For a time Mort was content with this enclosed space, and, whenever his uncle permitted him, would get the boat out, and go tacking up and down from end to end, feeling almost as proud of his newly-acquired skill as if he had been discoverer of the science of sailing. But of course it was not many days before he began to cast longing eyes beyond the line of swaying logs, and to feel that the thing he most desired in the world was to be allowed to sail the _Gleam_ across the lake and back. But when he hinted as much to his uncle he met with no encouragement. "No, no, Mort. You must be content with staying inside the boom; for, besides the chance of a squall, there is the danger of being caught in the current and carried into the rapids, which would soon make an end of both you and the boat." Now it happened that one morning both Mr. and Mrs. Turner had to go into the city, not to return until by the night train, and Mort was left entirely to his own resources. Of course he turned to the _Gleam_ for company, and as soon as the morning breeze came up, taking with him two other lads about his own age, he launched the boat, and went skimming from end to end of the bay. "This is good fun," said Ted Day, "but it would be better still outside the boom." "Oh yes!" cried Charlie Lister. "Do go outside; just a little bit, Mort." Mort shook his head, and tried to look very decided. His own heart was beating a lively response to the suggestions of his companions, but his answer was,— "No, Charlie; uncle does not allow me to go outside, you know." Once the idea had been mooted, however, it refused to go to rest again. The morning seemed a perfect one. There was a steady breeze from the north-west, just the direction best suited for a slant across the lake and back without having to tack at all. [Illustration: "MORT CRAWLED UPON THE STAGE AND FASTENED TO IT THE BOAT’S PAINTER."] Ted and Charlie begged and coaxed Mort to make one trip out, any way. Mr. Turner would never know anything about it, and they could easily be back before mid-day. Mort’s resolution, which had been rapidly weakening, finally gave way altogether. "All right," said he, allowing a sudden spirit of reckless ambition to submerge his compunctions at doing what he knew well enough was a mean betrayal of his uncle’s confidence in him. "We’ll just make one trip across. It does seem a pity to lose the chance this glorious morning." So out through the gap the _Gleam_ darted, as if glad of her freedom, and went flying over the blue water toward Blueberry Point. "My, but this is grand!" exclaimed Charlie rapturously, as the boat careened before the freshening breeze, so that the water lapped the lee-combing. "You are right; it is—eh, Mort?" echoed Ted, turning to Mort, who, holding the tiller in one hand and the end of the main sheet in the other, watched every move of the boat with feelings strangely divided between anxiety and proud delight.