“I sold her this morning to the chap who brought her up for me. I’d have let her stay where she was if it hadn’t been for the few things on board of her. There was the can of mushrooms, you know. Brady and I are going to have those for supper when I get back!” He pushed off, the sail filled and the _Minerva_ began to drop down the river. Billy waved and called a last good-by. “Good-by,” answered Mr. Cole. “And good luck.” “Good-by,” called Roy and Dick and Chub. Only Harry was silent. But in a moment she was running along the deck toward the stern. “Mr. Noon!” she cried. “Mr. Noon! You’ve forgotten something!” There was an instant or two of silence and Harry thought he hadn’t heard. But he had, for presently his voice floated back to them across the water: Good-by and good night! And I hope as we part That I float from your sight, But not from your heart! “Bravo! Bravo!” cried the artist. And “Good-by!” called the others. But there was no answer from the darkness which had swallowed the last wan gleam of the _Minerva’s_ sail. They turned back to the sitting-room. “I didn’t want him to go,” said Harry rebelliously. “I trust you’ll say the same when I’m gone,” said Mr. Cole. “For I, too, must up sail and away soon.” Chub glanced at Roy and the latter nodded. “I guess it’s good-by all around,” said Chub. “Dick and I have got to go Saturday, and Roy thinks he might as well go too.” “Oh!” cried Harry. “I’m so glad!” “What!” they cried in one voice. “Oh, not because you’re going, exactly,” she explained, “but I’ve got to go too!” “You!” “Yes, Aunt Harriet’s back and she wants me to come to her the last of this week. Isn’t that horrid? I didn’t tell you before because I thought you’d be sorry.” “That’s the reason we didn’t tell,” laughed Roy. “So we’re all in the same boat.” “Yes,” said Mr. Cole, “and the boat’s name is the _Jolly Roger_. Where do you boys go to?” “New York,” they answered. “And you?” he asked of Harry. And when she had told him: “Well, that’s all right then. We sail Saturday morning.” “What do you mean?” cried Harry. “Why, that you must be my guests, Miss Emery, the whole lot and parcel of you. I’ll get you to New York Sunday morning, and that ought to be soon enough for any one. You’ve never sailed under the skull and cross-bones before, I’ll wager, and here’s your chance. So pack up your duds to-morrow and come aboard bright and early Saturday morning. And it’s, Hey for the pirate’s life!” “Oh, wouldn’t that be glorious!” cried Harry. “Do you suppose we could?” “Of course we can,” said Roy stoutly. “And we’ll do it. And we’re awfully much obliged, Mr. Cole. It’ll be fine!” “That’s settled then,” answered the artist. “To-morrow we’ll get in our stores and prepare to slip anchor.” “Bully!” cried Chub. “I’ve always wanted to be a pirate.” “So have I,” declared Harry quite seriously. “Oh, dear, what time is it, please, somebody?”