BUILDING A BOAT.

I.

"Oh, if we only had a boat, what jolly fun we might have!" exclaimed Jack Gordon regretfully, following with his eyes the bright waters as they rushed along,—now coursing smoothly, now leaping in the sunshine; again darkened for the moment, and eddying beneath the shade of the overhanging branches of a willow tree; then in the distance coming almost to a standstill, and expanding into the clear, floating mirror of the mill-pond.

"That's so," answered Rob Stuart, laconically. The two boys were lounging on the bank of the creek, which, though dignified by the name of Hohokus River and situated in New Jersey, is not considered of sufficient importance to be designated on the map of that State, even by one of those wavering, nameless lines which seem to be hopelessly entangled with one another for the express purpose of confusing a fellow who has neglected his geography lesson until the last moment.

"Yes, if we had a boat we might explore this stream from source to mouth," continued Jack, who was always in search of adventures.

"A canoe?" suggested Rob.

"That would be just the thing," agreed Jack. "But a regular canoe, made of birch bark or paper, would cost too much. I'll tell you what it is, Rob. Jim and I have next to nothing in the treasury at present. We haven't had a chance to earn much lately."

"I'm about dead broke, too," replied Rob.

"I say," exclaimed Jack, after a moment of silence, "suppose we make one?"

"Make one!" echoed Rob, surprised.

"Why, yes. All we need is a flat-bottomed boat; and it ought not to be hard to put one together. Uncle Gerald promised to give me some boards for my chicken-coops; perhaps he would add a few more if he knew what we wanted them for. Let's go over and see if he is at home now,"

"All right," answered Rob, preparing to start.

Jack and Rob might almost always be found together. They were of about the same age,—Jack being fourteen on his last birthday, the 22d of January, and Rob on the 30th of the following March. They lived within a stone's-throw of each other, and had been friends from the time they were little chaps.

Mr. Gerald Sheridan was a merchant who did business in New York, but he was now taking a few days' vacation, to look a little after the work upon his farm, which was in charge of a hired man. His house, situated a short distance down the road, was large and spacious. The boys walked briskly toward it, planning as they went.

At Uncle Gerald's the latch string was always out—that is, if the door was not standing hospitably open, as was usually the case in pleasant spring or summer weather; one had only to turn the knob and walk in. Just as they were about to enter the square, home-like hall, lined with old-fashioned settles and adorned with fowling-pieces, fishing-rods, tennis rackets, and the like, Jack's cousin, eleven-year-old Leo, came out of an adjoining room and said;

"Hello! You want to see father? Well, he's over yonder"—pointing to a sunny patch of ground toward the south,—"showing Michael how he wants the vegetable garden planted. Wait a minute and I'll go with you."

Leo's hat having been discovered in a corner where he had tossed it an hour or two earlier, they started on a race to the garden, and brought up suddenly in front of Uncle Gerald, who now, in a dark blue flannel shirt, trousers to match, and a broad-brimmed hat of grey felt, was evidently dressed for the role of a farmer. He was a pleasant man, tall and slight in figure, with blue eyes, a brown beard, and a cheery, kindly manner, which made him a favorite with everybody, and especially with boys, in whose projects he was always interested.

"Give you the wood to build a boat?" he repeated, when told what Jack and Rob wanted to accomplish. "Willingly. I am glad to have you attempt something of the kind. I have always maintained that boys should be taught to work with their hands. Every youth ought to learn the use of tools, just as a girl learns to sew, to cook, and help her mother in household duties. Then we should not have so many awkward, stupid, bungling fellows, who can not do anything for themselves. It is as disgraceful for a lad not to be able to drive a nail straight without pounding his fingers or thumb as it is for a girl not to know how to stitch on a button. But I am letting my hobby run away with me, and no doubt you are anxious to be off. You will find the lumber piled in the storeroom of the barn. Take what you need. Perhaps Leo will lend you his pony to draw the load home."

"Thank you, sir!" answered Jack, heartily.

Now that the means of carrying out his plan were insured to him, he did not feel in such a hurry; and, furthermore, though quite satisfied that he should have no trouble about it, he would not have objected to a few hints as to how to begin.

"Can you tell me, Uncle," asked the boy, half jocosely, "if any of the distinguished men you are thinking of ever attempted to make a boat?"

"To be sure," returned the gentleman. "There was Peter the Great, who, though a tyrannical ruler, might have earned fair wages as a ship-builder. But we shall have to talk about him another time, when I have leisure; for I see that at present Michael wants me to devote all my attention to tomato plants, peas, beans, and seed potatoes. If you wait till tomorrow, I will show you how to set to work."

"Oh, I guess we can get on!" returned Jack, becoming impatient again, and feeling that it would be impossible to delay, with the whole bright day before them. Rob seemed to be of the same opinion.

Uncle Gerald smiled, reflecting that, since manual training does not begin with boat-building, they would soon discover the task so confidently undertaken to be a far greater one than they realized. He made no comment, however; and the boys started for the barn-loft, where they selected the wood best suited to their purpose, and carried it down to the yard, where Leo had dragged out the pony wagon.

"Here," said he, "you may stow the boards into this; and I'll lend you Winkie to draw them home, if you'll promise to let Jim and me see you build the boat."

Jack's brother Jim was a year older than Leo; but the two chummed together, and were accustomed to stand up for each other, and thus hold their own against the big boys, who were sometimes rather too much inclined to adopt a patronizing tone toward them.

Jack and Rob now exchanged significant glances, which said plainly that they would prefer the loan of the pony without any conditions. It would be annoying to have the little fellows "tagging after them." But there was no help for it. The pony belonged to Leo, and they could not take it without his permission.

"Oh—ahem—I suppose so! Hey, Rob?" said Jack, shutting one eye expressively.

"Well—yes," agreed Rob, appreciating the situation.

They went round to the front of Winkie's stall. Immediately a shaggy head protruded through the window-like opening, a pair of bright eyes passed over the other visitors and rested upon Leo, with a look which might well be interpreted as one of affection; and a rough nose rubbed up against the boy's arm, this being Winkle's way of expressing delight at seeing his master. He rather resented any attempt at petting from Jack or Rob, however; which led them to tease him, much as they would play with a dog,—for he was only a little Shetland pony, hardly larger than a good-sized Newfoundland.

"Kittelywink!" exclaimed Rob, giving him his full name, which had been shortened for the sake of euphony. "What in the world did you call him that for?"

"Well, I can't exactly say," replied Leo; "but somehow it's a name that's all jumbled up and confused like, and, that is just about how you feel when he gets playing his pranks. Presto, change! you know. Now you're here, and now you don't know where you are, but most likely it is in the middle of a dusty or muddy road. Oh, you don't mind the fall, 'cause he has an accommodating way of letting you down easy; but it hurts your feelings awful, especially if there's anybody round. You don't seem as big as you were a few moments before. He doesn't act that way with me now, because I try to be always kind and gentle with him. But you just attempt to really plague him, and see who'll get the best of it."

"Thank you, I guess I won't mind," responded Rob, in a dry tone, which made the others laugh. He already knew by experience something of the pony's capers, though it had been in Leo's possession only a few weeks; while Jack, having been away on a visit, had never driven Winkie.

"Perhaps if you changed his name he would behave better," suggested Rob.

"I did think of that," answered Leo, seriously. "I had half a mind to call him Cream Puff; you see he's just the color of those lovely ones they sell at the baker's."

Both the boys laughed heartily.

"Crickey! that is an odd name, sure enough, and would suit him splendidly!" said Rob.

"Yes, and he'd have to be sweet and nice all the time, in order to live up to it," added Jack.

"Oh, you must not think he is ugly or vicious!" continued Leo. "He never tried to run away, and most of his antics are nothing but sport. He is not really bad, only a bit contrary occasionally, as Michael says. Mother declares that he reminds her sometimes of a boy who has forgotten to say his prayers in the morning, 'cause then he (the boy, you know) is apt to be fractious, and keeps getting into trouble all day."

"Ha, Leo, what a dead give away!" exclaimed Jack, in a badgering manner. "That's the way it is with you, is it?"

"That's the way with most fellows, I'll wager!" mumbled Leo, growing red, and wishing he had not been quite so communicative.

Neither of the others replied to this, but each secretly admitted that there was a good deal of truth in what he said.

They all assisted in harnessing Kittelywink, who appeared to think this great fun. However, when it became evident that he was expected to draw the little wagon laden with the lumber, he protested decidedly.

"He doesn't want to be used as a dray-horse," observed Leo, sympathetically.

Whether Winkie's pride was indeed hurt at being put to menial employment, or whether he simply felt it an imposition to require him to carry a pile of boards and three sturdy lads in addition, it is impossible to say. At all events, he refused to budge.

"Pshaw!" said Jack. "You fellows had better get off. I'll drive."

There was nothing to be done but for Rob and Leo to scramble down.

"Geet a-a-p!" cried Jack, giving the pony a sharp lash with the whip.

Winkle bounded forward, and darted up the road at what may be called literally a rattling speed; for the boards clattered away at every revolution of the wheels, and the driver found some difficulty in keeping his seat. Jack became excited. He sawed at the pony's mouth and drew him up so suddenly as to pull him back on his haunches. Winkie resolutely objected to these proceedings, and forthwith absolutely declined to go a step farther.

Rob and Leo came running up.

"Jingo, but he's a beauty!", exclaimed Rob, with admiring sincerity.

Winkie, in truth, looked very handsome and roguish as he stood there, with his head bent doggedly, his shaggy mane blown about by the wind, and his bright eyes mischievously asking as plainly as they could: "Well, what are you going to do about it?"

"Huh! Handsome is that handsome does!" grumbled Jack. "But I'll teach him to behave himself."

He raised the whip once more, but Leo caught his arm, crying,

"No, you must not whip him. Father says a horse can be managed by kindness better than in any other way."

"Oh, I must not!" repeated Jack, ironically; but, glancing at Leo's face, he saw that his cousin looked flushed and determined. It would not do to quarrel with such a little fellow as Leo, so he checked the sharp words that rose to his lips, and answered with an effort to be good-natured: "Try it yourself, then. I'll just sit here and hold the reins, and you can reason with him all you have a mind to."

Leo went up to the pony's head, patted and spoke gently to him. Winkie arched his neck, then put down his nose and coolly rubbed it all over his young master's face, as if deprecating his misconduct, while making his complaint, as it were, that he had not been fairly treated.

"If he isn't the cutest chap!" ejaculated Rob, delighted at his sagacity.

Jack could not help being amused also.

"Come now, Kittelywink, go 'long!" said he. "You shall have some sugar when I get home."

Most horses are very fond of sugar, and Winkie was no exception. He turned his ears back, with what Rob called "a pleased expression," at this propitiatory tone. But, although he enjoyed the petting now lavished upon him from all quarters, his sensibilities had apparently been too deeply wounded to admit of his being at once conciliated.

"I know!" suggested Jack, unwilling to relinquish the reins. "Suppose I ride on his back?"

Leo demurred till he saw that the pony did not oppose Jack's endeavor to mount. Winkie appeared to be under the impression that they were now to leave the wagon and the despised load behind. To the surprise of the boys he started ahead willingly, and Jack's spirits rose.

"Ha-ha! that's a good fellow!" he began.

Winkie went on a few rods. Presently he discovered that his expectations were not to be realized. The wagon was unusually heavy still; the clattering boards set up a racket every time he moved. He could not get away from them. It might be a good plan to try again, though. He capered and danced, then plunged onward. Jack did not look like a model horseman at this juncture. The boys screamed at him, giving contrary advice; though this made no difference, for his utmost exertions were directed to clinging to his refractory steed.

The pony was only annoyed, not frightened. He seemed to find Jack's efforts to keep from falling off quite entertaining. Suddenly a new idea occurred to him. What a wonder that he did not think of it before! He veered toward the side of the way, stopped abruptly, and, bending his head, sent Jack flying over it into the ditch. A grand success! With a satisfied air Winkie followed up his victory, approached his prostrate antagonist, regarded him for a moment, and—for he wore no check-line—putting down that clever nose of his, by a playful push with it he rolled the boy fairly over, and then set off in a steady trot along the highway.

II.

Winkie had just reached the gate of Jack's home, when our young friends caught up with him. Leo was now allowed to assume control, and, by dint of much coaxing and encouragement, at length succeeded in leading him to Mr. Gordon's barn. The wagon was here unloaded, after which Leo leaped into it, crying, "Come on, old fellow; that's all!" And Winkie, shaking his mane, as if felicitating himself that the disagreeable task was over, started off with much satisfaction.

"I'll be back again this afternoon," his little master shouted to the others as he drove away; "but—I think I'll walk!"

For the next fortnight the lads spent the greater part of the time in the Gordon barn. Such a hammering and sawing as went on there! At first the proceedings were enveloped in an air of mystery. Jack's father suspected that they were preparing for an amateur circus performance. His mother wondered at the interest manifested in the repair of the chicken-coops. Some experiment was in progress, she was sure; but what? At last the secret came out. They were building a boat!

Jack and Rob did it all. "The little boys"—as they were accustomed to call Jim and Leo, much to the chagrin of the latter—were not permitted to have anything to say. They were to keep their eyes open and learn by observation. This they did, though not with exactly the result that had been intended. Before long they understood very well what not to do in building a boat. But we are all liable to make mistakes; and are we not continually teaching others, at least by our experience?

In season and out of season the work went on. Little Barbara Stuart was constantly coming over to ask: "Is Rob here? Mother wants him; he hasn't half finished what he had to do at home." Leo kept getting into trouble because he would stop at his cousin's, instead of going directly home from school as his father wished him to do. Jim, who had a decided, but, alas! entirely uncultivated, taste for drawing, spoiled his new writing-book with extraordinary sketches meant to represent every kind of boat, from a punt or dory to an ocean steamer; and in consequence was not on good terms with the schoolmaster, who did not appreciate such evidences of genius.

Jack—well, everything seemed to go wrong with him. "Where is Jack?"—"Oh, bother, over at the barn!" The answer soon became a byword. The barn was at some distance from the house, and what a time there was in summoning the boy! The method was sufficiently telling, one would think, since it informed the whole neighborhood when he was wanted. It consisted in blowing the horn for him. Now, this was no common horn, but the voice of a giant imprisoned in a cylinder. Jack could have explained it upon the principle of compressed air, for he was studying natural philosophy; but Mr. Sheridan's Michael once described it in this way:

"Sure, it's the queerest thing that ever ye saw! Ye just jam one piece of tin pipe into another piece of tin pipe, as hard as ye can; an' it lets a wail out of it that ye'd think would strike terror to the heart of a stone and wake the dead!"

Whatever effect it might have upon granite or ghosts, however, Jack was usually so engrossed with the boat as to be deaf to its call. If Mrs. Gordon wanted him to harness a horse for her in a hurry, there was no use in sounding a bugle blast; she might try again and again, but in the end she would have to send some one over to him with the message. If he was sent up to the village on an errand, or told to do anything which took him away from his work, he either objected, or complied with a very bad grace.

"I'll tell ye one thing," said Mary Ann the cook, one day when neither Jack nor Jim would go to the store for her, though it would only have taken a few minutes to make the trip on the bicycle,—"I'll tell ye one thing, young sirs. Ye can't expect to have a bit of luck with that boat ye're buildin'."

"No luck! Why not, I'd like to know?" inquired Jack.

"Because all four of ye boys are neglectin' what ye ought to do, and takin' for this the time which by right should be spent on other things; because ye've given yer fathers and mothers more cause to find fault with ye durin' the last two or three weeks than for long before, all on account of it; because ye're none of ye so good-natured as ye used to be. I've heard that havin' a bee in the bonnet spoils a body; but faith I think a boat on the brain is worse. There's one thing, though, that my mind's made up to. I'll make no more cookies for young gentlemen that are not polite and obligin'."

Here was a threat! But, though the boys were secretly somewhat disconcerted, they would not give Mary Ann the satisfaction of seeing that either her prophecy or warning had any effect upon them.

"Pshaw, Mary Ann, you're so cross to-day!" declared Jim.

"It isn't always the good people who seem to have the best luck," continued Jack, braving it out. "And how can you tell whether we'll succeed or not? You are not a fortune-teller."

"Heaven forbid!" ejaculated Mary Ann, devoutly. "And, to be sure, there's plenty of people that gets on very successfully in the world, that don't seem to deserve to prosper half as much as others we know of. But God sees what we don't, and this much we may be certain of: wrong-doin' is always punished sooner or later; while we know that, in the end, those that tries to do right gets their full share of blessin's and a good bit over and above. I'm not sayin' indeed that ye won't build yer boat, only that if ye neglect yer duty ye'll have reason to regret it."

"Well, don't cast an 'evil eye' on the boat, anyway," said Jim; "for if we don't finish it, how can we ever give you a row on the creek?"

"Is it I ride in yer boat!" exclaimed Mary Ann, who was stout and short-breathed. The idea of trusting herself to the tender mercies of the lads, and venturing into any craft of their construction, was so ludicrous that she forgot her vexation and laughed heartily. "Faith, it's fine ballast I'd be for ye!" she said. "And is it in the middle of the river ye'd be landin' me? Thank ye kindly, but I'll not go a pleasurin' with ye. And as for an 'evil eye,' troth ye're but makin' game of my want of book-larnin'. But well I know there's no such thing; and if there was, it could never harm ye or yer work if ye were doin' right. So now be off with ye to the store, and bring me five pounds of sugar, quick as ye can. And if ye take the molasses jug along and get it filled—well, this once I'll beat up a batch of cookies, so ye can have some for yer lunch at school to-morrow."

III.

At last the wonderful boat was pronounced finished. It had obviously not been modeled with an eye to beauty—was flat as the barn floor, square at both ends, and entirely lacking in the curves which constitute the grace of the seabird-like craft which are the delight of yachtmen. Nevertheless, the boys were proud of it. It was their own: they had built it themselves.

"There she is, complete from bow to stern!" exclaimed Jack, with a satisfied air.

"Yes," responded Leo, admiringly. "But"—hesitating—"but—which is the bow and which the stern, you know—eh?"

"Why, this end, stupid! Don't you see I've marked it with a cross?" answered Jack.

"Perhaps I am stupid," thought Leo; "for I don't understand now how one end can be both. I wish Jack would be a little more particular about explaining a thing. It's queer how few fellows are! They jumble their words all up, and think that because they know what they mean, you ought to understand, of course."

"Well," observed Jim, quizzically, "she isn't quite as handsome as the barges on the lake in the park, that float up and down, looking like white swans. Yes, I guess she'll do."

"We didn't set out to build a gondola, to paddle children and nursery maids around in," retorted Rob, with a withering glance. "She's a good, serviceable boat, and safe—"

"Oh, safe as a tub!" agreed Jim, hastily, intending the remark as conciliatory.

"Huh! Perhaps you never tried to pilot a tub," interposed Leo. "I did the other day, just for practice, so I'd know how to row when the time came to use this here punt—if that's what you call it. Jimminy! I got tipped over into the creek, and a scolding besides when I went home! I'd be sorry to have her act like that."

"A tub is a tub and a boat is a boat," said Jack, sententiously. "This one couldn't tip over if it tried. Don't you see it's most square? In fact, we didn't mean to get it quite so wide; but, after all, it is better than those canoe-like things, which are always rocking from one side to the other."

"What are you going to name it?" asked Jim.

Jack looked nonplussed. This necessity had not occurred to him before. He appealed to Rob.

"Suppose," replied the latter, after mature deliberation,—"suppose we call it the Sylph? There's a, story in the Boys' Own about a beautiful boat called the Sylph."

"Cricky! it looks about as much like a sylph as—well, as Mary Ann does!" said Jim. Since the stout, good-natured cook was heavy, and nearly square in figure, the comparison was amusingly apt.

"Do you remember the tents at Coney Island in summer, where a regular wooden circus procession goes round in a ring, keeping time to the music?" asked Leo.

"Yes, and by paying five cents you can take your choice, and ride on a zebra or a lion or a big gold ostrich, or anything that's there. And once we chose a scrumptious boat, all blue and silver, and drawn by two swans," responded Jim.

"Well, what was the name of that?" said Leo.

"I think the man told us she was known as the Fairy," answered Jim.

Again they looked at the boat and shook their heads. It would not do.

"I did not mean the name of the blue and silver barge, but of the whole thing—the ring and all?" added Leo.

"Oh, the Merry-go-Round," said Jack.

"Why would not that be a good name?" argued Rob, pleased with the sound, and, like many a person whose fancy is caught by the jingle of a word, paying little attention to its sense.

"That is what I thought," began Leo, delighted to find his motion seconded, as he would have explained in the language of the juvenile debating society, which met periodically in that very barn.

"Why! do you expect this boat to keep going round and round when we get it out into the middle of the creek?" said practical Jack, pretending to be highly indignant at the imputation.

"No indeed," disclaimed Rob. "Only that she would go around everywhere—up and down the stream, you know; and on an exploring expedition, as we proposed."

"That is not so bad," Jack admitted. "Still, I think we could get a better name. Let us see! The Merry Sailor,—how's that?"

"N—no—hardly," murmured Bob.

"The Jolly Sail—I have it: the Jolly Pioneer!"

"Hurrah!" cried Jim. "The very thing!"

"Yes, I guess that fits pretty well," acknowledged Rob.

"It's capital!" volunteered Leo.

And so the matter was finally settled. The Jolly Pioneer was still destitute of paint, but the boys were in so great a hurry to launch her that they decided not to delay on this account. They carried her down to the creek, and by means of a board slid her into the water. Jack got into the boat first, while the others held the side close to the bank. After him came Rob. Jim and Leo were to follow, but the Jolly Pioneer seemed to have dwindled in size, and did not look half so big or imposing as when in the barn.

"Hold on!" cried Jack. "I'm afraid you will be too heavy. It won't do to crowd at first. We'll just row gently with the current a short distance, and then come back and let you have a turn."

Though disappointed, the little fellows did not demur, but handed him the oars, and waited to see the two boys glide away. But, alas! though the Jolly Pioneer moved a little, it was not with the freedom and confidence which was to be expected of her in her native element. She seemed to shrink and falter, "as if afraid of getting wet," as Jim laughingly declared.

"Hello! what's that?" exclaimed Rob, as he felt something cold at his feet. He looked down: his shoes were thoroughly wet; the water was coming in through the crevices of the boat.

"Pshaw!" cried Jack. "That is because it is new yet; when the wood is soaked it will swell a bit. Hurry and bail out the water, though."

"But we haven't anything to do it with," returned Rob, helplessly.

"Oh, take your hat, man! A fine sailor you'd make!" Jack answered, setting the example by dipping in his own old felt. Rob's was a new straw yet. Unfortunately for its appearance during the remainder of the summer, he did not think of this, but immediately went to work. Their efforts were of no use: the Jolly Pioneer sank slowly but surely.

"Don't give up the ship!" cried Jack, melodramatically.

So as neither of the boys attempted to get out, and thus lessen the weight, down, down it went, till it reached the pebbly bed of the creek, and they found themselves—still in the boat to be sure, but standing up to their waists in water. The worst of the mortification was that the little fellows, high and dry on the bank, were choking with laughter, which finally could no longer be suppressed, and broke forth in a merry peal.

"What do you want to stand there guffawing for?" called Jack, ill-naturedly. "Why don't you try to get the oars?"

Thus made to realize that they might be of some assistance, Jim and Leo waded in heroically, unmindful of the effect upon shoes, stockings, and clothing generally, and rescued the oars, of which poor Jack had carelessly relaxed his hold in the effort to bail out the boat, and which were being carried swiftly away by the current.

In the meantime Jack and Rob succeeded in raising the Jolly Pioneer and hauling her up on the bank. While they stood there, contemplating her in discouragement, and regardless of their own bedraggled condition, who should come along but Uncle Gerald.

"Hie! what is the matter?" he called from the road, suspecting the situation at once.

"Something is wrong with the blamed boat, after all!" Jack shouted back, impatiently.

Uncle Gerald leaped over the low wall, which separated the highway from the meadow, and was presently among them, surveying the unfortunate Pioneer, which now did not look at all jolly, but wore a dejected appearance, one might fancy, as if out of conceit with itself at having proved such a miserable failure.

"There! I suppose he'll say, 'If you had not been so positive that you knew all about boatbuilding—if you had come to me for the advice I promised you,—this would not have happened,'" thought Jack; feeling that (like the story of the last straw placed upon the overladen pack-horse, which proved too much for its strength) to be thus reminded would make the burden of his vexations greater than he could bear.

Uncle Gerald might indeed have moralized in some such fashion, but he considerately refrained, and only remarked, kindly:

"Do not be disheartened. This is not such bad work for a first attempt. The boat would look better if it were painted, and that would fill up a few of the cracks too. As some of the boards are not dovetailed together, you should have calked the seams with oakum."

"To be sure!" responded Jack. "How could we have had so little gumption as not to have thought of it?"

"Oakum is hemp obtained from untwisting old ropes," continued Uncle Gerald. "In genuine ship-building, calking consists in crowding threads of this material with great force into the seams between the planks. When filled, they are then rubbed over with pitch, or what is known as marine glue,—a composition of shellac and caoutchouc. It will not be necessary for you to do all this, however. Oakum is often used for packing goods also. I dare say if you hunt around in the barn you will find a little lying about somewhere. But, bless me, you young rogues! Here you are all this time in your wet clothes. Leo, your mother will be worried for fear you may take cold. Run home as fast as you can and get into a dry suit. And you other fellows, come! We'll take the Jolly Pioneer back to the workshop without delay; and then you must hurry and do the same."

IV.

Many days had not passed before the boys succeeded in making the punt water-tight. Yet the carpentering still went on at the barn.

"What is all the hammering for now?" asked Mr. Gordon one afternoon. "I thought the Jolly Pioneer was in splendid trim and doing good service."

"So she is," answered Jack. "But—well, she doesn't quite come up to our expectations; so Rob and I have given her to the little boys. We are building a larger boat for ourselves."

Upon the principle "Never look a gift-horse in the mouth," Jim and Leo were not disposed to find anything amiss with the present. In the first flush of their pride of possession they were quite jubilant.

It was shortly after this that Jim came in to dinner one day, tattooed in a manner which would remind one of a sachem in full Indian war-paint. There was a patch of blue low down on one cheek, a daub of red high up on the other, a tip of chrome-yellow on the end of his nose, and a fair share of all three upon his hands, and the sleeve of his jacket as well.

"Why, my son!" exclaimed Mrs. Gordon, as this vision met her eyes.

"Can't help it, mother,—it won't come off. I've scrubbed and scrubbed!" the little fellow protested, apologetically.

"Plenty of hot water and soap will prove effectual. But you must persevere," she went on, good-naturedly. "But what is the reason of this extraordinary decoration? Do you want to be taken for the 'missing link'?"

Mrs. Gordon was always good friends with her boys. She had a bright, cheery way of talking to them, of entering into their plans. She thoroughly appreciated a joke, even a practical one, when it was not perpetrated at the expense of anybody's feelings. And the lads could always count upon her interest and sympathy. It was not easy to impose upon her, though. "I tell you, if a fellow tries, he is always sure to get the worst of it!" Jim used to say.

"Ah, that is better!" said she, when Jim returned to the dining-room, his face at last restored to its usual sunburnt hue, and shining from the effect of a liberal lather of soap-suds, and his hands also of a comparatively respectable color. "Now, do tell us what you have been attempting."

"Haven't been attempting anything," he mumbled. "Leo and I were painting our boat, that is all. We hurried so as to finish it before dinner. I suppose that is the reason the paint got splashed around a little."

Jim's temper had manifestly been somewhat ruffled by the necessity of repeating the soap and water process. He frowned like a thundercloud.

Mrs. Gordon, however, always had great consideration for a hungry boy. Without appearing to notice that Jim was out of sorts, she merely remarked, while helping him bountifully to beefsteak: "You have painted the Jolly Pioneer? How well she must look! I believe I'll walk over to the barn after dinner and see her."

"Will you really, mother?" he exclaimed, brightening at once.

"Yes, certainly. What color did you choose?"

"Blue, with red and yellow trimmings," answered the boy, exultingly.

His mother smiled. She had inferred so. But Jim's ill-humor had vanished like mists before the sun. The next moment he was explaining to her the merits of various kinds of paint, and discussing the question with Jack, in the best possible spirits.

V.

Jack and Rob took counsel with Mr. Sheridan in the construction of the new boat, and very creditable and satisfactory was the result. The ceremonies of the launch were now to be observed with as much formality as if she were the crack yacht of the season,—"Barrin' the traditional bottle of champagne, which it is customary to break over the bows of the new skiff as she plunges into the sea," laughed Uncle Gerald; "and that would not do at all for you, boys."

"No, sir," answered Jack, decidedly. "If it was as cheap and as plentiful as soda-water, we wouldn't have it."

"I am glad to hear you say that," continued Leo's father, warmly. "It is one of the best resolutions to start in life with."

"You know, we have joined the temperance cadet corps which Father Martin is getting up," explained Rob.

"An excellent plan. I had not heard of it," responded the gentleman. "Persevere, and you will find that by encouraging you in this, Father Martin has proved one of the truest friends you are ever likely to have. However, the old custom of christening a boat, as it is called, may be carried out quite as effectively with a bottle of ginger-pop, which Leo has stowed away somewhere in that basket. It is the part of common-sense to unite true poetry and prose, just as we now propose to combine a picturesque custom with temperance principles. So, boys, hurrah for ginger-pop, say I!"

The lads entered into the spirit of his mood with great gusto, and cheered hilariously. The basket was produced, and at this moment Mrs. Gordon was seen coming across the meadow. "Just in time, mother!" cried Jack, starting off to meet her.

"You must christen the boat!" vociferated all.

"And is that the reason why Uncle Gerald sent for me, and brought me away from my morning's mending?" she exclaimed, in a tone which was intended to be slightly reproachful, though she looked prepared for anything that might be required of her; for Mrs. Gordon, somehow, managed never to be so busy as to be unable to enter into the pleasures of her boys.

"Yes," acknowledged Uncle Gerald; "and I have been doing my utmost to delay the proceedings, so that you would not miss them. You see, Leo and I have prepared a little surprise for the company."

After a comprehensive glance at the basket, which certainly appeared well packed, she asked:

"And what is to be the name of the boat?"

"We have not quite decided yet, Mrs. Gordon," began Rob.

"No," interposed Jack. "We think this ought to be the Jolly Pioneer. We let Jim and Leo have the other boat, but we didn't mean to give them the name too. We chose it, and we can't think of any we like so well."

"Oh, keep it, then!" answered Jim, with a wave of the hand like that of a stage hero resigning a fortune. (It was evident that the subject had been broached before.) "We are quite able to choose a name ourselves; we could think of half a dozen others if we wanted to, so you are welcome to call your boat whatever you please."

The permission might, indeed, have been more graciously expressed; but as Jim's words were accompanied by a good-natured smile. Jack wondered if he might not accept it.

Mrs. Gordon stood, with the bottle in her hand, waiting for the decision, but wisely refraining from comment; the boys always settled their little disputes for themselves.

"Well, what shall it be? Speak!" she said.

"The Jolly Pioneer!" cried both.

The next moment there was a crash of broken glass and a dash of ginger-pop on what was called by courtesy the bow.

"Bravo! The Jolly Pioneer is a new recruit enlisted into the temperance cadet corps," said Uncle Gerald, laughing.

There was a shifting of planks by Rob and Jack, and in another moment the little craft was dancing gaily upon the bright waters.

"Hurrah, hurrah!" cried the boys in chorus.

By turns they rowed a short distance down the stream and back. There was no danger of sinking this time. Then they gathered under the tree, where Mrs. Gordon and Uncle Gerald had unpacked the basket and set forth a tempting lunch upon a tablecloth on the grass. As hunger is said to be the best sauce, so good-humor sweetens the simplest fare. Our friends enjoyed their sandwiches and doughnuts, and milk rich with cream, as much as if a banquet had been spread before them. There was plenty of fun, too; and though the wit was not very brilliant, it was innocent and kindly, and served its purpose; for the company were quite ready to be pleased at any one's effort to be entertaining or amusing.

After an hour or more, Mrs. Gordon announced her intention of returning to the house.

"And I must be off also; for I have to drive two or three miles up country, about some business," added her brother.

"We shall all have to leave now," said Jack. "Father Martin is going to drill the cadets for a short time in the early part of the afternoon."

"What arrangements have you made for fastening your boat?" asked Uncle Gerald. "To guard against its being tampered with by meddlesome persons, as well as to prevent its drifting away, you ought to secure it to a stake near the bank by means of a padlock."

"We forgot to get one," returned Jack. "No one will touch it here. I'll tie it to a tree with this piece of rope, so that it won't go floating off on an exploring expedition on its own account."

The next day was Sunday, and the boys had no chance to use the boat again until Monday after school. When they hurried to the spot where it had been moored, alas! the Jolly Pioneer was nowhere to be seen.

"Do you think she broke away?" asked Leo.

"Pshaw! The Jolly Pioneer isn't a pony!" impatiently answered Jack.

"But the rope might have snapped," said Jim.

"No: the boat has been stolen," muttered Bob, gloomily.

"I don't believe that," continued Jim. "Perhaps some of the fellows around have hidden her, just to plague us."

"I bet it was those Jenkins boys!" declared Jack. "Don't you remember, Rob, how we made them stop badgering little Tommy Casey in the school-yard the other day, and how mad they were about it?"

"Yes, and they swore they'd be even with us," answered Rob.

The Jenkins boys were the children of a drunken father, a slatternly mother. Brought up in a comfortless, poverty-stricken home, without any religious teaching or influences, what wonder that they became addicted to most of the petty vices,—that they acquired an unenviable reputation for mischief, mendacity, and thieving in a small way?

Jack's inference could hardly be called a rash judgment. A glimpse of a derisive, grinning face among the neighboring bushes confirmed his suspicions. Without a word he made a dash toward the thicket. His companions understood, however, and were not slow to follow his example. There was a crackling of the brambles, succeeded by a stampede. Jack, with all his alertness, had not been quite quick enough. With a jeering whoop, two shabby figures escaped into the road.

"The question is, where's the boat?" said Rob, as the party paused for breath, finding that pursuit was useless.

They searched about in the vicinity without avail, but after some time the Jolly Pioneer was finally discovered half a mile farther down the stream, entangled among a clump of willows, where the pirates, as Jim designated the Jenkins boys, had abandoned it. To return to the place from which they had taken the boat, in order to enjoy the discomfiture and dismay of those against whom they had a grudge, was characteristic of them.

"Good! I knew we'd find the boat all right!" began Leo, joyfully.

"By Jove! pretty well damaged, I should say!" cried Jack.

"Well, the paint is a good deal scratched, and the seats have been loosened; but, after all, there is no great harm done," said Rob, more hopefully.

Upon further examination, his view of the case proved to be correct. He and Jack experienced but little difficulty in rowing back to the original moorings, Jim and Leo following along the bank and applauding their skill.

After this occurrence the Jolly Pioneer and the Merry-go-Round were each fastened to a sapling, that grew near the water's edge, by chain and padlock, which rendered them secure from interference.

And what merry times our friends had with them upon the creek that summer! The Jolly Pioneer proved worthy of its name, was always the best of company, and led the way in many pleasant excursions up and down the stream. The Merry-go-Round was never far behind, and shared the honors of all its adventures.

"I tell you now," exclaimed Leo, admiringly, one day when the lads were preparing for a row, "I don't believe you'd find two such boats in all the country about here."

A critical observer might have facetiously agreed with him, but the boys were content with what they had, not being able to obtain anything better; and is not that one way to be happy?

"Well, they may not be beauties," continued Jim; "and you can't exactly call them racers; but, somehow, they keep afloat, and one can manage them first-rate."

"And we've had enough fun with them to repay us for all the trouble we had in making them," added Rob.

Jack laughed at the recollection.

"Yes," remarked Uncle Gerald, who had just come up, on his way to the meadow pasture. "And I think, boys, you will all acknowledge that you learned a good many useful things while building a boat."