“Why, you just hate the water—you know you do, James,” she exclaimed, as the squire was bustling about, getting out his greatcoat and preparing otherwise for his departure. “You said, a year ago, when you got back from that chase after those boys, that you’d had enough sailing to last you the rest of your life. And I don’t see why you don’t use your own boat. Here you’ve been talking about selling her for the last three years, because every time you go out in her you’re dreadfully sick. You’d better get some use out of that boat while you have it.” “Well! well!” responded Squire Brackett, somewhat impatiently. “This is a business trip. You can’t understand, because it’s business—important business. I guess I know my affairs, or I wouldn’t be the richest man on Grand Island. You just get that lunch ready, so I can start before the wind grows any stronger.” Mrs. Brackett complied, obediently, but wondering. “Morning! morning! Nice day, my lads,” said the squire with unwonted cordiality, some minutes later, as he appeared alongside the _Viking_, accompanied by John Hart and Ed Sanders, who were to constitute his crew. “Good morning, squire,” responded the yachtsmen, catching the painter of his boat and making it fast. “You’re going to have a glorious day to start off in.” “Think so?” queried the squire. “Not going to blow much, eh?” “Not this morning, by the looks,” replied Henry Burns; “just a nice little easy southerly that will take you up to the head of the island in fine style. Then all you’ve got to do is to beat down the western side, a mile or so, and you can stand right over to Mayville without touching a sheet—isn’t that so, Captain Hart?” John Hart, having the prevailing contempt of the born and bred fisherman for the amateur sailor, grunted a curt affirmative. “Well, take good care of the _Viking_,” said Harvey, as the squire’s crew cast loose from the mooring and stood away, leaving the boys in their tender astern. “We’ll do that,” replied the squire, assuringly. “And if we don’t, why, you’ve got it in black and white that I’ll make it good to you. A bargain’s a bargain. That’s my principle.” The _Viking_, under a gentle breeze, was soon out of the harbour, clear of the bluff, and was running up alongshore. Jack Harvey and Henry Burns rowed ashore, to the tent, where Tom and Bob were awaiting them. Something that Henry Burns and Harvey confided to them, as they sat together on the point, sent the campers off into roars of laughter. “Oh, but I’d give my shoes to see the squire when he finds that lobster-claw—if that’s what he’s after,” cried Tom, punching Henry Burns in an ecstasy of mirth. “Do you suppose that’s really what he’s hired her for, though?” “Don’t know,” replied Henry Burns, solemnly. “No; Squire Brackett wouldn’t do anything like that.” “Well, let’s go up to the store and see how we stand,” suggested Harvey. “Come on, fellows. You’re interested in this.”