't have missed for a good deal. Now, boys, show that you appreciate the good trick that has been played on us, by giving the smugglers three hearty cheers."

This little speech—showing Charles to be a boy of good feeling—had the effect of convincing the coast-guards that to manifest any ill-will at their defeat would be both unkind and selfish, and the cheer that rose from forty strong lungs was almost deafening. The smugglers, who had heard what Charles had said, cheered lustily, in turn, for the coast-guards, and instantly every unkind feeling vanished. The coast-guards readily entered into conversation with the smugglers, and the latter explained the trick of which they had made use, as well as the manner in which the capture of the prisoners was affected, and the adventure with the police-boat; and, although the coast-guards were provoked at themselves for "not having more sense," as they termed it, they could not refrain from joining in a hearty laugh.

By this time the refreshments had all been carried under the tree of which we have spoken, where there was a smooth grass-plat, which made a nice place to set the table.

The boys had spent some time relating various incidents that had occurred during the chase, when Ben suddenly inquired,

"Well, boys, what's to be the order of the day? You know that we came over here to enjoy ourselves, and we had better be about it."

"I think," said Charles, "that it would be a good plan to appoint a committee to arrange those eatables. We came away without our breakfast, and I, for one, feel hungry."

"There's where we had the advantage of you," said Thomas. "While you were hurrying around, and taking your positions, we were eating our breakfast. You see, we took matters easy."

"And beat us, after all," said one of the coast-guards; "it's too bad. But let's have that committee appointed."

A dozen boys were speedily chosen to set the table, and the others, catching up all the empty pails and baskets they could find, scattered over the island in search of strawberries.

In about an hour they met again under the tree, and found the refreshments all ready for them, and they fell to work in earnest. So full were they of their sport, that it took them two hours to eat their dinner, as they had said they had come to enjoy themselves, and felt in duty bound to eat all their baskets contained.

After dinner, one of the smugglers proposed to go squirrel-hunting; but many of the coast-guards had passed the preceding night without any sleep, and, to use their own expression, they "didn't feel like it;" so this project was abandoned, and the boys lay on the grass, under the tree, telling stories, until almost three o'clock, and then began to get ready to start for home.



CHAPTER X.

A Queer Cousin.

As every one knows, it would be almost an impossibility for sixteen sail-boats to go any where in company without trying their speed, especially if they were sailed by boys. When our heroes stepped into their vessels, each skipper made up his mind that his boat must be the first one to touch the opposite shore. Not a word was said about a race, but every one knew that one would be sure to come off. Every thing was done in a hurry, and the little vessels were all afloat in a moment. They were on the leeward side of the island—that is, the side from the wind—and they would be obliged to get around to the opposite side before they could use their sails.

The coast-guards shoved their boats out into the current, and allowed themselves to float down toward the foot of the island, thinking that course easier than pulling, against the current, up to the head of the island.

Frank noticed this movement, and said, in a low voice, to the smugglers,

"Don't follow them, boys. They will find themselves becalmed in less than a quarter of an hour. The breeze is dying away. If you want to beat them, hoist your sails, and get out your oars, and row up to the head of the island; we can reach it before they reach the foot, and, besides, the current will carry them further down the river than they want to go."

The smugglers did as Frank had directed; and as they moved from the shore, and turned up the river, one of the coast-guards called out,

"Where are you fellows going?"

"Home," answered Ben.

"You are taking the longest and hardest way."

"The longest way around is the nearest way home, you know," answered William.

"I don't believe it is, in this instance," said James Porter. "Let's see who will be at the long dock first."

"All right," answered the smugglers.

And they disappeared behind a high-wooded promontory of the island.

It was hard work, pulling against a current that ran four miles an hour, but they were accustomed to it, and the thought of again beating the coast-guards gave strength to their arms.

In a few moments a sudden filling of the sails announced that they had caught the breeze. The oars were drawn in, and every sheet hauled taut, and, when they rounded the head of the island, not one of the squadron was in sight.

"I expected," said Harry, speaking in a loud voice, so that the others could hear, "that they would feel the wind long before this."

"Even if they had," answered Frank, "we could have beaten them easily enough. You see, when they come around the foot of the island, they will be some distance below the long dock, and the current will carry them still further down, while we are above it, and can sail right down to it. Here they come!"

The boys looked down the river, and saw the men-o'-war rapidly following each other around the foot of the island.

"I guess they have discovered their mistake before this time," said William. "Now," he continued, as he drew his mainsail down a little closer "the Champion is going to be the first to sail into the creek."

"That's the game, is it?" said Frank. "Ben, perch yourself up on the windward side, and we'll see which is the best boat."

Ben did as he was desired, and the little vessels increased their speed, and bounded over the gentle swells as if some of their crews' spirit had been infused into them. They had started nearly even—the Alert and Champion being a little in advance of the Speedwell—and the boys knew that the race was to be a fair trial of the speed of their boats. The Alert and Speedwell had never been "matched" before, and the boys were anxious to learn their comparative speed. The former was the "champion" boat of the village, and Harry and George were confident that Frank's "tub," as they jokingly called it, would soon be distanced. Frank thought so, too; but the reputation of owning the swiftest boat in the village was well worth trying for, and he determined to do his best.

Since his race with the Champion, he had made larger sails for his boat, and added a flying-jib and a gaff-topsail, and he found that her speed was almost doubled.

The Champion soon fell behind, and the two rival boats were left to finish the race, which, for a long time, seemed undecided. But, at length, the Speedwell, with her strong mast groaning and creaking under the weight of the heavy canvas, began to gain steadily, and soon passed the Alert. Ten minutes' run brought them across the river; and when Frank, proud of the victory he had gained, rounded the long dock, the Alert was full four rods behind.

The breeze was rapidly dying away, and not one of the coast-guards had yet reached the shore. Some of them had been carried almost a mile below the creek, and lay with the sails idly flapping against the masts.

Frank and Ben sailed slowly along up the creek, and, when they arrived at the end of the dock, the Speedwell was "made fast," and the boys started to get their mail.

As they entered the post-office, Frank stepped up to the "pigeon-hole," and the postmaster handed him two letters; one was addressed to his mother, and the other bore his own name, written in a full, round, school-boy's hand.

"Ben," he exclaimed, as he broke the seal, "I've got a letter from Archie. I wrote to him a month ago; I should think it was about time to get an answer."

"See if he says any thing about getting a letter from me," said Ben. "I haven't heard from him in a long time."

Before proceeding further, it may not be improper to say a word about Archie Winters. He was, as we have already said, Frank's cousin, and lived in the city of Portland. He was just Frank's age, and, like him, was kind and generous; but he was not the boy for books. When in school, he was an obedient and industrious pupil, and learned very readily; but, when four o'clock came, he was the first to lay aside his books. He was very fond of rural sports, and, for a city boy, was a very expert hunter; he even considered himself able to compete with Frank. He was also passionately fond of pets, and, if he could have had his own way, he would have possessed every cat and dog in the city. His father was a wealthy ship-builder, and Archie was an only child. But he was not, as is generally the case, spoiled by indulgence; on the contrary, his parents always required his prompt and cheerful obedience, and, when out of their sight, Archie was very careful to do nothing of which he thought his parents would not approve. Every vacation he paid a visit to his cousin, and sometimes staid until late in the winter, to engage in his favorite sport. He was well known to the village boys, among whom his easy and obliging manners had won many a steadfast friend.

But let us now return to the letter, which ran as follows:

PORTLAND, June 28, 18—.

DEAR COUSIN: Your letter of the 16th of last month was duly received, and, I suppose, you think it is about time for me to answer it. They say that a person who is good at making excuses is good for nothing else; but, I suppose, you will expect some apology for my seeming neglect. You perhaps remember hearing your mother speak of James Sherman, a cousin whom we had never seen. About two weeks since, father received a letter from his mother, stating that she and James would be at our house in about three days. Well, they came agreeably to notice, and I have had the pleasure of entertaining our cousin ever since. I have had to pilot him around, and show him all the sights, and I have had time for nothing else.

I will not tell you what sort of a fellow he is; I will leave you to judge of his general character, etc. He and his mother are now on their way to Lawrence, and they expect to be at your house about the 6th (July). They intend to remain about two weeks. When I saw them getting into the train, and knew that in a few days they would be with you, I wanted very much to accompany them. But mother says one noisy boy in the house is sufficient. (I wonder whether she means you or James!) But as soon as they have ended their visit, if nothing happens, you may expect to see our family landing from the Julia Burton, some fine morning. I have been pent up in the city now almost six months, and I am impatient to get into the country again—especially among the trout-streams about your quiet little village.

I have often thought of the sport we had the day we went up to Dungeon Brook. I know it rained hard, but the string of trout we caught beat any thing of the kind I ever happened to see.

But I've got some good news for you. Father has decided to spend part of the winter at Uncle Joe's, and he promises to take you and me with him; so you can begin to pack up your duds as soon as you wish.

That trout-pole you made for me last winter met with a serious accident a few days since. One of my schoolmates invited me to go up the river with him, and try a perch-bed he had accidentally discovered. I had sent off my heavy pole to the painters, so I was obliged to take my trout-pole. I was afraid that I should break it, but it behaved beautifully for about two hours, during which time I drew in sixty fine perch and rock-bass—some of the former weighing between one and two pounds—and I began to think that the pole was too tough to break. But I was very soon convinced of my mistake, for, as bad luck would have it, I hooked on to a black-bass. I thought I handled him very carefully, but, before we could land him, he broke my pole in three pieces; but the line held, and he was soon floundering in the boat. He was a fine fellow—a regular "sockdologer"—weighing six pounds and a half. But I heartily wished him safe in the bottom of the river. I have laid the pole away, and intend to bring it to you for repairs.

But it is ten o'clock, and father suggests that, if I wish to get to the post-office before the mail closes, I had "better make tracks." So I must stop. Love to all.

Yours affectionately, A. Winters.

P.S.—Please tell Ben and Harry that I will answer their letters immediately. A.W.

By this time the rest of the smugglers had arrived, and, as soon as Frank had run his eye over the letter, and began to fold it up, George inquired,

"Well, what does he say? Did he receive Harry's letter?"

"Yes, and also one from Ben. He says he will answer them at once."

After a few moments' conversation, the boys separated, and started for home, expressing themselves highly delighted at Frank's way of spending the Fourth.

The day on which Mrs. Sherman and her son were expected at length arrived. As a fine breeze was blowing, Frank and his sister—accompanied, of course, by Brave—stepped into the Speedwell, and started to enjoy a sail on the river.

It was now the summer vacation, and the boys were determined to have plenty of recreation after their long siege of study; and, when Frank reached the mouth of the creek, he found the river dotted with white sails as far as he could see. Several of the boats had started on fishing excursions, but the majority of them were sailing idly about, as if nothing particular had been determined on.

Frank turned the Speedwell's head down the river, and soon joined the little fleet. He had hoisted every stitch of canvas his boat could carry, and she flew along, passing several of the swiftest vessels, and finally encountered the Alert. The race was short, for the Speedwell easily passed her, and George and Harry were compelled to acknowledge that, to use their own expression, "the Alert was nowhere."

In about two hours the Julia Burton was seen rounding the point, and a loud, clear whistle warned the villagers of her approach. Frank turned the Speedwell toward home, and arrived at the wharf about ten minutes after the steamer had landed.

As they sailed along up the creek, Julia suddenly exclaimed,

"I wonder who those people are!"

Frank turned, and saw a lady just getting into a carriage, and a boy, apparently about his own age, stood by, giving orders, in a loud voice, to the driver, about their baggage. Both were dressed in the hight of fashion, and Frank knew, from the description his aunt had given his mother, that they were the expected visitors.

As soon as the boy had satisfied himself that their baggage was safe, he continued, in a voice loud enough to be heard by Frank and his sister,

"Now, driver, you're sure you know where Mrs. Nelson lives?"

"Yes, sir," answered the man, respectfully.

"Well, then, old beeswax, hurry up. Show us how fast your cobs can travel."

So saying, he sprang into the carriage, and the driver closed the door after him, mounted to his seat, and drove off.

"Why," said Julia, in surprise, "I guess that's Aunt Harriet—don't you?"

"Yes," answered her brother, "I know it is."

"I am afraid I shall not like James," continued Julia; "he talks too loud."

Frank did not answer, for he was of the same opinion. He had inferred from Archie's letter that James would prove any thing but an agreeable companion.

The brisk wind that was blowing carried them rapidly along, and, in a few moments, they came to a place where the road ran along close to the creek. The distance to Mrs. Nelson's, by the road, was greater, by a quarter of a mile, than by the creek, and, consequently, they had gained considerably on the carriage. Soon they heard the rattling of wheels behind them, and the hack came suddenly around a turn in the road.

James was leaning half-way out of the window, his cap pushed on one side of his head, and, not knowing Frank, he accosted him, as he came up, with his favorite expression.

"Hallo, old beeswax! Saw-logs must have been cheap when you had that boat built. You've got timber enough there to finish off a good-sized barn."

Frank, of course, made no reply; and, in a moment more, the hack was out of sight.

They soon reached the wharf, in front of the house, and Frank helped Julia out, and, after making his boat fast, started toward the house, and entered the room where their visitors were seated.

His aunt's greeting was cold and distant, and she acted as if her every motion had been thoroughly studied. James's acknowledgment was scarcely more than agreeable. To Frank's inquiry, "How do you do, sir?" he replied,

"Oh, I'm bully, thank you, old beeswax. Not you the cod I twigged[A] navigating that scow up the creek?"

[Footnote A: Saw.]

Frank acknowledged himself to be the person, and James continued,

"I suppose she's the champion yacht, isn't she?"

"Yes," answered Frank, "she is. There's no boat about the village that can beat her."

"Ah, possibly; but, after all, you had better tell that to the marines. I've seen too much of the world to have a country chap stuff me, now I tell you, old beeswax."

We will not particularize upon James's visit. It will suffice to relate one or two incidents that will illustrate his character.

A day or two after his arrival, he discovered the schooner standing on Frank's bureau, and he could not be contented until he should see "how she carried herself in the water," and Frank, reluctantly, carried it down to the creek and set it afloat.

For a few moments James seemed to have forgotten his evil propensities, and they amused themselves by sailing the schooner from one side of the creek to the other. But he very soon grew tired of this "lame, unexciting sport," as he called it, and, gathering up an armful of stones, he began to throw them into the water near the boat, shouting,

"Storm on the Atlantic! See her rock!"

"Please don't, James," urged Frank; "I'm afraid you will hit the schooner."

"No fear of that," answered James, confidently, still continuing to throw the stones; "I can come within a hair's-breadth of her, and not touch her. Now, see."

And, before Frank could speak, away flew a large stone, with great force, and, crashing through the mainsail of the little vessel, broke both masts and the bowsprit short off.

"There," exclaimed Frank, "I was afraid you would do that."

James did not appear to be in the least sorry for it, but he skipped up the bank, shouting, in an insulting tone,

"There's your boat, old beeswax. When do you expect her in port?"

Frank did not answer, but drew what remained of the schooner to the shore, and, taking it under his arm, started for his shop, saying,

"Now, that's a nice cousin for a fellow to have. I'll do my best to treat him respectfully while he stays, but I shall not be sorry when the time comes to bid him good-by."

And that time was not far distant. James often complained to his mother that Frank was a "low-minded, mean fellow," and urged an immediate departure. His mother always yielded to his requests, or rather demands, no matter how unreasonable they might be; and they had scarcely made a visit of a week, when they announced their intention of leaving Lawrence by the "next boat."

On the day previous to their departure, Mrs. Nelson had occasion to send Frank to the village for some groceries, and, as a favorable wind was blowing, he decided to go in his boat. But, before starting, he managed to slip away from James long enough to write a few lines to Archie, urging him to come immediately.

Frank intended to start off without James's knowledge; but the uneasy fellow was always on the look-out, and, seeing his cousin going rapidly down the walk, with a basket on each arm, and his dog—which, like his master, had not much affection for James—he shouted,

"Hallo, old beeswax, where are you bound for?"

"For the village," answered Frank.

"Are you going to take the tow-path?"

"The tow-path! I don't know what you mean."

"Are you going to ride shanks' horses?"

"I don't understand that, either."

"Oh, you are a bass-wood man, indeed," said James, with a taunting laugh. "Are you going to walk? Do you think you can comprehend me now?"

"Yes," answered Frank, "I can understand you when you talk English. No, I am not going to walk."

"Then I'll go with you, if you will leave that dog at home."

"I don't see what objections you can have to his company. He always goes with me."

"I suppose you think more of him than you do of your relations; but I'm going with you, at any rate."

And he quickened his pace to overtake Frank.

While his cousin was hoisting the sails, James deliberately seated himself in the stern of the boat, and took hold of the tiller.

"Do you understand managing a sail-boat?" inquired Frank, as he stood ready to cast off the painter.

"If any one else had asked me that question," answered James, with an air of injured dignity, "I should have considered it an insult. Of course I do."

"All right, then," said Frank, as he pushed the boat from the wharf. "Go ahead. We shall be obliged to tack a good many times, going down but we can sail back like a book, and—"

"Oh, you teach your grandmother, will you?" interrupted James. "I've sailed more boats than you ever saw."

Frank, at first, did not doubt the truth of this assertion, for James lived in a seaport town, and had had ample opportunity to learn how to manage a yacht; but they had not made twenty feet from the wharf, when he made up his mind that his cousin had never before attempted to act as skipper.

Instead of keeping as close as possible to the wind, as he should have done, he turned the boat's head first one way and then another, and, of course, made no headway at all.

"I never saw such a tub as this," said James, at length; "I can't make her mind her helm."

Just at this moment a strong gust of wind filled the sails, and, as James was not seaman enough to "luff" or "let go the sheet," the Speedwell same very near capsizing. As she righted, the wind again filled the sails, and the boat was driven with great speed toward the shore. Frank had barely time to pull up the center-board before her bows ran high upon the bank, and the sheet was roughly jerked from James's hand, and flapped loudly against the mast.

"There," said Frank, turning to his cousin, who sat, pale with terror, "I guess it's a long time since you attempted to sail a boat; you seem to have forgotten how, I tell you," he continued as he noticed James's trepidation, "if I hadn't pulled up that center-board just as I did, we should have been obliged to swim for it."

"I can't swim," said James, in a weak voice.

"Then you would have been in a fix," said Frank. "Now, let me see if I can have any better luck."

James very willingly seated himself on one of the middle thwarts, and Frank pushed the boat from the shore, and took hold of the tiller, and, under his skillful management, the Speedwell flew through the water like a duck.

James soon got over his fright, and his uneasy nature would not allow him to remain long inactive, and, as he could find nothing else to do, he commenced to rock the boat from one side to the other, and, as she was "heeling" considerably, under the weight of her heavy canvas, the water began to pour in over her side. Although the speed of the boat was greatly diminished, Frank, for some time, made no complaint, hoping that his cousin would soon grow tired of the sport. But James did not seem inclined to cease, and Frank, at length, began to remonstrate.

He reminded James that it would not require much to capsize the boat, and, as the creek was very deep, and as he (James) had said he could not swim, he might be a "gone sucker."

This, at first, had the effect of making James more careful, but he soon commenced again as bad as ever.

Brave was seated in his usual place, and directly behind James. He seemed to dislike the rocking of the boat as much as his master, but he bore it very patiently for awhile, thinking, no doubt, that the best way to deal with James was to "let him severely alone." But the rocking increased, and Brave began to slide from one side of the boat to the other. This was enough to upset his patience; and, encouraged, perhaps, by some sly glances from Frank, he sprang up, and, placing a paw on each shoulder of his tormentor, barked fiercely, close to his ear.

James screamed loudly; and Brave, evidently thinking he had punished him enough, returned to his seat.

"Let me ashore," shouted James; "I shan't stay in here any longer."

Frank gladly complied, and, the moment the Speedwell's bows touched the bank, James sprang out.

"I wouldn't risk my life in that tub again for any money," he shouted; "you may bet on that, old beeswax."

Frank made no reply, but pushed the boat from the shore again as soon as possible.

James now felt safe; and, gathering up a handful of stones, determined to wreak his vengeance on Brave. The sensible Newfoundlander, at first, paid no attention to this cowardly assault; but the stones whizzed by in unpleasant proximity, now and then striking the sail or the side of the boat, and he began to manifest his displeasure, by showing his teeth and growling savagely.

Frank stood it as long as possible, knowing that the best plan was to remain silent; but James continued to follow the boat, and the stones struck all around the object of his vengeance.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," said Frank, at length.

"You do, eh?" said James. "How are you going to hinder it? But perhaps you would rather have me throw at you."

And, picking up a large stone, he hurled it at his cousin with great force. It fell into the creek, close to the boat, and splashed the water all over Frank.

This seemed to enrage Brave more than ever, and he sprang into the water, and swam toward the shore, and no amount of scolding on Frank's part could induce him to return. James, fearing that he was about to be punished in a way he had not thought of, turned and took to his heels.

At this moment a loud shout was heard, and several boys sprang over the fence into the road, and James was speedily overtaken and surrounded. They were a ragged, hard-looking set of fellows, and Frank knew that they were the Hillers; besides, he recognized the foremost of them as Lee Powell. They had their fishing-rods on their shoulders, and each boy carried in his hand a long string of trout.

"Look'e here, you spindle-shanked dandy," said Lee, striding up and laying hold of James's collar with no friendly hand, "does yer know who yer was a heavin' rocks at? Shall we punch him for yer?" he added, turning to Frank.

"No," answered Frank; "let him go; he's my cousin."

Lee accordingly released him, and James said, in a scarcely audible voice,

"I was only in fun."

"Oh, only playin', was yer?" said Lee; "that alters the case 'tirely—don't it, Pete?"

The boy appealed to nodded his assent, and Lee continued,

"We thought yer was in blood arnest. If yer had been, we wouldn't a left a grease-spot of yer—would we, Pete?"

"Mighty cl'ar of us," answered Pete.

As soon as James found himself at liberty, he started toward home at full speed, hardly daring to look behind him. Brave had by this time gained the shore, and was about to start in pursuit, but a few sharp words from Frank restrained him.

"Whar are yer goin'?" inquired Lee, walking carelessly down the bank.

"I'm going to the village," answered Frank.

"Will yer give a feller a ride?"

"Certainly. Jump in."

The Hillers accordingly clambered into the boat, and, in a few moments, they reached the wharf, at the back of the post-office.

Lee and his companions immediately sprang out, and walked off, without saying a word; and Frank, after fastening his boat to the wharf, began to pull down the sails, when he discovered that the Hillers had left two large strings of trout behind them.

Hastily catching them up, he ran around the corner of the post-office, and saw Lee and his followers, some distance up the road.

"Hallo!" he shouted, at the top of his lungs; "Lee Powell!"

But they paid no attention to him.

"I know they heard me," said Frank.

And he shouted again, but with no better success.

At length, one of the village boys, who was coming across the fields, with a basket of strawberries on his arm, shouted to the Hillers, and, when he had gained their attention, pointed toward Frank,

"See here!" Frank shouted, as he held up the fish; "you have forgotten these."

"No, I guess not," shouted Lee, in reply. "We Hillers don't forget favors as easy as all that comes to. Ye're welcome to 'em."

And he and his companions walked rapidly off.



CHAPTER XI.

Trout-Fishing.

A few days after the events related in the preceding chapter transpired, Frank, with one or two companions, was standing in the post-office, waiting for the opening of the mail. The steamer had just landed, and the passengers which she had brought were slowly walking toward the hotel, where they intended to take dinner. At length, a village hack came rapidly down the road leading from the wharf, and, when it came opposite the post-office, a head was suddenly thrust out at the window, the driver reined in his horses, the door flew open, and Archie Winters sprang out.

We shall not attempt to describe the meeting of the cousins, nor the joy that prevailed among the village boys at the arrival of their city friend.

Archie had not written that it was his intention to come so soon, and his sudden appearance among them took them completely by surprise.

After a few moments' conversation, Frank and Archie got into the carriage, and, in a short time, were set down at the door of Mrs. Nelson's house.

Frank's mother and sister expressed much joy at Archie's arrival, and, after the excitement of meeting was over, they inquired after his parents.

"When are they coming?" asked Frank.

"They intended to come in the fall," answered Archie, "but father has more business on his hands than he expected, and they may not be here before the holidays; but I couldn't wait."

"I'm glad you didn't," said Frank. "You are not going home before spring, are you?"

"No," said Archie, "I'm going to stay as long as you will keep me."

Frank was overjoyed at this, and, if he had not been in the house, he would have given, as he said, "a yell that would have done credit to an Indian."

But, before going further, we must say a word about Archie's companions—we mean his dogs. One of them, that answered to the name of Sport, was as fine a fox-hound as one would wish to see. He was a large, tan-colored animal, very fleet and courageous, and was well acquainted with all the tricks of his favorite game, and the boys often boasted that "Sport had never lost a fox in his life." The black fox, which had held possession of Reynard's Island so long, was captured by Frank and his cousin, with the assistance of Sport, after a chase of three hours. Lightfoot—for that was the name of the other—was an English grayhound. He stood full three feet high at the shoulders, and his speed was tremendous. He was young, however, and knew nothing about hunting; but he had been taught to "fetch and carry," and, as he learned very readily, the boys expected plenty of sport in training him.

After supper, Archie's trunk was carried into the "study," and the boys busied themselves in taking out its contents. The clothing was all packed away in the bureau; and then came Archie's "sporting cabinet," as he called it—a fine double-barreled shot-gun, which was hung upon the frame at the foot of the bed; a quantity of ammunition, a small hatchet, powder-flasks, shot bags, and a number of other things, which were stowed away in safe places.

At length Archie drew out two fish-poles, neatly stowed away in strong bags, and one of them proved to be the one about which Archie had written. This was placed away in one corner, and Frank promised to mend it immediately.

"See here," said Archie, as he drew out two queer-looking implements; "I have been acting on the suggestion of Uncle Joe Lewis."

"What are they?" inquired Frank.

One of them was a thin rod of steel, about three feet in length, very pointed and sharp at the end the other looked very much like a fish-spear, only the "tines" were smaller and sharper.

"They are spears," said Archie, in answer to Frank's question.

"So I see; but what use can you put them to?"

"This," said Archie, taking up the rod of steel, "is a mink-spear. Last winter we lost a good many minks, when, if we had had an instrument like this, we could have secured them easily enough. You know that sometimes you get a mink into a place where you can see him, but, if you go to work to chop a hole large enough to get a stick in to kill him, he will jump out before you know what you are about. You will remember a little incident of this kind that happened last winter—that day we had such good luck. We were following a mink up the creek on the ice, when Brave suddenly stopped before a hollow stub, and stuck his nose into a hole, and acted as if there was a mink in there; and, you know, we didn't believe there was, but we thought we could stop and see. So we cut a hole in the stub, and, sure enough, there was a mink, and, as good luck would have it, we had cut the hole close to the place where he was, and we thought we had him sure; and, while Harry Butler went to cut a stick to kill him with, I chopped the hole a little larger, so that we could see him plainer, when, all of a sudden, out popped the mink, and, before we could say 'scat,' it was under the ice."

"Yes," said Frank, "I remember it very well; and, I guess, there were some mad boys around that place, somewhere."

"Yes," said Archie, "I was provoked because it was all my fault that we lost him. If we had had this spear, we could have killed him easy enough. We wouldn't be obliged to cut a hole larger than an inch square, and no mink I ever saw could get through that. And this," he continued, taking up the other instrument, "is a muskrat-spear. The way to proceed is this: Go to a muskrat's house, and, with an ax, cut a chunk out of the top, directly over where they sleep."

"And, by the time you get that done," said Frank, with a laugh, "the muskrats will be out of your way."

"I know that; they will undoubtedly start off the first blow you strike, and swim to some breathing-hole; but in a quarter of an hour they will be sure to return. While they are gone, you will have plenty of time to cut the chunk, and, after taking it out, place it carefully back, in such a manner that it can be removed instantly; then, if there are any other houses near, serve them in the same way. Then, in half an hour or so, take your spear and go to the houses, making as little noise at possible, and let your companion lift out the chunk suddenly, and you be ready to strike. Father says he has seen Uncle Joe Lewis catch half a dozen in one house, in this way, very frequently. He always spears the one nearest the passage that leads from the house down into the water, and this will prevent the others from escaping."

"I don't much like the idea," said Frank.

"Neither do I," said Archie. "It will do well enough for those who make their living by hunting; but, if I want to hunt muskrats, I would rather wait until the ice breaks up, in spring; I can then shoot them quite fast enough to suit me, and the sport is more exciting."

One morning, about a week after Archie's arrival, they arose, as usual, very early, and, while they were dressing, Frank drew aside the curtain, and looked out.

"I say, Archie," he exclaimed, "you've got your wish; it's a first-rate morning to go trout-fishing."

Archie had been waiting impatiently for a cloudy day; he was very fond of trout-fishing, and he readily agreed to his cousin's proposal to "take a trip to Dungeon Brook," and they commenced pulling on their "hunting and fishing rig," as they called it, which consisted of a pair of stout pantaloons that would resist water and dirt to the last extremity, heavy boots reaching above their knees, and a blue flannel shirt.

While Archie was getting their fishing-tackle ready, Frank busied himself in placing on the table in the kitchen such eatables as he could lay his hands on, for he and his cousin were the only ones up.

Their breakfast was eaten in a hurry; and, after drawing on their India-rubber coats—for Frank said it would rain before they returned—they slung on their fish-baskets, and took their trout-poles in their hands, and started out.

Dungeon Brook lay about five miles distant, through the woods. It was a long tramp, over fallen logs and through thick bushes; but it was famous for its large trout, and the boys knew they would be well repaid for their trouble.

In about two hours they arrived at their destination; and, after partaking of a lunch, which Frank had brought, they rigged their "flies," and Archie went up the brook a little distance, to try a place known among the boys as the "old trout-hole," while Frank dropped his hook down close to a large log that lay across the stream, near the place where he was standing. The bait sank slowly toward the bottom, when, suddenly, there was a tremendous jerk, and the line whizzed through the water with a force that bent the tough, elastic pole like a "reed shaken with the wind." Frank was a skillful fisherman, and, after a few moments' maneuvering, a trout weighing between three and four pounds lay floundering on the bank.

Archie soon came up, having been a little more successful, as two good-sized fish were struggling in his basket.

They walked slowly down the brook, stopping now and then to try some favorite spot, and, about three o'clock in the afternoon, they reached the place where the brook emptied into Glen's Creek, and were about two miles from home. They had been remarkably successful; their baskets were filled, and they had several "sockdologers" strung on a branch, which they carried in their hands.