They can both go. Benny will help me through the week, all right, won't you, Benny?"

The youth thus addressed, who had just put in an appearance, his gun over his shoulder, a.s.sented, though not with much heartiness. He scowled at Harvey, and made no offer to be friendly.

"I suppose you want to go on the pond, too," said Mrs. Ellison, sympathetically.

Benny Ellison glanced sullenly at Harvey. "Not with those city chaps,"

he replied.

The "city chaps," sneeringly referred to by Benny Ellison, proved themselves good workmen, however. Unused to farm labour, as they were, their muscles were, however, far from being soft and easily tired. Tom and Bob, who excelled at athletics, surprised Jim Ellison with the amount of hay they could stack up into c.o.c.ks, or, again, the amount they could spread and scatter; and they were tireless in following him through all the broad field. Henry Burns and Little Tim were of the wiry sort that never seemed to weary; while Harvey made the pile of split wood grow in a way that made Mrs. Ellison's eyes stick out.

Then, at noon, when the big farm dinner-bell rang, there was a great table spread for them in the long dining-room, fairly creaking with an array of good things to eat; with plenty of rich milk and doughnuts and home-made gingerbread to finish up with. Little Tim's thin face seemed to be almost bulging when he had done; and he ate his sixth doughnut in gallant style.

He was nearly wild with delight, too, late that afternoon, when he got permission to fish the famous Ellison trout pool; and he came back in time for supper with a fine string of the fish, brilliantly spotted fellows, which Mrs. Ellison fried to a crisp for the crew of boy farmers when their day's work was over.

There came a little knock at the door when they were eating supper, and Bess Thornton, come for a pitcher of milk, looked in at the group of merry youngsters.

"My, what fun!" she exclaimed, and speaking half to herself added, "I wish I lived here too. Gran' said--"

"What's that? Why, I wish you did live here," exclaimed Mrs. Ellison, stepping back with the pitcher in her hands at the girl's words, and looking into her bright, eager face with eyes that suddenly moistened.

"I wish you did," she repeated. "Why don't you ever come in, when you come for the milk? Come in now and have some supper with the boys?"

But the girl started back, almost timidly.

"Oh, I can't," she said, "I didn't think what I was saying. Gran' says never to stay--to hurry back. She doesn't like to have me come for the milk, but she can't come, herself."

And, true to her instructions, she departed promptly, when she had received the pitcher, well filled--almost double what the money she had brought would usually buy.

"She's a queer little sprite," was Mrs. Ellison's comment, as she watched her go down the path; "but there's something fine and brave about her. Who wouldn't be queer, living all alone with old Granny Thornton?"

The two weeks' farming that John Ellison had reckoned on was through with in five days, thanks to the energy of the volunteer crew. They enjoyed it, too; the work in the bright fields; the jolly meals at the Ellison table; the nights in the big hay-barn, with blankets spread in the mow; the evening's swim in the stream just before supper.

And, on the sixth day, John and James Ellison went away on the wagon, with clear consciences and light hearts, and with Mrs. Ellison waving a farewell to them from the door of the shed. It was cramped quarters for them all in the wagon, with the camping equipment, jolting along the country roads; and they walked most of the hills. But the journey was a jubilant one, and they welcomed the first gleaming of Whitecap pond with whoops of delight.

Whitecap pond seemed to return the welcome, too; for it twinkled all over in the light of an afternoon sun, as they set up the two tents that were to house them; and it sent in its light ripples dancing merrily almost to the very door of the tents; a splash now and then in the still waters told them of fishing delights to come. The white, fine sand of its sh.o.r.es was soft as carpet to their feet, as they ran races along the sh.o.r.e, and took a swim by moonlight before they turned in for the night's rest.

They liked the wildness of the loon's weird hullo, coming in at the open flaps of the tents from afar; and the clumsy fluttering and flapping of great beetles against the canvas, attracted by the lantern light that shone through. The cawing of crows just above their heads awoke them early next morning.

They were out for perch and ba.s.s before the sun was high, and were in luck, for the fish were plenty; and the perch chowder that Bob, who was an old and experienced camper, made for the noon meal was a wonderful achievement, and reminded them of old times in Samoset Bay.

But there was one drawback--at least, for Henry Burns and Harvey, who were hankering for the grip of a tiller and the thrill of a boat under sail. There wasn't a sailboat to be hired on the pond. There were not many, and they were all engaged. Coombs, who owned the slip and the boats, said he hadn't done such a business in years. He could only let them have two rowboats. Yet they came into the use of one, two days later, through an adventure.

It was early in the afternoon, and Henry Burns and Harvey and Little Tim stood on the float at Coombs's landing, looking at a sailboat that lay at its berth alongside. It was not exactly a handsome craft; with too great length for its beam, and its lines drawn out so fine astern that it bade fair to be somewhat cranky. It had no cabin, and there was seating room for a large party--a design calculated more for profit than safety.

The boat was in evident poor condition, lacking paint, and its rigging frayed, a not uncommon condition with boats to let in small waters of this sort. Somewhat crude lettering on the stern spelled the name, _Flyaway_.

"Looks as though she might fly away with somebody, all right, if he didn't look out," remarked Harvey, grinning at his companions. "Wish we had her, though, for a week. We'd take a chance, eh, Henry?"

Henry Burns nodded. "Let's see 'em start off in her," he said.

They waited about, and presently there appeared on the landing the present claimant of the _Flyaway_. He was a big, bluff, hearty man, florid face, loud of voice, a free and easy manner, and he was dressed for the occasion in yachting clothes of unmistakable newness. He eyed the _Flyaway_ with an a.s.sumption of nautical wisdom and experience.

"That's a good-looking boat, Captain Coombs," he said, in tones that could be heard far away. "She's all right; just what I want. I like a boat with plenty of room for the ladies to be comfortable."

"Well, I reckon she's the best boat on Whitecap pond," responded the man, while his small eyes twinkled shrewdly. "Just humour her a bit, and I reckon she'll go where anything of her size will. She's seen some rough times on this pond."

The appearance of the _Flyaway_ seemed to bear out this statement.

"Sure you can handle her all right, are you, Mr. Bangs?" added Captain Coombs, eying his customer with a quick, sidelong glance.

"Well, I reckon," was the bluff reply.

Captain Coombs, possibly not all a.s.sured, gave an inquiring look toward a man who was busy cleaning a rowboat close by, and who seemed to be an interested party of some sort, probably a partner. The man drew his right eye down in an unmistakable wink, and glanced up at the sky. Then he nodded, shrugging his shoulders at the same time, as though he might have said, "There's no wind; we'll take a chance."

There was, indeed, scarcely a breath of wind blowing, and there was no present prospect of any.

Mr. Bangs's party began now to arrive: a somewhat fleshy, and withal nervous and agitated lady, who proved to be Mrs. Bangs; two young girls, an angular lady carrying a fat pug dog in her arms, and a small boy.

"Aha, we're all here," cried Mr. Bangs, joyfully. "Let's get aboard and be off. Splendid day for a sail, eh, Captain Coombs?"

"Couldn't be better," replied Coombs, dryly. "Are those oars in her, Dan?"

"Why, you don't suppose I'm going to row her, do you?" laughed Mr.

Bangs.

"We sometimes has to, when we doesn't want to," said Coombs laconically. "No fun staying out all night if the wind dies out."

"Oh, yes, of course," responded Mr. Bangs. "Get aboard, ladies."

"I don't believe you know how to sail a boat, Augustus," said Mrs.

Bangs, eying her husband doubtfully. "Are you sure you do?"

"Nonsense!" snorted Mr. Bangs. "Don't be getting nervous, now. Don't you know I was elected commodore of the Green Pond Fishing Club only two weeks ago?"

Mr. Bangs refrained from communicating the fact that the princ.i.p.al occupation of the members of the Green Pond Fishing Club was the mixing of certain refreshing liquids in tall gla.s.ses, and sipping them on the verandah of a clubhouse.

The party therefore embarked. Mrs. Bangs was not wholly at ease, however.

"Supposing there isn't any wind by and by, Augustus, and you have to row. Why don't you take somebody along, to help? We've got lots to eat."

This idea, at least, seemed to strike Mr. Bangs favourably. He glanced to where Henry Burns and his companions stood.

"h.e.l.lo," he called, "want to go out for a sail? Got room enough. Take you along."

The three boys stepped toward the boat.

"Not scared of the water, are you?" queried Mr. Bangs.

"Not unless it gets rough," replied Henry Burns, with a sly wink at Harvey.