"pair of bars," put in proper position the
ladder, and suspended swings, that they might practice gymnastics every
day. Every mother who had a boy in that club expected almost any day that
her idol might be brought home stretched on a shutter or bundled up in a
wheelbarrow. No limb though was broken, and there were some wonderful
developments of "muscle" (so the club thought). One day the new honorary
member made an offer.

"Boys, I can have the next Saturday afternoon that comes along, and Aunt
Stanshy says there is a garrison-house on the other side of the river.
Come, I'll hire a boat and take you over."

"O good!" "Yes, we'll go!" "Three cheers!" "Hurrah for Will Somers!" were
some of the outcries greeting the proposition.

"I think, boys, all the honorary members ought to be invited."

"Certainly," said Sid, and Aunt Stanshy was invited.

"See me going! The idea!" she exclaimed.

"What if the minister should see me going off with a parcel of boys!"

"He would say you were a very sensible woman," said Charlie, and Aunt
Stanshy went.

The club admired the rowing of Will Somers as he performed with bare arms
and showed a "fearful muscle." The boat was a very large one accommodating
all-the party, but the oars-man refused to have any help, and progress was
slow. At last the other side of the river was reached in safety. They
walked through a ship-yard, and then, turned into a country road, sweet
with wild flowers, nodding on either side. Beyond this they came to a
piece of road, bordered with stiff, stout pines.

"There it is!" said Aunt Stanshy. "It is that block-house."

"What! the garrison-house?" inquired Sid. "Big as that? I thought they
were smaller."

"The real garrison-house is in the corner, this way, and makes one room on
the first floor. People that came to live in the garrison-house built
above it and built beyond it, turning the garrison-house into a single
room in a big, old-fashioned building. Mr. Parlin, may we take a look at
the garrison-house?"

"Sartin, sartin. Step in. I guess Amanda is there, washin' the baby; but
she's used to children, and wont mind you more than flies," said a stout,
broad-shouldered farmer, passing through the yard, a hoe resting on his
shoulder. "Let me go with you."

Amanda, who was washing the baby, and at the same time trying to keep in
decent order six other children, gave them a hearty welcome, and showed
that she did not mind them more than "flies."

"Au