It was a glorious day, when the power-boat Aviator, owned by Captain Andy, left the town wharf with six of the Owls aboard in charge of the assistant scoutmaster, Toiney Leduc, and with the absurd little rowboat that danced attendance upon the Aviator, and which was jocosely named the Pill, bobbing behind them on the tidal ripples at the end of a six-foot towrope. Spring was on the river to-day. Spring was in the clear call of the greater yellow-legs as it skimmed over the marshes, in the lightning dart of the kingfisher, in the wave of the tall black grass fringing each marshy bank, showered with diamonds by the advance and retreat of a very high tide tickled into laughter by the April breeze. And spring was in the scouts' hearts, focusing all Nature's joy-thrills, as they glided down the river. "_Houp-e-là!_ I'll t'ink heem prett' good day for go on reever, me," announced Assistant Scoutmaster Toiney, his black eyes dancing. And he presently woke the echoes, while they wound in and out between the feathery marshes, with a gay "Tra-la!" or "Rond'! Rond'! Rond'!" that seemed the very voice of Spring herself bursting into song. "Goodness! I can hardly wait for the end of August when our scoutmaster will get his vacation and we're to camp out on the Sugarloaf Dunes," said Leon Chase. "You can see the white dunes from here, Nix. It's a great old Sugarloaf, isn't it?" pointing across broad, pearly plains of water which at high tide spread out on either side of the central tidal channel, at the crystalline sand-pillar, guarding the mouth of the tidal river. "The other sand-hills look like a row of tall, snowy breakers at this distance. Whew! aren't they splendid--with that bright blue sky-line behind them? I expect we'll just have the 'time of our lives' when we camp out there!" came in blissful accents from the patrol leader. "Well! we're not going to land on the dunes to-day," said Captain Andy, who was standing up forward, steering the gasolene launch, his keen eyes scanning the plains of water from under his visored cap, in search of Spotty Seal's sleek dog-like head cleaving the ripples as he swam, with his strong hind-flippers propelling him along. "Whoo'! Whoo'! she threw the water a bit that time; didn't she, lads?" alluding to his motor-boat, as the April breeze plucked a crisp sheet of spray from the breast of the high tide, like a white leaf from a book, and laughingly threw it at the occupants of the launch. "But that's nothing!" went on the old skipper. "Bless ye, boys, I've been down this river in a rowboat when the seas would come tumbling in on me from the bay, each looking big as a house as it shoved its white comb along! 'Twould rear itself like a glassy roof over the boat and I'd think it meant 'day, day!' to me, but I'd crawl out somehow. An' I've lived to tell the tale.