his efforts to make the boys reason for themselves.

"I think your view is correct, Frank; though I am aware that many mature
minds would arrive at a different conclusion. As you say, the envy and
ill will which the contest may excite are the evils most to be dreaded."

"Then you approve our decision?"

"I do."

Frank felt as happy at that moment as though he had been a general of
division, and had won a great victory. The consciousness of having
arrived, unaided by mature minds, at a correct conclusion, was a triumph
in itself. He had exercised his thought, and it had borne him to a right
judgment. He was proud of his achievement, and hastened back to the boat
with the intelligence of the approval.

"What does he say?" asked half a dozen of the members.

"Let us get off first, and then we will talk about it," replied Frank.
"Bowman, let go the painter; cast off the stern lines, there. Now, back
her--steady."

"Tell us about it, Frank," said Charles Hardy, as the Zephyr glided
clear of the boat-house, out upon the deep waters of the lake.

"Ready--up!" continued Frank, and the eleven oars were poised
perpendicularly in the air.

"Down!"

The members had already begun to feel the inspiration of their favorite
amusement, and there appeared to have been nothing lost by the season of
inactivity which had passed away. They were as prompt and as perfect in
the drill as though they had practised it every day during the winter.
Although it was a moment of excitement, there was no undue haste; every
member seemed to be perfectly cool.

"Ready--pull!"

And the broad blades dipped in the water, and bent before the vigorous
arms of the youthful oarsmen.

"Starboard oars, cease rowing--back!" continued the coxswain, with
admirable dignity and self-possession; and the Zephyr, acted upon by
this maneuver, came about as though upon a pivot, without going either
backward or forward.

"Starboard oars, steady--pull!" and the rowers indicated by this command
caught the stroke, and the light bark shot ahead, with her wonted speed,
in the direction of Rippleton village.

"Zephyr, ahoy!" shouted some one from the shore.

"Tim Bunker--ain't it?" asked Charles.

"Yes."

"Humph! he needn't hail us like that. I was sure your father would never
permit him to join the club," continued Charles, who fancied that he
read in Frank's expression the disapproval of his father.

"You are in the wrong, Charley."

"Am I?"

"You a