“Then we’ll get the lines ready,” said George. “There’s lots of small cod at the foot of the island,—and we might take a run across to the islands below, where there’s lots of bigger ones. We’ll plan to be gone two days or a week, just as it happens, and put in plenty of flour and biscuit and some canned stuff, in case we can’t get fish.” “How happens it that Henry Burns can get off so easily?” asked Tom. “Oh, they’ve let up on him a good deal since the capture of Craigie,” answered George. “Now that the papers have said so much about him and the rest of us, and the people at the hotel have made so much of him, Mrs. Carlin has come to the conclusion that he isn’t so much of a helpless child as she thought he was. She lets him do pretty much as he likes now, and so Colonel Witham don’t bother him, either. He will be over by and by, and we’ll make sure he can go.” Henry Burns put in an appearance soon after, and the subject of the voyage was duly discussed in all its phases, and settled. The next forenoon found them all aboard the little yacht _Spray_, getting everything shipshape and storing away some provisions and water. “Looks as though we were going on a long voyage,” said young Joe, as his eyes rested fondly on several cans of lunch-tongue and two large mince pies which Mrs. Warren had generously provided, besides several tins of beef and a small keg of water. “Well, Joe,” said Arthur, “you know, having you with us to help eat up stuff is equivalent to going on a long voyage. And then, one never knows on a trip of this kind when he is going to get back.” Which was certainly true, if anything ever was. They made a great point aboard the _Spray_, these Warren boys, of having every rope and sail and cleat in perfect condition; no snarled ropes, no torn canvas, and no loose bolts nor cleats to give way in a strain; and they began now, as usual, to see that everything was in shipshape condition before they cast off from their moorings and headed out of the harbour. The little yacht was, therefore, as trim as any craft could be when they set sail on their voyage, with Mrs. Warren waving good-bye to them from the front piazza. “I never feel as free anywhere in the world as I do out aboard the _Spray_ on a trip like this,” said George Warren, stretching himself out comfortably on the house of the cabin, while Arthur held the tiller. “It’s the best fun there is down here, after all.” “Well, I don’t know, a canoe isn’t so bad,” said Bob. “You can’t take so many, to be sure, but when Tom and I get off on that and go down among the islands for a day or two, sleeping underneath it on the beaches at night and cooking on the shore as we go along, we feel pretty much like Crusoes ourselves, eh, Tom?” “Indeed we do,” answered Tom. “It’s the next best thing, surely, to sailing a boat.” “By the way, Tom,” asked Arthur, “where did you leave the canoe? Not where any one could get that, I hope.”