took the note in the hand with his hat,
and wiped his red, wet forehead with an immense silk handkerchief
printed with the maritime flags of all nations. "A note! Who writes me
notes? Some of your nonsense, boys, eh?" So he hitched up his trousers
and sat down on the doorstep, placing the red handkerchief in his hat
beside him. "Let's see!"

"Good! good! that's very good. The middies have got their courage up.
The idea of such a stiff old seadog racing with you youngsters!"

"But you will though, won't you, Captain, and make Mr Clare, too?" said
Harry.

"Perhaps, boys, if Mr Clare will join, and then we will make you smart.
And I tell you what, young gentlemen, if you beat I'll give you a
splendid Malay race-boat that I have had stored in my ship-loft these
three years."

"Hurrah! Captain, we shall win the boat!" we all cried.

"Ha! ha! what boys for warm weather! You talk as brave as a west wind.
But I smell Juno's cooking; let's go in and talk it over with Mr Clare
and a warm dish of stew."

It was all settled to our satisfaction before dinner was over. Mr
Clare enjoyed the thing as much as the Captain, and declared they would
have to practise together once a week. As for us, we never missed our
two hours' pull every afternoon, rain or shine, blow high or blow low,
until the all-important day proposed for the race.

CHAPTER SIX.

DISSENSIONS IN CAMP.

For every afternoon of those beautiful June and July days we rowed for
two hours, from five to seven. Our studies were not relaxed in the
morning, and our hours for swimming were regularly enjoyed, but the
absorbing topic of thought and conversation was the approaching
boat-race. Twice on Saturday afternoons we had seen Captain Mugford and
Mr Clare pulling in their boat. They did not condescend to practise
oftener, but we noticed that they worked in earnest when they did row.
With the confidence of youth we feared not, feeling sanguine that we
must beat them.

There was a vein of discord, however, in our little colony. Alfred
Higginson and my brother Drake, who only differed by a few months in
age, in other respects differed greatly, and had never been able, since
our first acquaintance, to get along together. Alfred Higginson was of
a nervous, sensitive disposition, quick in temper, and easily provoked.
His tastes were fastidious. He was an excellent scholar, (much better
than my brother Drake), and very fond of reading. He entered ful