“By Jove!” said Nelson. “It doesn’t look as though there was room for us anywhere.” And it didn’t, so closely were the boats packed together. Nelson stopped down the engine to half speed, and, with her bunting flapping in the breeze and her bright-work agleam, the _Vagabond_ nosed her way through the throng until she was opposite the Boston Yacht Club House. Here a space large enough to swing around in was discovered, and as Bob skillfully turned her toward it Dan held the anchor ready. Then there was a splash, and an excited protest from the exhaust as the engine was reversed; then silence, and the _Vagabond_ had come to anchor as neatly as you wish. After that the four gave themselves to a thorough enjoyment of the scene. There was plenty to look at. Near by, at one of the boat yards, the contestants were being measured with steel tape and rule. Others were coming in from their full-speed trials outside the harbor. Gasoline was being taken on, tenders lashed into place, and final arrangements generally were being made. At half-past twelve Tom cooked luncheon, and it was eaten, for the most part, on deck, that nothing of the busy scene around them need be lost sight of. After luncheon the boys got into the tender and rowed to the yacht club landing, leaving the boat there and spending over an hour in exploring the town. After that they returned to the launch and cruised about the harbor, turning and twisting in and out between the anchored craft. There were big steam yachts there, gasoline cruisers galore, dozens of launches, big sloops and little ones, yawls, catboats, and one schooner yacht. And where there was nothing else, tenders and dories flitted about. Once Tom caught Nelson excitedly by the arm and pointed across the harbor. “Lu-lu-look at that, Nel!” he stuttered. “Su-su-su-see that su-su-su-sloop coming in wi-wi-without any su-su-sails!” “Yes; what about it?” “Wh-wh-what about it? How the di-di-di-di-dickens does she du-du-do it?” “Oh, there’s a fellow at the stern, pushing,” said Bob gravely. “She’s an auxiliary, Tommy,” explained Nelson. “Wh-what’s that?” asked Tom suspiciously. “Why, she’s got a gasoline engine in her, just like we have, only hers is probably smaller.” “Really?” Tom marveled. “I didn’t know you could du-du-do that.” “Lots of them have auxiliaries nowadays. When the wind gives out, they just start their engines and—there you are.” “Say, that’s swell!” murmured Tom. “There goes the committee boat!” said Dan excitedly. “Let’s follow her.”