Produced by Chris Curnow, Carol Brown, and the Online

  _The Boat-Builder Series._

  I.

  ALL ADRIFT;
    OR,
  THE GOLD WING CLUB.

  II.

  SNUG HARBOR;
    OR,
  THE CHAMPLAIN MECHANICS.

  III.

  SQUARE AND COMPASS;
    OR,
  BUILDING THE HOUSE.

  IV.

  STEM TO STERN;
    OR,
  BUILDING THE BOAT.

  V.

  ALL TAUT;
    OR,
  RIGGING THE BOAT.

  VI.

  READY ABOUT;
    OR,
  SAILING THE BOAT.

[Illustration: THE COLLISION ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN.   Page 15.]

  OLIVER OPTIC’s

  BOAT-BUILDER
  SERIES

  SNUG HARBOR

  BOSTON,
  LEE AND SHEPARD
  PUBLISHERS.
]

_THE BOAT-BUILDER SERIES_

  SNUG HARBOR

  OR

  THE CHAMPLAIN MECHANICS

  BY

  OLIVER OPTIC

  AUTHOR OF “YOUNG AMERICA ABROAD,” “THE GREAT WESTERN SERIES,”
    “THE ARMY AND NAVY SERIES,” “THE WOODVILLE SERIES,” “THE
      STARRY-FLAG SERIES,” “THE BOAT-CLUB STORIES,” “THE
        ONWARD AND UPWARD SERIES,” “THE YACHT-CLUB
          SERIES,” “THE LAKE-SHORE SERIES,” “THE
            RIVERDALE STORIES,” “ALL ADRIFT,”
              ETC., ETC.

  _WITH ILLUSTRATIONS_

  BOSTON
  LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS
  NEW YORK
  CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM
  1884

  COPYRIGHT, 1883,
  BY WILLIAM T. ADAMS.

  _All rights reserved._

  TO MY YOUNG FRIEND
  HARRY CLINTON WHITE
  This Book
  IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED.

PREFACE.

“Snug-Harbor” is the second volume of “THE BOAT-BUILDER SERIES.”
Though it contains its fair proportion of story and adventure, there
is less of these elements than in its predecessor; though the writer
believes there is enough to keep up the interest of his young readers.
Dory Dornwood, the hero of the initial volume of the series, is again
presented, and about a quarter of a hundred others; though all of them
cannot be heroes. Like the former volume, the scene is laid on Lake
Champlain and its shores.

In accordance with the hint thrown out in the preface of the first
volume, the Beech-Hill Industrial School makes a beginning in this
book; and its pupils are gathered together in the schoolroom and the
workshop. The boys are instructed only in those branches of learning
which will be of the greatest practical utility to them as mechanics.
They are taken into the shop, and set to work as carpenters and
machinists; and some idea is given of their operations at the bench.
But in a work of this kind the author finds it hardly practicable to
describe in detail the work done by the Champlain mechanics; though he
has done so to some extent, as a suggestion rather than as a system of
instruction for boy-workmen. Without a vast number of drawings, the
tools and machinery used by the carpenter and machinist cannot be
described and explained so as to be of any great practical service.
The book is rather to create an interest in these trades than to
furnish a guide to young mechanics.

The author regrets that there is no American work of the kind
mentioned. Our English cousins have sent us over some excellent works
on the subject, which are very useful, though not fully adapted to the
needs of American boys. A new friend suggests that such a book be
prepared, and with his aid it may yet be done.

Captain Gildrock, the founder and patron of the Beech-Hill Industrial
School, has some radical ideas on the subject of education; and
probably many of the older readers of this book will disagree with
him: but the question he argues is worthy of attention and discussion,
however it may be finally settled.

Though the author is not a mechanic by trade, he has worked in his own
shop for many years. With the carpenter’s bench, the turning-lathe,
and the various implements for working in wood and metals, he finds
not only his needed exercise, but a degree of pleasure which makes it
all the more healthy and exhilarating; and he commends the work to his
young friends, both for their amusement and instruction.

DORCHESTER, MASS., Aug. 20, 1883.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.                                            PAGE

THE SLOOP THAT WENT TO THE BOTTOM                       13

CHAPTER II.

THE YOUNG MAN WITH A LONG NAME                          23

CHAPTER III.

MR. BOLINGBROKE MILLWEED TELLS HIS STORY                34

CHAPTER IV.

THE GOLDWING ANCHORS FOR THE NIGHT                      44

CHAPTER V.

A QUARREL ON BOARD OF THE JUNIPER                       54

CHAPTER VI.

THE IMPULSIVE ASSAULT OF THE ENGINEER                   65

CHAPTER VII.

BOLINGBROKE MILLWEED OUT OF A PLACE                     76

CHAPTER VIII.

PUPILS FOR THE BEECH-HILL INDUSTRIAL SCHOOL             87

CHAPTER IX.

THE VOLUNTEER HELMSMAN AND HIS MOVEMENTS                97

CHAPTER X.

THE BATTLE NEAR GARDEN ISLAND                          107

CHAPTER XI.

THE MASTER-CARPENTER DISPOSES OF HIS PRISONER          117

CHAPTER XII.

CAPTAIN GILDROCK’S FIRST LESSON IN NAVIGATION          128

CHAPTER XIII.

HANDLING A STEAMER IN A FOG                            138

CHAPTER XIV.

THE STRONG-ROOM AT THE BEECH-HILL INDUSTRIAL SCHOOL    148

CHAPTER XV.

SOMETHING ABOUT THE AFFAIRS OF THE MILLWEED FAMILY     159

CHAPTER XVI.

THE ORGANIZATION OF THE SHIP’S COMPANY                 170

CHAPTER XVII.

THE OFFICERS AND CREW OF THE SYLPH                     180

CHAPTER XVIII.

ANOTHER BATTLE AT PLATTSBURG                           190

CHAPTER XIX.

SOMETHING THAT HAPPENED ON SHORE                       201

CHAPTER XX.

THE NEW HEAD OF THE MILLWEED FAMILY                    212

CHAPTER XXI.

CAPTAIN GILDROCK ARGUES AGAINST HIGH-SCHOOLS           223

CHAPTER XXII.

THE CHAMPLAIN MECHANICS IN THE SHOP                    234

CHAPTER XXIII.

SOMETHING ABOUT TOOLS AND WORK                         244

CHAPTER XXIV.

WORK FOR THE HEAD AND THE HANDS                        255

CHAPTER XXV.

THE SECOND CLASS AT THE CARPENTER’S BENCH              266

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE END OF THE FIRST SCHOOL-DAY AT BEECH HILL          277

CHAPTER XXVII.

OSCAR CHESTER TAKES A LESSON IN BOATING                288

CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE UPSETTING OF THE MONKEY AND ITS LESSON             299

CHAPTER XXIX.

AN AFTERNOON IN THE MACHINE-SHOP                       310

CHAPTER XXX.

WHAT THE STUDENTS FOUND AT THOMPSON’S POINT            320

SNUG-HARBOR;

OR,

THE CHAMPLAIN MECHANICS.

CHAPTER I.

THE SLOOP THAT WENT TO THE BOTTOM.

“Starboard your helm! hard a-starboard!” shouted Dory Dornwood, as he
put the helm of the Goldwing to port in order to avoid a collision
with a steam-launch which lay dead ahead of the schooner.

“Keep off! you will sink me!” cried a young man in a sloop-boat, which
lay exactly in the course of the steam-launch.

“That’s just what I mean to do, if you don’t come about!” yelled the
man at the wheel of the steamer. “Why didn’t you stop when I called to
you?”

“Keep off, or you will be into me!” screamed the skipper of the sloop,
whose tones and manner indicated that he was very much terrified at
the situation.

And he had reason enough to be alarmed. It was plain, from his
management of his boat, that he was but an indifferent boatman; and
probably he did not know what to do in the emergency. Dory had noticed
the sloop coming up the lake with the steam-launch astern of her. The
latter had run ahead of the sloop, and had come about, it now
appeared, for the purpose of intercepting her.

When the skipper of the sloop realized the intention of the helmsman
of the steamer, he put his helm to port; but he was too late. The
sharp bow of the launch struck the frail craft amidships, and cut
through her as though she had been made of card-board.

The sloop filled instantly; and, a moment later, the young man in her
was struggling on the surface of the water. The boat was heavily
ballasted, and she went down like a lump of lead. It was soon clear to
Dory that the skipper could not swim, for he screamed as though the
end of all things had come.

Very likely it would have been the end of all things to him, if Dory
had not come about with the Goldwing, and stood over to the place
where the young man was vainly beating the water with his feet and
hands. With no great difficulty the skipper of the Goldwing, who was
an aquatic bird of the first water, pulled in the victim of the
catastrophe, in spite of the apparent efforts of the sufferer to
prevent him from doing so.

It was a very warm day towards the end of August, and a bath in the
cool waters of Lake Champlain was not the worst thing in the world to
take. The victim of the collision was more scared than hurt; and he
lay in the bottom of the yacht, puffing and blowing like a black bass
just stolen from his native element. He did not seem to be able to
speak, and Dory thought he was making a great fuss about a very small
affair.

The Goldwing had been headed across the lake when her skipper picked
up the victim; and, when he was safely on board, she continued on her
course. Dory had come out to cool off and take a sail, and it made no
difference to him where he went. The Beech-hill Industrial School had
not yet commenced operations, and he had nothing on earth to do the
greater part of the time.

His father had died a few weeks before; but he had found a snug harbor
at Beech Hill, where he resided with his mother and sister in the
elegant mansion of his uncle, Captain Royal Gildrock. The captain had
acquired an immense fortune by his operations in various parts of the
world; but as his wife was dead, and he had no children, it had
bothered him a good deal to determine what to do with all his money.

For many years there had been a feud between the head of the Dornwood
family and the owner of Beech Hill. Mr. Dornwood was an intemperate
man, and never more than half supported his family; though he had good
wages as a pilot on the lake. He had married the captain’s only sister
in spite of the opposition of all her friends, and especially of her
brother.

When the captain attempted to assist his sister in taking care of her
two children, her husband ordered him out of his house; for a great
many sharp words had passed between them. The wife was afraid of her
inebriate husband, and the attempts of the wealthy brother to help the
family had ended in the complete estrangement of the brother and
sister.

But as soon as Mrs. Dornwood was a widow, the captain hastened to her
assistance. Though Dory had made an earnest effort to support the
family, he had finally consented to reside with his mother at Beech
Hill. The pilot’s wife and children had always lived in the humblest
tenements, worn the meanest garments, and lived upon the plainest and
cheapest food.

Their lot at the new home was in tremendous contrast with their former
condition. Captain Gildrock was a plain man himself, and inclined to
regard the elegancies and luxuries of life with contempt. Though his
house was large, it was plainly furnished. If his table was not
garnished by the skill of a French cook, it was loaded with the best
that could be procured. To the Dornwoods every thing about the house
was luxurious.

Captain Gildrock was a thinking man, and he had ideas as well as
money. The two go well together, for ideas are often barren things
when one has not the means to carry them out. The worthy shipmaster
had studied society and human nature in many lands and climes. After
he retired from the sea and business generally, he had given his
attention wholly to the affairs in his own country. After he had done
so for a year or two, he was disposed to exclaim with the inspired
writer, “Vanity of vanities! All is vanity!”

Perhaps the standard of the captain was too high for this world, but
he felt that the American people were slipping away from first
principles. The nation had prospered by toil,--by inducing and
compelling the earth to yield her increase. Life had been something
more than a pleasure-excursion.

“When I was young,” he used to say, “the boys worked on the farm,
learned a trade, or went to sea. Now all the young men go into stores,
become counter-jumpers and man-milliners. Men get rich now by making
corners, betting on futures, and in speculation of all sorts. A big
thief is a gentleman: a little one is a criminal, after he is caught.
The boys and girls have been educated too much: they get above their
station in life, and then half starve themselves in order to be
genteel.”

The captain did not believe that the young people were educated too
much; only that they were trained in useless accomplishments, as he
regarded them. He did not think that the Genverres high-school, though
a very successful institution in the opinion of the school-board and
the citizens generally, was really a blessing to the town. He was
confident that he had discovered the philosopher’s stone in education,
though he found himself almost alone in his opinions.

“That school only spoils good farmers and mechanics, good seamen and
engineers. It gives them altogether too high notions of themselves. It
turns its pupils out on the world fit only to be genteel. The
education which the fathers of New England meant, when they planted
the schoolhouse alongside the church, was simply a common-school
education, without any high-school bosh on the tail-end of it. It’s
all well enough for rich people: it is a luxury they can afford, and
one they ought to pay for.”

Very likely the captain was too ultra in his views, but the question
he argued is one which must be settled before the lapse of many years.

The shipmaster was a practical man, and he did not talk without
acting. He believed in industrial education, not in the grammar-school,
but in place of the high-school. He had talked his views in
town-meeting, and printed them in the papers; but the people were not
inclined to adopt them.

A year before, he had taken a number of young men, and instructed them
in seamanship and the construction and management of the marine
engine. It was only a partial experiment, but he regarded it as an
eminently successful one. Most of his pupils had obtained situations
as engineers, and they were competent to fill them.

Captain Gildrock hoped to convince the people that his views were
correct, and he was ready to spend his money in demonstrating the
truth of what he preached. His class of the preceding year had been
rather too old when he took them in hand. He wanted boys from the
grammar-school, twelve or fourteen years old, before they had “bowed
down to the vanity of this world,” before they had learned to be
genteel, before they oiled their hair, and spent half an hour a day in
adjusting their neckties.

After the death of his brother-in-law, the pilot, he had captured his
nephew, after a hard struggle, and found he was the leading spirit of
the Goldwing Club, which had taken its name from Dory’s boat. These
boys were rather wild, but not bad. The captain succeeded in gathering
them all into the Beech-hill Industrial School, as he decided to call
the new institution. But the boys in Genverres were shy of the new
school, or their parents were shy for them. Not a few of the latter
regarded the retired shipmaster as a sort of harmless lunatic, liberal
with his money, but, like all reformers, an unsafe leader to follow.

Several boys from the high-school had made excellent records out in
the world, and each fond parent expected his own son would join the
galaxy of bright stars from its graduates. The captain could find only
three boys in the whole town who would join the new school, while
thirty went to the high-school. Possibly the requirement that the
pupils should reside at Beech Hill had some influence with the
parents.

It looked as though the school was to begin with eight pupils,--hardly
enough to man the Sylph, the captain’s elegant steam-yacht, the
largest and finest craft of the kind on the lake. All the boys in the
high-school would have liked to flirt about the lake in the
magnificent steamer; but to do it as seamen, firemen, engineers,
waiters, and cooks, was not wholly to the taste of the parents, if it
suited that of the boys.

Dory Dornwood was waiting for the school to begin. Great boxes of
tools, machinery, and other material for the workshops, had arrived at
Beech Hill; but the captain would not allow them to be opened until
the boys came. Besides, he was very busy in looking up pupils for the
new institution. He wanted twenty-four to begin with, and he was
searching for them in some of the interior towns where he was
acquainted.

Dory was very impatient for the school to begin, though he was very
happy in the midst of his new surroundings. He was a natural mechanic,
and tools of any kind suited him better than books. He was fond of
adventure, and wondered if he should ever have another time as lively
as that on the lake before he was captured by his uncle.

The young man he had picked up on the lake was about sixteen years
old, and was a stranger to him. His wet garments, though poor enough,
betrayed an effort at some style. After a while he recovered his
breath, and seemed to be in condition to give an account of himself.

CHAPTER II.

THE YOUNG MAN WITH A LONG NAME.

“You had a narrow squeak that time,” said Dory Dornwood, as soon as he
thought the victim of the disaster was in condition to do a little
talking. “It is lucky you didn’t get tangled up in the rigging of your
boat. She went to the bottom like a pound of carpet-tacks; and she
would have carried you down in a hurry if you hadn’t let go in short
metre.”

“I think I am remarkably fortunate in being among the living at this
moment,” replied the stranger, looking out over the stern of the
Goldwing. “That was the most atrocious thing a fellow ever did.”

“What was?” inquired Dory, who was not quite sure what the victim
meant by the remark, or whether he alluded to him or to the man in the
steam-launch.

“Why, running into me like that,” protested the passenger with no
little indignation in his tones.

“Let me see, ‘atrocious’ means something bad or wicked, don’t it?”
continued Dory.

“Something very bad and very wicked,” replied the stranger, with a
sickly smile, as he bestowed a patronizing glance upon his deliverer.

“I thought it was something of that sort. I suppose you don’t use such
big words as that before breakfast, do you?”

“Why not before breakfast as well as after? It is a common word, in
use every day in the week.”

“I didn’t know but it might put your jaws out of joint, and spoil your
appetite,” added Dory, as he glanced behind him to see what had become
of the steam-launch.

“My appetite is not so easily spoiled.”

“I suppose you came up from Burlington?” said Dory suggestively, as
though he considered an explanation on the part of the stranger to be
in order at the present time.

“I have just come from Burlington,” answered the victim, who appeared
to be disposed to say nothing more. “Do you suppose I can get that
boat again?”

“I should say that the chance of getting her again was not first-rate.
She went down where the water is about two hundred and fifty feet
deep; and it won’t be an easy thing to get hold of her,” replied Dory.
“If you had let him run into you between Diamond Island and Porter’s
Bay, where the water is not more than fifty or sixty feet deep, you
could have raised her without much difficulty. I don’t believe you
will ever see her again.”

“That’s bad,” mused the stranger. “She did not belong to me.”

“Then you are so much in. Perhaps, if she had belonged to you, you
would not have let the steam-launch run into you,” added Dory, who did
not quite like the way the victim was taking things; for he did not
seem to remember that he had been pulled out of the water by the
skipper of the Goldwing when he was in great danger of drowning.

“I did not let the steam-launch run into me. The man in her did it on
purpose. It was not an accident,” answered the stranger.

“I heard the fellow say that he meant to sink you; and, after he said
that, I thought you were a little out of your head to let him do it.”

“I didn’t let him do it.”

“I thought you did. If I had been at the tiller of that sloop, he
wouldn’t have done it.”

“Probably you are a better boatman than I am: I don’t pretend to know
much about the management of a yacht,” replied the victim meekly, as
he finished wiping the water from his face.

“Then you ought not to be sailing a boat in a fresh breeze, such as we
are having to-day. Why didn’t you put your helm down when you saw that
he was going to run into you?”

“Down where?” asked the victim with a vacant stare.

“Down cellar!” exclaimed Dory, disgusted at the ignorance of the
skipper of the sunken sloop. “No fellow ought to sail a boat if he
don’t know how to put the helm down.”

“A fellow can’t know every thing in the world.”

“Then, I suppose you know every thing else: but how to put the helm
down was the one thing you ought to have known, when that fellow was
kind enough to tell you beforehand that he meant to sink you.”

“Don’t be too rough on me, Mr.-- I don’t know your name. I am under
very great obligations to you for the signal service you have rendered
me, and I shall be glad to know you better.”

“My name is Theodore Dornwood,--Dory for short. What is yours?”

“Dory Dornwood!” exclaimed the victim, bestowing a look of
astonishment upon the modest skipper. “I have heard of you before, and
I am particularly glad to meet you.”

“I should think you might be, since I picked you up in deep water. But
you did not give me your name.”

“My name is Bolingbroke Millweed.”

“Is that all the name you have?” asked Dory, as he opened his eyes
till they were as big as a pair of saucers--very small saucers. “I
didn’t quite make it out, for it fairly snarled up my intellect.”

“Bolingbroke Millweed,” repeated the stranger with a slight frown upon
his brow. “It’s all the name I have.”

“It’s name enough, I should say.”

“It is hardly worth while to make fun of my name: I am not responsible
for it, and it is the best I have.”

“I beg your pardon, Mr.-- I don’t know what your name is now, for
really I did not take it in,” pleaded Dory, who was sometimes very
brusk in his manner, though he did not mean to hurt anybody’s
feelings. “Honestly, I did not understand you.”

“You cannot have read English history very much, or you would have
recognized the first name.”

“I never did read English history much: in fact, I never did much
reading of any kind.”

“My first name is Bolingbroke, and my surname is Millweed. The whole
of it is Bolingbroke Millweed,” added the victim, mollified as he
pitied the ignorance of his deliverer.

“All right, Mr. Millweed: I won’t tackle the first name until I get a
little better acquainted with it.”

“Viscount Henry St. John Bolingbroke, after whom I was named, was a
prime minister of England, and a fine scholar; though he was charged
with treason. But I did not pick out the name myself: it was my
mother’s choice, but I can’t say that I approve it. I suppose I shall
be called ‘Bolly’ as long as I live.”

“Of course your friends can’t handle such a jaw-breaker as Bolingbroke
every time they want to ask you which way the wind is. But never mind
the name, Mr. Millweed. I picked you up in deep water, and that’s how
you happen to be on board of the Goldwing.”

“The famous Goldwing! I am extremely happy to be on board of her;
though I wish our meeting had been under more favorable
circumstances,” added Mr. Bolingbroke Millweed, as he poured the water
out of one of his shoes.

“I only said that you were on board of the Goldwing; and the question
now is, what shall I do with you, for I see the steam-launch is headed
this way. I should judge from his actions that the man at the wheel of
her wants to see you.”

“He does want to see me! I am the victim of a conspiracy!” exclaimed
Mr. Millweed in tragic tones, as he sprang to his feet.

“The victim of a conspiracy? Is that what you call the sinking of a
sloop?”

“I feel that the brave and noble Dory Dornwood will be my friend,
and"--

“Clap a stopper on your jaw-tackle!” interposed the skipper of the
Goldwing, borrowing an expression his uncle had quoted in his
presence. “If you mean to blarney me, I shall be your enemy; and I
will put you ashore on Diamond Island, without benefit of clergy.”

“Excuse me: I did not mean to offend you, Mr. Dornwood,”--

“Avast heaving! Don’t ‘mister’ me. Call me Dory; but don’t call me too
late for dinner,” laughed the skipper.

“Since I know who you are, I shall tell you my story, and explain how
I happened to be sailing the sloop, and”--

“I know how you were sailing her, and you sailed her to the bottom.
Tell me the rest of it.”

“I will tell you why that man ran into me, and why he was chasing me
up the lake.”

“That’s the point; but make the yarn a short one, or the steam-launch
will be upon us before you get through with it. You have the floor,
Mr. Millweed,” replied Dory, as he glanced at the approaching steamer.

“But I don’t want to be caught by that man! It might be fatal to me.
He is a conspirator; and he is seeking to destroy my good name,”
pleaded Mr. Millweed earnestly.

“I don’t understand the matter. Is the man an officer?”

“Not at all: he is chief clerk in a store in Burlington, and the
steam-launch belongs to his employer. But he is rapidly overtaking
us,” said the passenger.

“Why should he be after you? What have you been doing that is wrong?”
asked Dory, who had no idea of enlisting on the wrong side in
anybody’s cause.

“I have done nothing wrong. I will tell you all about the matter, only
don’t let that man get hold of me. Upon my sacred honor, I am guilty
of no crime,” continued Bolingbroke Millweed.

Dory was greatly tempted. He had a reputation on Lake Champlain, won
but a short time before he made his snug harbor at Beech Hill. On two
occasions he had successfully kept out of the way of a steamer. He had
been pursued all one day by the swiftest steam-yacht on the lake, but
by his “tactics” he had kept out of her reach.

If the young man had been guilty of a crime, he would do nothing for
him. His passenger spoke fairly; but, if he had been doing wrong, he
would not scruple to lie about it. Dory decided to keep out of the way
of the steam-launch long enough to hear Bolingbroke’s story. It was an
exciting game to dodge a steamer, and he desired to play it. The water
in the lake had been very low all summer, and no heavy rains had yet
raised it. The low-water soundings on the chart needed no corrections.

The Goldwing was a schooner, and Dory had been sailing under jib and
mainsail only. This was about all the sail she could comfortably
carry. The skipper looked over the situation very carefully. The yacht
was on the wind, headed across the lake. After the sinking of the
sloop, the two men in the steamer had a long talk before they started
her screw again; and she was all of half a mile astern of the
Goldwing.

Coming up into the wind, Dory set the mainsail; and then it was a
staggering wind for the Goldwing. By a little manœuvring the skipper
brought Diamond Island between his own craft and the steam-launch.

The pursuer had gained on him while he was setting the foresail.
Starting his sheets, he stood off to the south-west until the steamer
was abreast of the island. She could not head him off; and then he
came about again, steering her due south.

The skipper was ready for the explanation, and the passenger proceeded
to relate it.

CHAPTER III.

MR. BOLINGBROKE MILLWEED TELLS HIS STORY.

The wind was blowing very fresh; and the Goldwing staggered wildly, as
she went ahead nearly before it. Mr. Bolingbroke Millweed appeared to
be a little nervous, for the schooner carried twice as much sail in
proportion to her size as the sloop in which he had come from
Burlington.

“She acts just as though she was going to tip over,” said he, clinging
to the wash-board.

“Tip over! She don’t do that sort of thing. She has got over all her
bad habits,” replied the skipper. “But I should like to have you spin
your yarn before we get up to Field’s Bay, so that I may know what to
do with you.”

“I have been looking for a place in a store for a year, for I was
graduated at the high-school last summer,” Mr. Millweed began. “I know
a young man by the name of Hackett Tungwood, who is in a store in
Burlington. He wanted a vacation of a week, and he engaged me to take
his place while he was absent.”

“Did his boss agree to it?” asked Dory.

“His employer did agree to it, and treated me very kindly when I went
to the store at seven o’clock this morning. About nine o’clock Mr.
Lingerwell, who is Hack’s brother-in-law, and the head man in the
store, sent me to the safe for the cash-book.”

“I got the book, and gave it to him. Just then Mr. Longbrook, the
proprietor, came in, and asked Mr. Lingerwell for the four hundred and
fifty dollars which had been put in the safe the night before. I saw
the head man go to the safe, and then both he and his employer seemed
to be in great consternation.”

“Short words, or you never will finish,” interposed Dory.

“I did not know what the matter was, but Mr. Lingerwell used a great
many exclamations.”

“What did he do with them?”

“He uttered them, of course: what else could he do with them? If you
continue to interrupt with irrelevant questions, it will take me a
long time to tell the story,” replied Mr. Millweed impatiently. “I was
putting up goods near the desk, or I should not have noticed what was
going on. In a little while I heard enough to satisfy me that the four
hundred and fifty dollars was missing.

“Mr. Longbrook called me to the desk, and asked if I had been to the
safe. I told him I had taken the cash-book from the safe, as I had
been told to do. He looked me sharply in the eye. Mr. Lingerwell said
no one else had been to the safe since he opened it in the morning.

“I was sent back to my work, and the two men kept on talking about the
money. It was clear enough to me that I was suspected of taking it,
and I felt as though I was already in the State prison. I heard Mr.
Lingerwell say he was sure I had taken the money, for it was all right
when he opened the safe. I never was so terrified before in my life.
Hack Tungwell had told me he did not expect to keep his place much
longer: he might not return at all. If I pleased his employer, I might
get the situation.

“What I heard seemed to be the knell of all my hopes. I had done my
best to get a place, for my father sadly needs what little I could
earn. Then the two men talked in low tones for a while. Presently
Mr. Longbrook went out of the store. I was sure he had gone for an
officer to arrest me.

“The idea of being arrested and marched through the streets by a
constable was about as bad to me as being shot through the head. When
Mr. Lingerwell went to the back part of the store, I rushed out at the
front door.”

“You left!” exclaimed Dory with something like indignation in his
tones.

“I did: I was wholly unwilling to be dragged through the streets by an
officer.”

“That was worse than sinking the sloop in two hundred and fifty feet
of water. Do I understand you to say that you did not take the money
from the safe?” demanded Dory.

“Do I look like a thief?” asked Mr. Millweed, rising from his seat in
the standing-room in deep disgust; though he was immediately thrown
back again by the motion of the yacht.

“Never mind how you look: you acted just like a thief,” retorted Dory
warmly. “You don’t say yet that you didn’t take the money when you
went to the safe for the book.”

“I do say now, most emphatically, that I did not take the money when
I went to the safe for the cash-book, or at any other time. I didn’t
even know there was any money in the safe,” protested Mr. Millweed
very earnestly.

“That’s coming to the point; but you have done the best you could to
convince your employer and his head man that you did take it. I advise
you to go straight back to Burlington, and then straight to the store,
and face the music. If anybody says I stole any money, I want to see
the man that says so.”

“That would all be very well under ordinary circumstances,” pleaded
Mr. Millweed.

“It’s all very well under any circumstances.”

“I had a theory of my own.”

“I don’t care any thing about your theory: I say the way is to face
the music. If you had let them search you before you went out of the
store, you would have been all right. They would not have found the
money upon you, and you had had no chance to get rid of it. Now they
will say you buried it somewhere on the shore of the lake.”

“But I tell you I have a theory. I believe Tim Lingerwell took the
money himself. How easy it would have been for him to slip the wallet,
or the package, whatever it was, into my pocket when I was not
looking.”

“That thing has been done in a hundred and fifty novels and stories,
but it isn’t done every day in Burlington. If Tim Lingerwell wanted
the money bad enough to steal it, he wouldn’t put it into your
pocket.”

“He isn’t any too good to do such a thing. He and Hack belong in
Genverres; and people here wouldn’t trust either of them with a pewter
quarter,” argued Mr. Millweed.

“Perhaps you are right: I don’t know. You have given yourself away,
and made it look bad for you. If Tim Lingerwell took the money, what
did he do with it?”

“That’s more than I know. He has the care of the safe, and he and I
were the only persons who had been near it when Mr. Longbrook came in
for the money. I know I did not take it; and if I didn’t, he did.
That’s the whole of it.”

Dory believed his passenger had been a fool to run away; but, without
knowing why, he could not help believing that he was telling the truth.

“Where did you get the sloop in which you came up the lake?” he asked.
“You said she did not belong to you.”

“She belongs to Sim Green, a friend of mine, who lives next door to
me. He was going down to Burlington to stay a few days with his uncle.
Money is a scarce article in our family, and I had none to pay my fare
by railroad. I was going to walk; but, at Sim’s invitation, I went
down in his sloop. When I left the store, I went down to the boat, and
got into it. Then I thought I would go home, and tell my father and
mother what had happened.”

“Then you took the boat without leave?”

“I knew Sim would not care, and he won’t come home before Saturday. I
meant to send it back before that time,” Mr. Millweed explained.

“That may be all right; but Sim won’t thank you for taking it, when he
learns that she has gone down in two hundred and fifty feet of water.
Now, what is to be done?” asked Dory. “Will you go back to Burlington,
and face the music?”

“I don’t know what to do,” replied Mr. Millweed, evidently overwhelmed
with perplexity.

“I have told you what I would do if I were in your place,” added Dory.

“Then I will go back; but I don’t want to be dragged into Burlington
by Tim Lingerwell,” replied Mr. Millweed, as he glanced at the
steam-launch.

“All right, if you will only go back. What makes you think Tim
Lingerwell took the money?” asked Dory.

“The more I think of it, the more certain I feel that he took the
money. Why should he call me from my work to get the cash-book out of
the safe for him, when he was within six feet of it? Why should he
send me to the safe at all, and leave it unlocked, when he knew there
was so much money in it? Why didn’t he search me before Mr. Longbrook
went out? He managed it all to suit himself,” replied the passenger
with energy.

Dory thought his passenger was right. If the head man in the store
believed the substitute clerk had taken the money from the safe, he
could not see why he had been permitted to leave the store.

“Did they chase you in the street after you left the store?” asked
Dory, who was rather inclined to do a little detective business on his
own account, as he had had a taste of it during the summer.

“No one chased me. I did not see any one from the store. I was off
Split Rock when I first saw the launch, but I didn’t know Tim was in
her till just before he ran into the sloop. The moment I heard his
voice, I understood it all; but I did not know enough about a boat to
get out of the way.”

“I don’t believe you did, or you would not have sunk that sloop. The
wonder is, that you got as far as you did without capsizing her.”

“I hoisted the sail, and let her go. The wind was fair, and all I had
to do was to keep her away from the shore. She frightened me out of my
wits two or three times when the waves were high.”

“With this breeze we can run away from that steam-launch. If you like,
I will take you back to Burlington, after I have told my mother where
I am going.”

“I should like that very much,” replied Mr. Millweed.

“But we can’t run away from the steamer beating down the lake, and we
must dodge her in some way,” suggested Dory.

“I will do just as you say, Dory; and I begin to see what an idiot I
was to run away, though I still think Tim Lingerwell had some plan to
trip me up,” added the passenger.

Dory had already decided upon his plan of operations. The steamer was
on the wrong side of him: he wished he was below instead of above her;
for he wanted to run into Beaver River, which he could not do on the
open lake without encountering his pursuer.

His southerly course had by this time brought him near the east shore
of the lake. The steam-launch was all of half a mile distant. From the
mouth of the river a shoal extends a mile out into the lake, and over
a mile to the southward. Dory struck this shallow water at its
southern extremity.

The deepest water is near the shore, and the skipper followed it. The
launch continued on her former course for a while, and then stopped
her screw. Tim Lingerwell at the wheel was perplexed; but Dory found
his way across the shoal, and entered the river. Then the launch went
around the shoal, and continued the chase.

CHAPTER IV.

THE GOLDWING ANCHORS FOR THE NIGHT.

As soon as the Goldwing was fairly in the river, Dory found the wind
was light compared with what it had been on the open lake. But the
skipper had made up his mind that his passenger should not be taken
out of the boat: his plan for another movement was ready.

“She is catching us, and I might as well make up my mind to go back to
Burlington in the Juniper;” for that was the name of the steam-launch.
“I believe Tim Lingerwell has that money in his pocket at this minute;
for he probably has had no chance to get rid of it,” said Mr. Millweed
in utter despondency.

“You can make up your mind any way you please; but, if you don’t want
to go with him, you needn’t. If you will do as I say, I will land you
in Burlington to-night,” replied Dory, as the yacht passed the narrow
neck of land between the river and Porter’s Bay.

“I will do just as you tell me, Dory; for I know you are capable of
doing big things.”

“It won’t be a very big thing, but we can dodge the Juniper a great
deal easier than you can go to bed without your supper. I shall make a
landing at the cross-cut. You will go on shore, and follow the path
until you get to the other side of the woods. Then take the other path
to the river, and strike it half a mile above the landing.”

“What is all that for?” asked Mr. Millweed, perplexed by the
instructions.

“You do just as I tell you, and ask no questions. I will be
responsible for the result.”

“All right: I will do so. But I might as well go home, for I shall be
half-way there when I get to the other side of the woods.”

“If you go home, Tim Lingerwell will find you there. He will think you
have gone home; and that is just what I want him to think,” said Dory,
as he made the landing at the cross-cut, which was a short way to
reach the northern outskirts of the town.

“I will do just what you say, Dory.”

“Very well; but don’t be in a hurry. Wait till the Juniper gets a
little nearer, so that Tim can see you. Then start off as though you
meant business.”

They had not long to wait, for the steam-launch had been gaining
rapidly on the yacht since they entered the river. When she was near
enough to enable those on board of her to see just what was done, Mr.
Millweed leaped ashore, and ran with all his might.

“Stop him! Don’t let him go!” shouted the helmsman of the Juniper. “He
is a thief! He has been stealing a large sum of money!”

“I am not a constable,” answered Dory quietly. “I pulled him out of
deep water, and brought him ashore. If you want him, you can take
him.”

Tim Lingerwell rang his bell, and the engine stopped. He ran her up to
the shore, carrying her bow line to a post, as he leaped upon the
bank.

“What did you let him go for?” demanded Tim, turning to Dory, who had
also landed.

“It’s none of my business where he goes,” replied Dory. “This is a
free country.”

“But I told you he had been stealing. Come, Greeze, we must catch him.
He lives up this way; and we shall find him at home, if we don’t catch
him before he gets there.”

The engineer abandoned his machine, and the two men started off on a
run in the direction taken by the fugitive. But Mr. Millweed had a
good start, and the wood concealed him from his pursuers.

As soon as they were out of sight, Dory took a survey of the Juniper.
He had often seen her before, though he had never been on board of
her; and he improved the present opportunity to do so. He made a more
careful examination of her than a mere inspection seemed to require.
Like Mr. Millweed, he had a theory. He looked into all the lockers,
and even examined the space under the ceiling as far as he could get
at it.

Just as he was beginning to think his theory was entirely at fault, he
drew out a large pocket-book, which seemed to be well filled with
something. He opened it, and found that it contained a large pile of
bank-bills. Mr. Millweed’s theory was correct: Tim Lingerwell had had
no opportunity to dispose of the money, and he had put it where he
supposed no mortal could possibly find it.

Mr. Bolingbroke Millweed’s honesty was demonstrated. Dory had been
right in trusting him. It was a great satisfaction to him to find that
he had judged his passenger correctly. But Tim Lingerwell was quite
as big a fool as Mr. Millweed; and the same might be truly said of any
person who commits a robbery.

Dory took the money from the pocket-book, and put it into his
hip-pocket. He put a portion of a newspaper into the place from which
he had taken the bills, so as to make the pocket-book look as it had
before its valuable contents had been removed. Then he placed it under
the ceiling precisely as he had found it. His business on board of the
Juniper was finished, and he hastened to get the Goldwing under way
again.

Mr. Millweed had faithfully followed his instructions, and was on the
bank of the river above the woods. The passenger leaped on board when
the bow touched the shore.

“Did you see them, Dory?” asked Mr. Millweed, greatly excited.

“Of course I saw them. They landed where you did, and started off at a
dead run after you. Lingerwell said you had gone home; and they expect
to find you there,” replied Dory, as he headed the yacht on her course
up the river again.

“They won’t find me there,” added the passenger, chuckling at the
success of Dory’s plan. “But won’t they find us at Beech Hill if you
go there?”

“It will be two hours before they get back to the Juniper again, and
then they won’t know where to look for you. We are all right.”

Dory did not go into Beech-Hill Creek, which led to the lake in the
rear of the mansion of Captain Gildrock, but continued on his course
till he came to the river-road, on which the estate was located. At
this point he made a landing; and, leaving his charge in the boat, he
hastened to the house.

Dory found his mother and sister in the garden. As briefly as he
could, he told the story of his passenger, and announced his intention
of going to Burlington at once. As he did so, they walked to the
house, where Mrs. Dornwood put up a heavy lunch for her son. The
skipper showed the money he had taken from the Juniper, to prove his
statement; but this was a secret she was not to reveal to any person
at present.

Mrs. Dornwood volunteered to call upon the Millweeds, and inform them
of the true state of the case; for the visit of Tim Lingerwell was
likely to give them much trouble and anxiety before the whole truth
came out.

With the large lunch-basket and his overcoat, Dory hastened back to
the place where he had left the Goldwing. He found his passenger in a
very nervous and troubled frame of mind, fearful that Tim Lingerwell
might pounce upon him while he was waiting for the skipper. He
re-assured him by his confident words, and they embarked without
losing a moment.

“It is a little more than an hour since we left the steamer; and
Lingerwell may see us as we go down the river, though I don’t think he
has got back yet,” said Dory, when the yacht was under way.

“Why not wait here until after the Juniper has started?” suggested Mr.
Millweed.

“We should have to wait all night, I think; for I don’t believe
Lingerwell will go back without you,” replied Dory.

“But you have to sail back to Burlington with the wind against you:
the Juniper will be sure to catch us,” added Mr. Millweed anxiously.

“I am willing to take the chances; and, whatever happens to us, I will
promise that you shall be all right when you have faced the music,”
answered Dory, keeping a sharp lookout ahead for the steam-launch.

“All right: you have carried me through so far, and I will trust you
to the end. You saved my life; and I shall never cease to be grateful
to you, even if you do nothing more for me,” said the passenger with
more feeling than he had before exhibited.

As the yacht approached the place where the fugitive had landed, Dory
saw that the Juniper was still there. As the skipper was obliged to
beat a portion of the distance down the river, he made a tack within
twenty feet of her.

“Hold on, there!” shouted a voice from her; but it was not that of
Lingerwell.

At the same moment a man rose from the bottom of the launch. He proved
to be Greeze, the engineer. The pilot had evidently sent him back to
attend to the boat.

“We will see you in Burlington,” replied Dory, with abundant good
nature, when he was satisfied that Lingerwell was not on board of her.

“We want that thief!” yelled Greeze.

“You will take him down to Burlington with you when you go.”

Doubtless this answer perplexed the engineer; but the yacht passed out
of hailing-distance, and no explanation was practicable. After going
around the bend of the river, the Goldwing could lay her course for
the lake, close-hauled.

“The engineer has left the boat again,” said Mr. Millweed, just before
the yacht reached the bend. “Where do you suppose he is going now?”

“He is going to find Lingerwell, and tell him that you have gone down
the river. But he may not find him for two hours. Of course he is
moving about looking for you. Very likely he will go to my uncle’s
house to inquire for me, though he will not be any the wiser for his
visit. But I feel as though it was about supper-time,” continued Dory,
as he consulted the watch his uncle had given him on his last
birthday. “It is quarter-past six.”

“I have the same sort of a feeling; for I had no dinner to-day, and
took my breakfast at six this morning,” added Mr. Millweed.

“Why didn’t you say so before? You might have been working your jaws
from the time we left the shore-road,” said Dory, as he handed the
lunch-basket to his passenger. “Help yourself, and I will feed as the
helm gives me time.”

Mr. Millweed showed that he had an appetite by the time the Goldwing
reached the lake. As the sun went down, the wind died out, though not
till the schooner had passed Split Rock.

“I am afraid we shall not get to Burlington to-night; for we can’t go
without wind,” said Dory, when the breeze had nearly deserted them.

“Then I am sure to be caught,” added the passenger.

“Not at all: don’t give it up.”

Dory kept the boat moving a mile farther; and then came to anchor
inside of Cedar Island, where the masts of the Goldwing could not be
seen from the lake. At the skipper’s suggestion, the passenger turned
in, and went to sleep.

CHAPTER V.

A QUARREL ON BOARD OF THE JUNIPER.

Dory had put on his overcoat, and gone to sleep on the cushions of the
standing-room. The jib had been lowered, but the fore and main sails
were still set. The skipper had passed the main-sheet around his arm,
so that any motion of the sail would wake him. This signal disturbed
him about eleven by jerking him off the seat upon the floor of the
standing-room.

The wind had begun to come in fresh between Garden Island and
Thompson’s Point, indicating that its direction was from the
south-west. It was fair for Burlington; but, before he got up the
anchor, he listened attentively for any sounds that might come from
the open lake, for he had a suspicion that he heard something.

A moment later he was confident that he heard the puff of steam from
the escape-pipe of a steamer. It was cloudy, and the night was dark.
He looked out between the islands and the mainland, but he could see
nothing. The sounds came nearer for a time: then they ceased for a few
minutes, and were followed by a splash in the water. He was satisfied
that a steamer had anchored at no great distance from Cedar Island.

The skipper’s nap had refreshed him, and he was not inclined to sleep
while there was wind enough to move the schooner. Very likely the
steamer which had anchored was the Juniper. Probably Tim Lingerwell
realized that the Goldwing could not sail without wind; and he was
afraid he might pass her if he continued on his course. Doubtless he
suspected that she had put in behind some island.

Dory got up the anchor, hoisted the jib, and, with the wind on the
beam, stood off to the north-west. He had no doubt the steamer he had
heard was the Juniper. The noise of her screw, and the puff of her
escape-pipe, indicated that she was a very small craft. He concluded
that Tim Lingerwell would keep a sharp lookout for him, and he
expected to be chased as soon as he passed the island.

When he could see between the two islands, he discovered a light,
which marked the position of the Juniper. The Goldwing passed within a
quarter of a mile of her; but the wind was coming quite fresh from the
south-west, and Dory thought that he could take care of himself and
his sleeping passenger.

Though it was very dark, the skipper had not deemed it prudent to
light one of his lanterns; for it would be sure to betray his
presence. As the yacht continued silently on her course, Dory heard
the sound of voices in the direction of Garden Island, behind which he
could see the Juniper’s light.

It was evident that the pursuers were not asleep. Dory listened with
all his might, for he was deeply interested in what was taking place
on board of the steam-launch. It seemed to him that the captain and
engineer were talking a great deal louder than the occasion required.
As they were in the same craft, it was hardly necessary for them to
yell at each other. After he had listened a while, Dory thought the
tones of the speakers were angry and even violent.

The skipper brought the Goldwing up into the wind, for a short
distance farther would carry the yacht out of sight of the Juniper. He
listened again; and the tones of the crew of the steam-launch were
more violent than before. What was the matter? There was clearly a
quarrel in progress between the captain and the engineer. As the
voices became louder and more forcible, the disputants were plainly
approaching a crisis in the quarrel.

“Help! Help! Murder!” yelled one of the angry men; and Dory was
confident it was the voice of the engineer.

The skipper of the Goldwing did not wait to hear any more, or to
speculate upon the cause of the difficulty on board of the Juniper.
Hauling in his sheets, he filled away on the starboard tack. The
schooner could just lay her course for the steamer’s light. It looked
a little like a stormy time ahead, and Dory decided to call his
passenger.

Leaving the helm for a moment, he went to the cabin forward; and a
sharp word roused Mr. Millweed from his slumbers. Hastening back to
the helm, he seized the tiller before the schooner had time to
broach-to. At that moment the cry from the steamer was repeated,
though it was fainter than before.

“What’s the matter, Dory?” asked Mr. Millweed, as he rushed into the
standing-room. “Didn’t I hear a yell just now?”

“If you are not deaf, you did,” replied Dory, still gazing at the
steamer’s light. “There is a row on board of the Juniper. The engineer
is shouting for help.”

“What does it all mean?” inquired the passenger anxiously.

“I don’t know what it means, but I am going up there to find out.”

“Do you think it is safe to go near them?” inquired Mr. Millweed.

“I don’t know whether it is safe or not; but men don’t yell murder in
the middle of the night without some good reason.”

“What can be the meaning of it?” asked the fugitive, evidently
believing that the skipper ought to be able to tell him all about it.

“You can guess as well as I can, Bolly,” answered Dory. “Tim and the
engineer are the only persons on board of the Juniper, and the quarrel
must be between them. That’s all I know about it. But, if we are going
to take a hand in this fight, we had better have some sort of weapons.”

“You don’t mean to take a hand in any fight, do you, Dory?” asked
Bolingbroke, not a little alarmed at the announcement.

“Not if I can help it; but I don’t mean to let Lingerwell kill his
companion, without putting a finger in the pie. Go to the cabin, and
bring out the long tiller. You will find it under the berth you slept
in.”

“But I don’t like the idea of getting into a fight with such a fellow
as Tim Lingerwell,” protested Bolingbroke, without heeding the
request.

“I don’t care whether you like it or not. It is plain enough that we
ought to do something when a man is trying to kill another. Bring out
the tiller!”

Mr. Millweed obeyed the order this time. Dory took the tiller, and
placed it at his side, where it would be ready for use if the occasion
should require.

“There is a round stick by the centre-board casing. You had better
have that in your hand, for you may want to defend yourself before we
get through with this business. I don’t know what the quarrel is
about; but we are likely to find out very soon,” added Dory.

“Help! Help! Murder!”

“There it is again!” exclaimed the skipper, not a little excited by
this time.

“It’s awful, isn’t it, Dory?” added Bolingbroke, his teeth chattering
with terror at the terrible sounds that were borne over the dark
waters.

“Juniper, ahoy!” screamed Dory, forming a speaking-trumpet with his
two hands. “What’s the matter?”

No reply came back in answer to the question. Just then Dory began to
wonder whether or not these cries were not a trick to call the
Goldwing out from her hiding-place. The wind had just breezed up; and
Tim Lingerwell might fear that the fugitive would escape him, after
all his labor and pains to capture him.

He thought enough of the idea to mention it to his passenger.
Bolingbroke was ready to adopt the opinion that it was a trick: he was
ready to adopt any thing rather than go near the Juniper, whether
there was a fight or not on board of her.

“Of course it is a ruse to get you out of your hiding-place,” said he
with energy. “I thought of that myself.”

“If the wind hadn’t just breezed up, I should not have thought of
such a thing,” added Dory, still musing upon the point; for he did not
like the idea of having his passenger taken from the Goldwing by a
trick.

On the other hand, it was possible, perhaps probable, that the two men
had fallen out, and come to blows. Dory knew that Lingerwell was a bad
man, and it is always easy for such men to make trouble. Strange as it
may seem, the skipper did not connect the large sum of money in his
hip-pocket with the quarrel on board of the Juniper. He did not even
think of the bills he had taken from the steam-launch in the absence
of her crew.

“I wouldn’t go near her, Dory,” argued Bolingbroke. “I hope you won’t
step into the trap Tim has set for you to fall into.”

“I am not afraid of Tim Lingerwell, and I am going over there to see
if any thing is the matter. We will be a little cautious about
approaching the steamer.”

“But you can’t run away from her if you find it is only a trick,”
reasoned Bolingbroke.

“We must take our chances,” replied Dory.

By this time the Goldwing was entering the passage between Cedar and
Garden Islands. The Juniper was close to the shore, and the islands
were about the eighth of a mile apart. The wind was freshening every
minute; and Dory decided to run by the steamer, going as near as it
was prudent to go.

He could still hear the voices of the two men, though their tone had
greatly changed. The skipper saw that the steamer was still at anchor,
for she had swung around with her head to the wind. He was satisfied,
by this fact, that the call for help was not a trick: if it had been,
the Juniper would have been under way by this time.

“Juniper, ahoy!” called Dory, as the Goldwing came up with the launch.
“What is the matter on board?”

“Nothing is the matter. Greeze has had the nightmare, and shouted
murder in his sleep,” replied Lingerwell, trying to laugh it off,
though the effort was a very sickly one.

“Help! help!” shouted the engineer from the other end of the boat.

“He don’t seem to have got over his nightmare yet,” added Dory.--“What
is the matter there? What ails you?” demanded the skipper.

“Lingerwell has nearly killed me: he says I stole his money while he
was after the Millweed fellow,” replied Greeze.

“Shut up, you stupid blockhead! Silence! Don’t say another word about
it, and we will fix up the matter,” said Lingerwell in a wheedling
tone, as though he would have given something handsome to have sealed
the lips of the engineer.

“I won’t shut up! I have been insulted and abused; and I will have
satisfaction if it costs me my life. I didn’t take your money. I
didn’t know you had any,” growled Greeze, moving aft.

This explanation on the part of the engineer enabled Dory to
understand the nature of the quarrel between the two men. When the
Juniper had anchored, Lingerwell had evidently taken the pocket-book
from its hiding-place, and found that worthless paper had been put in
the place of the four hundred and fifty dollars. As he was not aware
that Dory, or any other person, had been on board, he naturally
concluded that the engineer must have robbed him of his ill-gotten
money.

Dory had come up into the wind under the lee of the Juniper. The
lantern hung on a stanchion in the after part of the steamer, so that
the skipper of the Goldwing and his passenger could see what took
place on board of her. The engineer had no sooner reached the place
where Lingerwell stood, than he leaped upon him with the fury of a
tiger.

CHAPTER VI.

THE IMPULSIVE ASSAULT OF THE ENGINEER.

The engineer was evidently suffering under the humiliation of his
former defeat; and now he was seeking to satisfy his revengeful
feelings rather than gain any point, for Lingerwell had offered to
“fix up the matter.” His onslaught was so sudden and unexpected that
Lingerwell was borne down beneath him.

Dory was wise enough to see, on the instant, that the impulsive attack
of the engineer was a great mistake; but it was too late to correct
it. In this case his sympathies were not “with the bottom dog;” for
the engineer had the right on his side, in spite of his blunder.

The skipper of the Goldwing felt called upon to take a hand in the
conflict; and, when Lingerwell was about to shake off his opponent, he
went to the assistance of the latter. The engineer had thrown his man
upon his face, and he was in the act of turning over when Dory put his
knees on the back of the fallen one.

“Put your foot on his back, and grab one of his hands!” exclaimed
Dory, as he grasped an arm.

“I can hold him! He tried to kill me, and I will get even with him!”
gasped Greeze.

“Don’t hurt him,” added Dory.

“I will pay him off for what he did to me!” cried the engineer.

“If you strike him, or kick him, I will leave at once!” added Dory
decidedly. “We can hold him, and keep him from harming you again.”

“He abused me, and I will get even with him,” replied Greeze, a little
mollified by the threat of Dory; for he saw that he could not manage
the steamer alone.

“Don’t harm him: the law will punish him,” continued Dory. “Bolly.”

The passenger in the Goldwing had been looking on with no little
surprise and terror, and had not ventured upon the deck of the
Juniper. Possibly he was too much alarmed to realize that the tables
had been turned.

“What is it, Dory?” he responded to the call.

“Bring me the rope that lies under the tiller.”

Bolingbroke found the line, and carried it to the skipper; but he was
careful not to go too near the fallen tiger, for such he had proved to
be to him. Dory took the line, and succeeded in making it fast to the
arm of Lingerwell.

“What are you about, you young villain? Do you mean to tie my hands?”
demanded the fallen man.

“That’s the idea exactly,” replied Dory, as he attempted to pass the
line around the arm held by the engineer.

Lingerwell had been quiet for a minute after Dory took hold of him,
but the idea of being captured and tied up like a felon was too much
for him. With a series of heavy oaths, he made a desperate effort to
shake off his assailants. The engineer meant business, though the
direction of the assault had been taken out of his hands by the
new-comer. He lay down upon his victim, and jammed his knees into the
small of his back, so that escape was impossible. Dory passed the line
around the other wrist of the conspirator, and the two were securely
bound together behind him.

“He is all right now, and cannot harm anybody,” said Dory. “Get
another line, and we will secure his feet.” Bolingbroke brought the
rope, for by this time he could see that his great enemy was
powerless.

Dory fastened the feet of Lingerwell together, and then turned him on
his side, so that he could be more comfortable. Again the victim
struggled to loose himself; but Dory had done his work well, and he
could produce no impression upon the rope.

“This is an outrage!” yelled he, furious with passion.

“I suppose it isn’t an outrage to try to kill a man,” replied Dory, as
he took the lantern and examined the fastenings he had put on the
prisoner.

“I didn’t try to kill him! That is all nonsense!” replied Lingerwell,
suspending his struggles.

“We won’t argue the matter now,” replied Dory, walking to the forward
part of the boat.

He was followed by the engineer, who seemed to be desirous to explain
the affair. Doubtless he was grateful for the service the boy had
rendered to him, and looked upon the skipper of the Goldwing as his
friend.

“You are a plucky boy, Dory,” said Greeze, when they reached the
wheel, near the bow of the boat. “But I think I could have handled
that fellow alone.”

“It is very strange that you should get into a quarrel out here in the
middle of the night,” added Dory.

“It wasn’t a quarrel of my making; and, if he hadn’t taken me when I
was not thinking of such a thing, the boot would have been on the
other leg. He’s bigger than I am, but I can handle him if I have fair
play.”

“How did you happen to get into such a row?”

“I stopped the boat when we reached this place, and then let go the
anchor, at Lingerwell’s order. When I went forward, I found him on the
floor, feeling about under the ceiling. I didn’t know what he was
doing; and he didn’t care to have me know, for he told me to go aft
and bank the fire in the furnace. I did so, and when I got through I
went forward again. Lingerwell was at the lantern, looking over what
was in a big pocket-book he had in his hands.”

“Had he said any thing about a pocket-book before?” asked Dory.

“Not a word. When I got to him, he looked as though he was very
nervous and excited. He poked the pocket-book over, and then fished
his pockets all through. I asked him what the matter was. He said he
had dropped his pocket-book on the floor, some time during the day; he
didn’t know when. He had just found it; but the money had all been
taken out, and a piece of newspaper put in its place to swell it out.”

“Did he say how much money was in it?” inquired Dory.

“He said there was a good deal in it, but he didn’t tell me how much.”

“Did he say there was a hundred dollars or more?”

“He didn’t say a word about it. He kept getting more excited, and at
last he said I must have taken the money from the pocket-book. I
answered, that I didn’t do it: I hadn’t seen his pocket-book, and
didn’t know he had any money with him. On that he got mad, and I was
as mad as he was.

“We had a long jaw about it, and then he pitched into me. He got me by
the throat before I knew what he was about. He put me down, and then
tried to fish my pockets. I yelled for help, for I thought he would
kill me. I hardly knew what I did; but I shook him off, and we had
another savage jaw about it. Then he pitched into me again. He had a
club in his hand; and I think he would have used it on me, if he
hadn’t heard you yell just at this time.”

“I hoped my hail would let him know there was some one at hand, though
it was only a boy,” added Dory.

“That was what made him let up on me. Then he tried to smooth it over;
but I never was treated like that before, and I meant to have it out
with him.”

“Well, here we are; and what is to be done next?” asked Dory.

“We were waiting down here to catch that Millweed fellow that stole
the money from the safe,” replied Greeze.

“He says he didn’t take the money from the safe, and he is going back
to Burlington to face the music.”

“We might as well go along then: we haven’t any more business up here.
You can steer the Juniper, and we will tow the Goldwing,” suggested
the engineer. “I don’t know how this thing is coming out, but I am
ready to go to Burlington. I suppose Lingerwell will have me
discharged after this, but I don’t care for that. You have tied him
hand and foot, and I don’t know what you mean by that. I meant to take
what I owed him out of his hide.”

“I tied him to keep him from pitching into you again. I want to see
Mr. Longbrook as soon as we get to Burlington; and he can do what he
likes with him,” replied Dory. “We will start for Burlington as soon
as you are ready.”

When the excitement was over, Bolingbroke Millweed had returned to the
Goldwing, and to his berth in the cabin, where he was now fast asleep.
The engineer replenished his fire, and in half an hour the Juniper was
under way. At four o’clock in the morning she was at her wharf in
Burlington. The Goldwing was made fast alongside of her. It was nearly
daylight, and it would be quite by the time Dory could reach the
residence of Mr. Longbrook.

Bolingbroke was roused from his slumbers in the cabin, but he objected
to calling upon the storekeeper at so early an hour in the morning.
Dory did not care for his opinion, and insisted upon going without any
delay. Greeze was to keep watch over Lingerwell until he heard from
Dory, and Mr. Longbrook was to decide what was to be done with the
prisoner.

The house of the storekeeper was easily found. It was about five by
this time, and the early visitors saw that the people were up. To
Dory’s inquiry for the head of the family, the servant said he had
gone to the store. He had staid there till midnight the night before,
and had left the house as soon as it was light.

Dory was not a little astonished at this severe devotion to business;
but he hastened to the store, and found Mr. Longbrook was busy over
his books. He had locked himself in, but he opened the door in answer
to the skipper’s vigorous knocks.

“I am too busy to see any one now,” said the storekeeper impatiently.
“Come at nine o’clock, and I will see you.”

“This young man wants to see you at once,” added Dory, pulling
Bolingbroke into the doorway.

“What, Millweed! So you have come back, young man,” added Mr. Longbrook,
as he recognized his late assistant.

“I have come back to tell you, sir, that I did not take the money from
your safe,” stammered Bolingbroke.

“What did you run away for, then?” demanded the merchant severely.

“Because I was a fool and was frightened. I found that Mr. Lingerwell
was determined to convict me, guilty or innocent; and I had not the
courage to stay and see it out,” replied Bolingbroke honestly.

“You lost four hundred and fifty dollars from your safe, Mr.
Longbrook,” interposed Dory.

“That was just the amount taken, and this young fellow took it. It
looks as though he came to work here at this time for the purpose of
getting it, and he left as soon as he had the money,” said the
merchant angrily. “What have you done with the money, you young
rascal?”

“I have not had it, I have not seen it,” protested Bolingbroke.

“Don’t tell me that! No one else could have taken it. You and
Lingerwell were the only two persons who went to the safe.”

“Possibly Mr. Lingerwell took it himself,” suggested Dory.

Mr. Longbrook knit his brows into a frown, and turned away as though
he was thinking of something. Doubtless he was considering whether or
not it was possible that his trusted head man could have done such a
deed.

“At any rate here is the money,” added Dory, pulling the roll of bills
from his pocket.

The merchant opened his eyes very wide, and so did Mr. Bolingbroke
Millweed.

CHAPTER VII.

BOLINGBROKE MILLWEED OUT OF A PLACE.

Mr. Longbrook took the bills, and a smile of satisfaction overspread
his troubled face. He looked at Dory with astonishment, and then
glanced from him to Bolingbroke. The latter was quite as much
surprised as the owner of the four hundred and fifty dollars.

Dory had not given a hint to his companion or to the engineer that he
had the money. He had concealed the fact from prudential motives. He
had told his mother all about it, but he was not inclined to lead
either of his associates in the boat into temptation.

“I see,” said Mr. Longbrook, nodding his head at Dory. “Your friend
has concluded to give up the money, and expects me to say nothing more
about it.”

“I never saw the money before; and I didn’t know till this minute that
Dory had it,” protested Bolingbroke earnestly.

“He tells the exact truth,” added Dory. “Neither he nor any one but my
mother, who is at Genverres, knew that I had the money. I think you
had better hear the whole story, and then you can judge for yourself.”

Mr. Longbrook was quite willing to hear the story, for he was deeply
interested by this time. He asked Dory and his companion into the
store, and locked the door again. Bolingbroke gave his part of the
narrative first, and Dory finished it out.

“I believed Bolingbroke told me the truth; and I accepted Mr.
Lingerwell’s statement that one of the two must have stolen the
money,” said Dory. “When the skipper and engineer left the Juniper to
catch my passenger, I looked the steamer over, and found the
pocket-book. I put the piece of newspaper into the place where I took
out the bills, hoping that Mr. Lingerwell would suppose he had the
bills until he got to Burlington.”

Then followed the skipper’s account of the quarrel on board of the
Juniper, which confirmed Dory’s statement. It was as clear to the
merchant as it was to Dory, that the head man had stolen the money.

“Where is Lingerwell now?” asked Mr. Longbrook.

“He is on board of the Juniper, tied hand and foot; and the engineer
is keeping guard over him. He did not know I had been on board of the
Juniper in his absence; and he was sure that Greeze must have taken
the money from the pocket-book, and put the newspaper in its place.
You can do what you like with him.”

“I knew that man was a villain!” exclaimed Bolingbroke when Dory had
finished his explanation. “I saw why I was sent to the safe for the
cash-book, when it was almost within reach of his hands; and that was
one of my reasons for running away. I was a fool, but I was
frightened.”

“I wish I had known that Lingerwell was a rascal a little sooner.
Since he went after this young man yesterday, I have been examining my
books. I am satisfied that he has robbed me of hundreds, if not
thousands, of dollars. I can see just how he has done it. Now we will
go down and see him, and we will have a warrant for his arrest.”

By this time it was seven o’clock, and the merchant departed for the
warrant and the officer to serve it. Dory and Bolingbroke went with
him. As they passed the Van Ness House, Dory was not a little surprised
to see his uncle standing at the entrance of the hotel with quite a
little crowd of boys. The skipper counted ten of them, and he wondered
if they were to be pupils in the Beech-Hill Industrial School.

“You are here in good time, Theodore,” demanded Captain Gildrock, as
he recognized his nephew.

“I came up on a little business, uncle,” replied Dory.

“Very important business it was to me, Captain Gildrock,” added Mr.
Longbrook. “I am under very great obligations to him.”

The breakfast-bell rang, and the boys were sent in to obtain the
morning meal. The merchant gave an outline of the loss and recovery of
his money. The captain asked a great many questions, which were all
answered to his satisfaction. Then he insisted that the party should
breakfast with him.

Mr. Longbrook accepted the invitation, and they entered the hotel. In
the vestibule the merchant met the justice to whom he intended to
apply for the warrant. He stated his case to him, and the gentleman
promised to have the warrant ready by the time he had finished his
breakfast. The party seated themselves at the table.

“A telegram for you, Captain Gildrock,” said one of the clerks,
bringing the message to him.

“‘Dory away; no pilot; cannot go up the lake.--JEPSON,’” read the
captain from the despatch in his hand. “Then you did not come down in
the Sylph, Theodore. Of course you did not. I have heard the story of
your movements during the night. I telegraphed to you last night from
here to come down in the steamer, and take the new scholars to Beech
Hill.”

“I have the Goldwing here, and I can take them home in her,” replied
Dory.

“But I have ten boys with me: there they are at the other table. They
are about as wild and harum-scarum a set of youngsters as I ever saw
in my life. But we will take all that out of them in a few days, when
I get them to Beech Hill,” replied the captain confidently.

“I can take the crowd up in the Goldwing.”

“We will see about that when we have done breakfast, and you have
disposed of your prisoner.”

“The Juniper is at your service, Captain Gildrock.”

“Thank you: perhaps we may want to use her.”

Mr. Longbrook inquired in regard to the sloop that had been sunk. It
was not likely that Lingerwell would be able to pay for the mischief
he had done; and the merchant said he had a sloop, not a very fine
one, which he was willing to give as a substitute for the one lost.
Bolingbroke was delighted with this offer, and promptly accepted it.

After breakfast the party proceeded to the wharf where the Juniper
lay, the recruits for the Industrial School being required to report
at the hotel at ten o’clock. Mr. Longbrook found things on board of
his steam-launch precisely as represented to him by Dory. Lingerwell
still lay on the floor in the after part of the steamer. Greeze sat
near him, and apparently had not taken his eye off him since the
departure of Dory early in the morning.

The officer with the warrant had not yet put in an appearance. The
merchant, before he showed himself to his delinquent head man, called
the engineer up the wharf, and questioned him in regard to the events
of the night. His statement did not vary from that of Dory and
Bolingbroke, though Greeze as yet had no suspicion that the money he
had been charged with stealing had been taken from the safe of his
employer.

“I think there are enough of us to handle this man,” said Mr.
Longbrook, as he returned to the steam-launch. “You may untie his
hands, Greeze.”

“With fair play I can handle him alone,” replied the engineer, as he
proceeded to release the wrists of the culprit on the floor. Greeze
helped him to get upon his feet, and then gave him a seat opposite the
merchant.

“Well, Lingerwell, I find you did not capture the thief,” said the
storekeeper.

“I did not: he found an accomplice in Dory Dornwood, who helped him to
escape,” replied the prisoner doggedly; and, as he had no knowledge of
what had transpired at the store, he was not prepared to admit any
thing.

“But how does it happen that I find you a prisoner, bound hand and
foot?” asked the merchant.

“I am the victim of an outrage. I had some difficulty with the
engineer in the night, and he joined forces with Dory against me. By
taking me unawares, they succeeded in making me a prisoner. I had some
money with me, and dropped my pocket-book on the floor near the wheel.
When I found it, the money was taken out, and its place filled with a
piece of newspaper.” This statement also confirmed that of Dory.

“How much money did you happen to have with you?” inquired his
employer.

“About a hundred dollars. Of course I knew that the engineer had done
this, for no one but Greeze and myself had been on board of the
steamer.”

“Are you sure of that?”

“As sure as I can be of any thing in this world,” persisted
Lingerwell.

“Are you correct about the amount of money in your pocket-book?”

“I would not say there was just a hundred dollars in it, but about
that amount.”

“Wasn’t there four hundred and fifty dollars in the pocket-book?”
demanded the merchant sharply.

“I am sure there was not,” the culprit persisted.

“The pocket-book was not taken by the thief: do you happen to have it
about you, Lingerwell?”

“After I found it was empty, I laid it on the rail for a minute, and
it fell overboard. It was so dark I could not recover it,” replied the
prisoner.

While Lingerwell was inventing and uttering this falsehood, Mr.
Longbrook picked up a piece of newspaper, folded in the shape of a
bank-bill, which he found lying on the floor of the steamer.

“I suppose this is the piece of paper you found in the pocket-book in
place of the money?”

“That is the piece of paper.”

“Here is the rest of the paper,” added Dory, taking a newspaper from
his pocket.

The merchant put the two pieces of paper together, and found they were
part of the same sheet.

“Then it was this Dory that robbed me of my money!” exclaimed the
prisoner savagely.

“Robbed you of my money, you mean, Lingerwell. Dory has returned to me
the money he took from the pocket-book you hid under the ceiling of
the launch. Lingerwell, to the crime of robbery you add the meanness
and the baseness of charging it upon an innocent person,” said the
merchant sternly. “Yesterday I would have trusted you with all I had
in the world. To-day I find you are a thief and a villain. Here comes
the officer with a warrant for you.”

Lingerwell subsided at once; in fact, he broke down like a child, and
cried like a baby. He had not supposed he could be discovered so
readily, but rogues are very apt to make blunders. The officer marched
him to the lockup; and we may as well add here, that he was sentenced,
in due time, to the State prison for three years.

“I suppose I shall be wanted in the store, Mr. Longbrook?” asked
Bolingbroke, when the culprit had been marched off.

“If you had not run away, you would have been all right, young man,”
replied the merchant. “Yesterday I engaged two experienced men at very
low wages, and they were to come this morning. I shall not need you.”

“If it is a fair question, Mr. Longbrook, how much do you pay the two
men?” asked Captain Gildrock.

“One five, and the other six, dollars a week.”

The captain nodded his head, but made no reply.

“The fact is, there are three times as many clerks as there are
places,” added the storekeeper.

Bolingbroke was terribly disappointed to lose even a temporary place.

CHAPTER VIII.

PUPILS FOR THE BEECH-HILL INDUSTRIAL SCHOOL.

Mr. Longbrook conducted Bolingbroke to another part of the wharf, and
pointed out to him an old sloop, about the size of the one sunk in the
deep water.

“I am sorry you are out of a place, young man; but you are welcome to
that boat in place of the one you lost, though I don’t feel under any
obligations to replace it. It was your misfortune that you were
accused of a crime. If you had not run away, I should have had a
chance to investigate the matter. I went out for a moment, and when I
returned you had gone. When I want another clerk, I will try to think
of you,” said the merchant, as he walked away towards the store.

Bolingbroke could hardly keep from crying at his disappointment in
losing the place, which he had expected would be a permanent one. The
salary was only four dollars a week; but he could board with a relative
for two, and he could at least relieve his father of one mouth to
feed.

“What’s the matter, my lad?” asked Captain Gildrock, as he and Dory
walked up the wharf. “You look as though you had not a friend in the
world.”

“I have lost the place I expected to have, and my father is very
poor,” replied Bolingbroke with due humility.

“What sort of a place was it?” asked the captain.

“It was a situation in Mr. Longbrook’s store. I have been looking for
a place for a year; but I am afraid I shall never find one,” replied
Bolingbroke, hoping the rich man would interest himself in his favor.

“There are ten clerks for every vacancy. Can’t you find any thing else
to do?”

“I don’t know: I never looked for any other kind of a place.”

“I should think you might find a place to work on a farm,” added the
captain in perfect good faith.

“On a farm!” exclaimed Bolingbroke, actually stopping in his walk in
his astonishment.

“I hear that there is a scarcity of help on the farms in the State,”
continued Captain Gildrock. “I should say you might earn four or five
dollars a week, or at least fifteen dollars a month, on a farm,
besides your board; and that is better pay than you can get in a
store.”

“I never worked on a farm,” added Bolingbroke, who possibly knew that
the rich man of Beech Hill had some peculiar notions.

“Where do you live?”

“I live in Genverres, on the north side, where my father has a farm.”

“Does your father carry on a farm?”

“Yes, sir: he has always been a farmer.”

“I should think you could find enough to do at home. Don’t your father
need any help on his place?”

“He hires all the help he wants. I never did any thing on the farm.”

“You look like a stout fellow; and I should think you could do a man’s
work for him,” added the captain, surprised in his turn.

“Perhaps I could, if I had been brought up to it,” replied Bolingbroke
rather sheepishly.

“Have you any brothers and sisters?”

“One brother and two sisters.”

“I should not think your father ought to be very poor, if he has a
farm, and two stout boys to help him. What does your brother do?”

“He has been looking for a place in a store for the last three years.
He has tried in Burlington, Rutland, and Brattleboro’; and he thinks
of going to New York or Boston.”

“Don’t your brother work on the farm when he is out of work?” asked
Captain Gildrock, who was beginning to get an inkling of the
situation.

“Neither of us ever did any thing on the farm. Mother has never been
willing that we should work on a farm,” replied Bolingbroke. “Father
wants us to do something else.”

“Do your two sisters do any thing? How old are they?”

“Elinora is twenty, and Fatima is twenty-two. They have never done any
thing.”

“I dare say they are both engaged, and their future is marked out,”
suggested the captain with a smile.

“Neither of them is engaged, and there is nothing to indicate their
future.”

“I suppose you have all been to school?”

“We are all graduates of the Genverres high-school.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed Captain Gildrock significantly, as though the last
item of information explained the situation fully to him. “Why don’t
you learn a trade?”

“Learn a trade!” ejaculated Bolingbroke. “I never thought of such a
thing.”

“It is a good time to think of it now then. You are not more than
sixteen or seventeen,” suggested the captain. “If you like, I will
receive you as a pupil in the Beech-Hill Industrial School, where you
can become a carpenter or a machinist, or learn to run an engine. You
can stay for a year or longer, and it will cost you nothing. I think
you said your father was very poor, and no other member of the family
seems to be earning any thing.”

“My father has hard work to get along. His farm is mortgaged for about
all it is worth, and it takes all the money he can raise to pay the
interest; and he is afraid he will lose all his property.”

“If you will come to my school, I will put you in the way of saving
money enough from your wages another year to pay your father’s
interest. If I don’t I will pay it myself.”

“I think a word from you would get me a place in some store in
Burlington. If you would recommend me”--

“How can I recommend you when I never saw you before in my life? I
don’t do things in that way,” interposed Captain Gildrock. “If you
join the school, I will see that you are in a position to earn fair
wages another year. One of our last year’s boys gets thirty dollars a
month besides his board. All of them get twenty or more. After they
have had experience they will command from fifty to a hundred dollars
a month. You can think of it, and let me know your decision in a few
days; for the school opens on the 1st of September.”

The party reached the hotel by this time. Dory and Bolingbroke were
summoned to appear as witnesses in the case of Lingerwell the next
day. Captain Gildrock found the ten recruits for the school at the
hotel. He had picked them up among his friends in Montpelier, St.
Albans, and St. Johnsbury. If he did not know it before, he had
ascertained on his trip to Burlington with them, that they were a set
of wild boys.

He was in a hurry to get them to Beech Hill before they tore any
houses down, or did any other mischief. At least five out of the ten
had been expelled from private schools or academies, because the
instructors could not manage them; three of them were the sons of
wealthy men; and all of them were supposed to have a liking for
mechanical pursuits. The captain was confident that he could manage
them after he got them to his estate.

Dory was satisfied that he could seat them all in the Goldwing, for he
had often taken out twenty in her on pleasure-excursions. But his
uncle was afraid they would “cut up,” as he expressed himself, and
make trouble on the passage. He spoke to them about going in the
schooner, and they were delighted with the idea. Most of them had
never been on the lake in any sort of a craft, and some had never even
seen a steamboat or a sailboat.

Captain Gildrock consented to the arrangement after he had charged the
recruits to behave with propriety in the boat, and to obey the orders
of the skipper. They promised to do these things, and they were
marched down to the wharf. Bolingbroke followed the party, evidently
because he did not know what else to do with himself.

“Couldn’t you say a word to your uncle in my favor, Dory?” said he on
the way to the lake. “He knows all the storekeepers, and a word from
him would make a place for me.”

“He won’t recommend you, because he knows nothing at all about you,”
replied Dory. “Why don’t you join the school, as he asked you to do?”

“I should make nothing for my father by doing that,” added
Bolingbroke. “I want to help him pay his interest-money.”

“How much can you do for him when you get only four dollars a week?”
asked Dory. “You would have to pay three for your board, and that
would leave you about fifty to pay for your clothes, washing, and all
other expenses. You would be just as well off at the end of the year,
and so would your father, if you went to the school.”

“But the idea of becoming a carpenter or a greasy machinist!”
exclaimed Bolingbroke with a curl upon his lip.

“I thought you wanted to earn money to help your father. A little oil
on your hands won’t hurt you,” replied Dory, rather disgusted with his
companion.

“I am sure my mother won’t let me become a mechanic, but I will speak
to her about it tonight. I suppose I can go down with you in the
Goldwing: I have no other way to get home.”

“Certainly, I have room enough. But how will you get the sloop Mr.
Longbrook gave you up to Genverres?”

“I will write to Sim Green, and he can go up in her when he is ready
to return.”

When the party arrived at the wharf, and the Goldwing was pointed out
to them, they were delighted with her. Some of them wondered if it
were safe to go in her, though most of the ten were afraid of nothing.
Captain Gildrock had business in Burlington which would detain him
till the next day, and it was arranged that Dory should come down in
the Sylph to attend court. His uncle would return in the steamer.

“But what are we to do with all these fellows before you come, uncle
Royal?” asked Dory. “They will tear the house down, and dry up the
lake.”

“Jepson and Brookbine are there; and, as they are to instruct the
pupils, they ought to be able to manage them,” replied the captain;
but his looks indicated that he had some anxiety about the matter.
“Tell Mr. Brookbine to assign the rooms to the boys, one to each, in
the dormitory. The rogues will not think of doing any mischief until
they are better acquainted.”

Captain Gildrock gave Dory a paper on which were written the names of
the new pupils. He called them off, one at a time, and gave to each
one his place in the boat. They behaved very well under the eye of the
captain. They were seated five on each side of the standing-room,
leaving room for the skipper to go forward and aft.

“I suppose you know all about a boat, fellows,” said Dory, as he went
forward to hoist the jib.

“Never saw a sailboat before!” exclaimed Ben Ludlow.

“Nor I!” shouted half a dozen others.

“Where have you been all your lives?” laughed Dory, as he paused on
his way.

“In the woods,” replied Ben.

The skipper shoved off, and the Goldwing stood across the lake.

CHAPTER IX.

THE VOLUNTEER HELMSMAN AND HIS MOVEMENTS.

The wind was strong from the south-west; and, after passing the
breakwater, the Goldwing struck into a smart little sea for a
fresh-water pond. The motion was so strange, not to say exciting, to
the passengers from the interior, that they kept very still for a
time. The water slopped over the bow, and occasionally a bucketful
pounded pretty hard on the forward deck.

Some of the boys were evidently a little startled, though they did not
like to show that they were moved by this new experience. Others tried
to look and act as though they had been on the waves all the days of
their lives.

“It’s all right, fellows,” said Dory, when about half a barrel of
water slapped on the boards forward. “We intend to keep on the top of
the water.”

“Does a boat always do like that, and take the water in?” asked Ben
Ludlow, who had never seen a sheet of water bigger than a pond a mile
in diameter.

“No: sometimes the boat don’t throw the water at all, but sometimes it
does ten times as bad as now. I have been out in this boat when one
hand had to keep baling all the time. We call this a quiet sail.”

“Of course it’s a quiet sail,” added Oscar Chester, who had once been
on a steamer. “There isn’t any thing to be afraid of.”

“I can stand it as long as the rest of you,” replied Ben Ludlow, who
thought the last speaker had cast an imputation upon his courage.
“When Dory is frightened, it will be time enough for the rest of us to
get scared.”

“I had no idea that a boat made such a fuss in going along,” said Dave
Windsor.

“It don’t always; but we are sailing against the wind as near as we
can go,” Dory explained. “I suppose all you fellows are going to learn
how to sail a boat, and you might as well begin now.”

The skipper of the Goldwing proceeded to show in what manner the mouth
of Beaver River was to be reached. When he had gone far enough to
weather Willsborough Point, he could lay his course to Thompson’s
Point; and from there he must beat about dead to windward. Most of the
new pupils were interested, and asked a great many questions. Dory
explained every thing very minutely; and it was not his fault if they
did not understand, at least the theory of sailing a boat against the
wind.

“But I can’t see what makes the boat go ahead when the wind is against
her,” suggested John Brattle. “I can understand how the wind pushes
the boat along when it is blowing from behind her, but not when it
comes from the way it does now.”

“It is the friction of the wind against the sails. Did you ever see a
ferry-boat cross a river by the force of the current?”

John Brattle happened to be the only one of the party who had seen a
current-boat. He had crossed the Androscoggin River, in Maine, in a
stage on such a craft.

“If the ferry-boat were headed square across the river, the current
would not move her any way but down the river,” added Dory.

“There was a big wire rope stretched across the river, which did not
let her go down the stream,” replied John Brattle. “Then the boat was
turned to an angle half-way between the direction of the current and
the wire rope.”

“Precisely as our sails are set at an angle with the course of the
boat. In this position the friction of the water against the boat
forces it across the river.”

“But you have no wire rope.”

“We have a centre-board instead.” Dory pointed out the centre-board of
the Goldwing, and showed how it worked. “This boat would slide off
sideways if it were not for that.”

“But we have to go a great deal farther when beating,” said Ned
Bellows.

“Of course we do,” replied Dory. “Sometimes we have to go two miles to
make one when the wind is dead ahead.”

“Captain Gildrock said it was twenty miles from Burlington to Beech
Hill. Must we go forty miles to get there?” asked Ben Ludlow.

“Not at all: the wind isn’t dead ahead. Here we are, just north of
Willsborough Point. I am coming about now. Look out for your heads
when the boom goes over.”

Dory put the helm down, and all the sails began to flap and bang. But
in a moment the Goldwing took the wind on the starboard tack, the
sails went over, and the schooner began to gather headway on her new
course.

“That’s what we call tacking,” said the skipper. “We shall go about
eleven miles on this tack.”

“I say, Dory, let me steer her a while now,” added Oscar Chester,
rising from his seat, and moving aft.

“Keep your seat!” replied the skipper rather sharply. “You mustn’t
move about in the boat.”

“But I want to steer her,” persisted Oscar, resuming his seat.

“Did you ever steer a boat?” asked Dory.

“I never steered a sailboat; but I can do it as well as you can,”
added the new pupil. “I have seen just how it is done. When you want
the boat to go to the right, you put the stick in your hand to the
left.”

“I don’t believe in running any risks in a boat, and I must keep the
helm myself,” answered Dory. “There is wind enough to upset the boat
if you don’t know how to handle her.”

“But I do know how to handle her. I have kept my eyes open, and I know
all about it. It don’t take me a month to learn any thing.”

“If we were alone I would let you try it, just to enable you to see
how easy it is to be mistaken,” said Dory, laughing.

“It’s nothing to steer a boat! You needn’t make such a big thing of
it.”

“Well, it is a big thing!” exclaimed Bolingbroke. “I thought I knew
something about it yesterday, and I got overboard in two hundred and
fifty feet of water; and that is deep enough to drown the whole of
you. I should have finished my mortal career then if Dory had not
picked me up.”

None of the other boys said any thing, though it was plain to the
skipper that they did not want Oscar to steer the boat. Dory began to
understand what sort of a fellow Oscar was; and it was evident to him
that he was the bully of the crowd, and that he had already set up,
and perhaps established, his superiority. He was older and larger than
Dory, though three or four of the new pupils were heavier than he.

“You all seem to be afraid of a boat,” continued Oscar with a palpable
sneer. “I am not afraid of her.”

“Can you swim a mile?” asked Dory quietly.

“I can’t swim a rod. I don’t intend to tip her over.”

“Perhaps the rest of the fellows can swim.”

They all protested that they could not.

“If this boat should fill with water, she would go to the bottom like
a pound of lead,” continued Dory. “The water is over two hundred feet
deep out here. It is four hundred off Thompson’s Point. But, if you
can’t swim, you would drown just as quick in six feet of water as in
six hundred.”

“I don’t care for your bugbears: I’m not afraid of them. I want to
steer this boat, and I’m going to do it!” added Oscar stoutly.

“I don’t believe you will steer her on this trip,” replied Dory in a
quiet tone. “But I will give you a chance to steer all you want to
when we are alone.”

“Do you take me for a little chicken, Dory, that can be led around by
you?” demanded Oscar, rising from his place.

“Keep your seat!” added the skipper sharply.

“No, I won’t keep my seat! I will let you know that you are not my
boss.”

“In a boat all hands must obey the skipper, as I shall obey you, Oscar
Chester, when you are the skipper of any boat I am in; and that is
just what Captain Gildrock told you all to do just before we sailed.”

“I don’t obey a little snipper-snapper of a fellow like you, Dory. I
never was bossed by any boy, and I don’t begin now,” blustered Oscar,
moving towards the stern of the boat.

Dory saw that there was likely to be trouble. He had correctly read
the character of Chester; and he was not anxious, while responsible
for the safety of the boat and her passengers, to have any difficulty
with him. He was not afraid of him, bold and stout as Oscar appeared
to be.

Putting the helm up a little, he allowed the schooner to fall off
until the strong wind heeled the boat over, so that the water was
nearly even with the top of the wash-board. This was decidedly
startling to some of the boys, who cried out in their alarm.

The Goldwing went over so far that Oscar was not at all secure in his
footing; and he came very near tumbling over the heads of the fellows
on the lee side, for they had bent forward as the schooner heeled
over.

“Sit down! Keep your seat, Oscar Chester!” shouted Dory. But it was no
part of the rebel’s nature to obey an order of any kind after what had
happened. The inside of the boat was rather crowded, except on each
side of the tiller, where the space had been reserved for the
helmsman.

Making a lively spring for the open space on the lee side of the
rudder-head, he brought up on the seat, just as the skipper put the
helm down to bring the boat back to her former course. The Goldwing
was jumping on the waves; and the rebel did not fetch up just as he
intended, for the motion of the boat interfered with his calculations.
He grasped the main-sheet, and finally came down on the bit of deck
astern of the standing-room.

Oscar evidently wanted to prove that he “always came down-stairs that
way;” for he let go the sheet, and tried to stand up straight. His
pride was still in the ascendency. Dory had put the helm over so far
that the sails were spilled, and this set the schooner to pitching.
Oscar had hardly let go the sheet, when he lost his balance,
and pitched into the lake, disappearing beneath the surface. Dory
tried to catch him before he went over, but failed to do so.

“He has fallen over into the water!” screamed some of the boys,
terribly frightened by this time.

“He will be drowned!” yelled others.

The only one who had not entirely lost his head was the skipper. Dory
was as cool as though he had been up to his neck in ice-water. He had
been in all sorts of scrapes, though he had never encountered a bully
under such unfavorable circumstances. He had put the helm down before,
and the Goldwing had lost her headway. Of course she would not answer
her helm when she had lost her steerage-way.

Oscar Chester came to the top of the water, and all the boys shouted.
Dory did not even look at him, for he was busy with the boat. He
filled away, and came about as soon as he got steerage-way. Oscar was
floundering about in the most unreasonable manner, with a better
chance of being drowned than of being saved.

CHAPTER X.

THE BATTLE NEAR GARDEN ISLAND.

Oscar Chester had disappeared a second time, and most of the boys in
the boat were paralyzed with terror. Dory saw him as he rose, and knew
just where he was. The Goldwing worked lively in that breeze. The
skipper handled his sheets with extraordinary celerity. Going free,
the schooner dashed down to the spot, and reached it just as the
victim of his own folly rose again to the surface.

Dory saw him just as the bow of the Goldwing was about to strike his
head. Keeping her off a little, he leaned over the side, and grasped
the drowning bully by the hair of the head, though not till he had put
the helm hard down.

It was but a meagre hold that he had upon the sufferer, but he clung
to him till the boat came up into the wind. Oscar had not lost his
senses, though his mouth was too full of water to permit any
utterance, if he had any thing to say. Dory held on, though the
aimless struggles of the victim rendered it very difficult for him to
do so.

“Grab him by the collar!” shouted Dory to the next fellow in the boat.
Lew Shoreham, who was the largest boy in the crowd, obeyed the order;
though it was a difficult matter for an inexperienced hand to do any
thing while the boat was flopping about in the heavy sea. But Lew got
hold with one hand, and Dory shifted his grasp from the hair to the
collar.

After a lively struggle, with the assistance of two other boys, they
succeeded in hauling Oscar into the boat. He was exhausted by his
struggles in the water, and he dropped upon the floor of the
standing-room as limpsy as a wet rag. Dory gave no further attention
to him, but grasped the helm, and soon got the Goldwing upon her
course again, so that she was steady.

“Turn him over on his stomach, and let the water run out of him,” said
the skipper. “Here, Bolly! Come aft! You can stand up in a boat.”

[Illustration: THE BATTLE OFF GARDEN ISLAND. Page 113.]

Bolingbroke obeyed the order, and the victim poured out a considerable
quantity of water from his mouth. Dory then directed his companions to
convey the sufferer to the cabin, and put him in one of the berths,
covering him with the blankets. But Oscar was not insensible, for he
had only exhausted himself by his violent struggles. In half an hour
he had recovered from the shock. The fresh wind made it cool on the
lake, and it took all the blankets on board to warm him.

“That was a narrow escape. He had been down twice; and if he had gone
down again we should not have seen him again,” said Bolingbroke, as he
came out of the cabin. “I think that fellow will obey orders next
time.”

“No, he won’t!” cried Oscar, sticking his head out at the door. “It
isn’t the first time I have been under water, and I’m not killed yet.
Dory did it on purpose to pitch me overboard, and I will get even with
him!”

Perhaps all but Dory and Bolingbroke knew Oscar well enough not to be
greatly surprised at this demonstration. It looked as though the
lesson, which Dory hoped would cure him of his desire to handle a boat
before he had learned how to do it, had been wholly lost upon the
pupil. None of the party said any thing in reply to the speech, and it
was plain that they stood in fear of the rebel.

In another hour, when the Goldwing was approaching Thompson’s Point,
Oscar was sufficiently warmed up to leave the cabin. He went aft, and
seated himself quite near the skipper. He looked decidedly ugly, and
Dory thought that half-drowning was not enough for him. He wondered
what his uncle expected to do with such a fellow. He would be equal to
a whole nest of hornets from the time the school was opened.

“I heard some one call you Dory Dornwood,” said Oscar, fixing his gaze
upon the skipper.

“My name is Theodore Dornwood; but they call me Dory for short,”
replied Dory.

“The name is all right, Dory. You have insulted me, and you have
pitched me into the lake,” continued Oscar, frowning like an untamed
savage. “You got ahead of me before all these boys; and I am not the
fellow to swallow an insult, or to pass over an injury.”

Dory looked at the bully once, and then took a leisure survey of the
lake ahead, and of the sails of the schooner.

“I spoke to you, Dory Dornwood: didn’t you hear me?” demanded Oscar in
savage tones.

“I heard all you said. I have nothing to say in reply,” answered the
cool skipper.

“I spoke to you, and you will answer me, or take the consequences,”
added Oscar. “I am not a spring chicken, as you took me to be. I said
that you had insulted me, and pitched me into the lake. Do you confess
that you have done so?”

“I don’t confess any thing. I am in charge of this boat, and
responsible for the lives of those in her,” replied Dory quietly. “I
don’t care to talk about the matter you have brought up, just now.
When we get to Beech Hill I will answer your questions, and we will
settle the matter if there is any thing to settle; though I would
rather have you fix it up with Captain Gildrock.”

“That won’t do! I settle for an insult on the spot!” stormed Oscar. He
rose from his seat, and with clinched fists approached the skipper.

“We are close to the land!” shouted one of the boys forward.

“I don’t care where we are! We settle this matter here and now,” said
Oscar, making a slight movement forward.

“Come, come!” interposed Bolingbroke. “This thing has gone far enough,
Oscar. Don’t you see that Dory is the skipper of the boat, and that we
can’t do any thing without him? Let him alone, and he says he will
make it right with you when we get ashore.”

“Here and now!” repeated the bully.

Dory had been running for Garden Island, where he brought up on his
long tack. He understood the situation, and feared that some of the
party might be drowned if Oscar Chester got the control of the boat.
He heard the centre-board scraping on the sands at the bottom, though
the water was nearly two hundred feet deep only a short distance from
the shore of the island.

The skipper realized that his rebel passenger was about to make an
assault of some kind upon him, and he put the helm hard down. The boat
came up into the wind with every thing shaking. Oscar sprang upon him
as he did so, but Dory was on his feet at the same instant. The waves
beat smartly upon the shore of the island, and the centre-board was
still grating upon the bottom.

“Do you confess that you insulted me?” demanded the bully, as he
seized Dory by the collar.

“I do not confess,” replied Dory. At the same instant he sprang like a
tiger upon his assailant.

The skipper was accustomed to the motion of the boat, while Oscar was
not. The assailant had evidently not expected so vigorous a defence.
Dory shook off the grasp of Oscar, a sharp struggle ensued, and it
ended almost the instant it began in a heavy splash in the water.

Dory had tumbled the bully over the stern of the boat into the lake.
Those who looked on could hardly tell how it was done, for the defeat
of Oscar had been accomplished almost like a flash. On the land it
might have been different in the result, but in the uneasy boat the
experienced hand won a quick victory.

“He is in the water again!” shouted the boys.

But he was in the water not more than half a minute, for there was not
ten feet between the stern of the schooner and the island. Oscar
scrambled to the shore, and made his way to the level of the island.
The wind had filled the sails on the other tack, and the boat began to
move ahead.

Dory saw that Oscar had made a landing on the island. Attending to the
sheets, he filled away on the port tack. The Goldwing dashed ahead as
though she was glad to be rid of the bully who had made so much trouble
on board of her.

“Are you going to leave him there, Dory?” asked Lew Shoreham.

“Of course I am going to leave him there. He can’t drown on the
island; and, if I take him on board again, he may destroy the whole of
us,” replied Dory rather warmly. “He is the most unreasonable fellow I
ever met in my life.”

“But what will he do on that island?” asked Ben Ludlow.

“Repent of his folly the first thing he does, I hope,” answered Dory.

“Does any one live on the island?” inquired Jim Alburgh.

“No one lives there. If any one did, that fellow would get up a
quarrel with him in fifteen minutes. Captain Gildrock may settle his
case, though I fancy he will go for me the first chance he gets.”

“He is sure to do that,” added Bob Swanton.

“He may get a thrashing if he does,” replied Dory.

“Don’t be too sure of that, Dory. He is a fighting character, and has
been turned out of three academies, to say nothing of half a dozen
other schools. He rules the roost wherever he goes,” continued Bob.

“He won’t do it at Beech Hill,” said Dory confidently.

“If he don’t he will run away.”

“He won’t run a great ways before my uncle gets his paw upon him. I am
going down to Burlington this afternoon, in the steamer, after my
uncle. We shall pass the island, and he can do what he pleases with
the fellow. I don’t think I am any more afraid of him than he is of
me.”

During the rest of the passage the events we have narrated were fully
discussed, and Dory learned more about the antecedents of Oscar
Chester. Doubtless he was the worst fellow in the party; but, if the
truth had been known, Dory would have understood that some of the
others were not much better. In three hours from Burlington the
Goldwing arrived at the little lake on which Beech Hill was located.

Mr. Brookbine, a very intelligent carpenter, who had been engaged as
an instructor in this department, was on the wharf; and the new pupils
were handed over to him. He marched them to the dormitory, where the
boys deposited what little baggage they brought. The Sylph lay at the
wharf, and the smoke was pouring out of her smoke-stack; for Jepson
had received a telegraph-message from Captain Gildrock.

The boys were more interested in the steam-yacht than in any thing
else; and they immediately asked permission of Mr. Brookbine, as they
had before of Dory, to go to Burlington in her. The master-carpenter
was willing; but he decided to go with them, after the experience
which Dory had had with them on the passage up.

Dory was the pilot, and he took his place in the pilot-house. He was
perfectly at home there; and the Sylph was really under his command,
for the carpenter knew nothing about boats or navigation. In a
discussion in regard to Oscar Chester, Mr. Brookbine thought he had
better be taken on board, for it would be late before they returned
from Burlington. A boat was sent for him, and he was brought on board.

CHAPTER XI.

THE MASTER-CARPENTER DISPOSES OF HIS PRISONER.

Oscar Chester had been on Garden Island over two hours, and had had
time enough to cool off. It was plain that he did not like the looks
of Mr. Brookbine, who was a stalwart Vermonter, over six feet in
height. He had gone on shore with one of the men from the estate, who
acted as a deck-hand, to bring off the rebel.

Oscar said nothing when he went on board of the steamer, and the other
boys were not inclined to make any talk with him. He walked from one
end of the Sylph to the other, taking a hasty survey of the
steam-yacht. He did not appear to be looking for any thing in
particular.

When he was on the forward deck he discovered Dory in the pilot-house.
He did not even bestow a second glance upon him, and went aft in a few
minutes. He looked sullen and obstinate, and it was clear that he was
disgusted with his experience on the lake.

“No use, Oscar,” said Williston Orwell, as the rebel approached him at
the stern of the boat. “You haven’t made out any thing, and I don’t
believe you will.”

“The end of the world hasn’t come yet,” replied Oscar with a heavy
sneer. “There is time enough yet, and you know I never back down.”

“But you might as well. You began too soon,” added Will Orwell.

“I didn’t begin at all: I was civil enough to Dory till he began to
put on airs. He talked to me just as though I were a little child, and
he were the Grand Mogul. I told him I wanted to steer the boat, and he
told me to sit down. He insulted me.”

“I don’t think he did, Oscar. None of us were ever in a sailboat
before; and I think he did just right in not letting you steer, for it
wouldn’t have taken much to upset that boat with so many in her.”

“Then you think I am a spring chicken, do you, Will?” demanded Oscar
with a curl of the lip.

“You know I don’t think any such thing; but you don’t know how to
steer a sailboat any more than I do. You were a little too fast to
think of doing it so soon,” reasoned Orwell with proper deference,
though he ventured to speak the truth as he understood it.

“If the fellow hadn’t put on airs, and ordered me about as though I
had been his servant, I wouldn’t say a word,” continued Oscar. “As it
is, he insulted me, and pitched me into the lake.”

“He didn’t pitch you into the lake, Oscar. You are not used to a boat
tossed about by the waves, and you fell overboard.”

“Didn’t he make the boat tip more when I stood up on purpose to pitch
me into the lake?” demanded Oscar angrily.

“I don’t know whether he did or not. I don’t understand a boat.”

“I know he did! And then he tumbled me into the water at the island.”

“But you pitched into him then; and, as he could stand up better than
you could in the boat, he threw you overboard.”

“I shall get even with him; and if I don’t throw him into the lake, it
will be because I can’t do it,” blustered the rebel. “I see you are on
his side.”

“I am not on his side; but I don’t expect a fellow to stand still,
and let you thrash him. I advise you to let him alone for a while, and
your time will come before many days have gone by. Don’t touch him
while he is handling the boat,” added the politic companion.

“I shall go for him the first moment I can get at him, and I know
where he is now,” said the intemperate rebel.

“Don’t do it: Dory is the pilot of the steamer, and the engineer just
told me that they can do nothing without him. Didn’t you hear Captain
Gildrock read the telegraph-message, that Dory was away, and for that
reason he could not go down to Burlington to convey us to Beech Hill?”
reasoned Will very earnestly.

“I don’t care what he is: I shall not feel easy for a moment until I
get even with him. I will pull him out of that cubby-house where he
is, and pitch him into the lake, before I am half an hour older,”
persisted the rebel.

“Don’t do it! You will only make trouble for yourself. Captain
Gildrock will come on board as soon as we get to Burlington, and if I
mistake not you will find a Tartar in him.”

“I’m not afraid of him. But I don’t think I shall wait for him,”
replied Oscar. “I have not been to Beech Hill yet, but I have had
about enough already to satisfy me what it is going to be. If I am to
be ordered about by a boy younger than I am, and insulted by him,
because I happen to be in a boat with him, I don’t want any more of
it. My uncle gave me money enough to pay my fare to New York, and you
have more than I have, Will. What do you say: will you go with me?”

“What shall we do when we get there? I don’t believe in jumping out of
the frying-pan into the fire,” replied Will.

“Both of us want to go to sea, and all we have to do is to find places
in a ship going to some foreign country. We can take care of
ourselves,” said Oscar confidently.

“I am not ready to go anywhere yet: I want to see what this Industrial
School is. We are to learn how to handle an engine, and how to manage
ships and boats. I think we had better wait a while before we go to
New York. We haven’t money enough to pay our way till we find a place
in a ship.”

“You can do as you like, Will, but I have had enough of this thing;
and when you miss me you will know where I have gone. If you blow on
me”--

“You know very well I won’t do that,” protested Will.

Oscar did not wait to hear any more. He went forward, and then
ascended to the hurricane deck. He and Will Orwell had been cronies,
so far as the character of Oscar would permit such a relation.

The rebel reached the hurricane deck, and went forward to the
pilot-house. He surveyed the situation carefully. Dory stood before an
open window, with the spokes of the wheel in his hands. The doors of
the apartment, one on each side, were open. The young helmsman had no
more thought of being assaulted than he had of jumping overboard.

Dory was delighted with his occupation, for he had not steered the
Sylph enough to make it an old story to him. From Garden Island he had
run out into the lake until the steamer was in range between Split
Rock and Juniper Island lights, when he headed for the latter. This
course would carry him clear of Quaker Smith Reef.

Most of the boys, after looking over the Sylph with wonder and
astonishment at the elegance of her appointments, had gathered on the
main deck forward, where they could see the lake and the course of the
steamer. But a few of them were on the hurricane-deck, and three of
them were in the pilot-house with Dory. The pilot kept his eye on
Juniper Island lighthouse, the top of which could be seen seventeen
miles. The flag-pole in the bow was kept in range with the object for
which he was steering. He had just explained to the boys in the room
how he kept off the rocks and shoals, and found his way to any part of
the lake.

He had hardly finished this explanation before Oscar Chester rushed
into the pilot-house. He rudely knocked aside a couple of the pilot’s
auditors, and laid violent hands upon Dory. The helmsman was
unconscious of the presence of an enemy until the rebel had seized him
by the collar of his coat. He pulled him over on his back upon the
floor.

“Your time has come now, Dory Dornwood!” said Oscar fiercely, as he
began to drag Dory out of the pilot-house.

“So has yours!” added Mr. Brookbine, as he stepped forward from behind
the pilot-house, where he had been reading the morning paper brought
up by the Goldwing.

The master-carpenter took the rebel by the nape of the neck, and
snapped him off his feet before he could wink twice. He pitched him
half-way across the hurricane deck. Oscar was nothing but a “spring
chicken” in the hands of the burly mechanic.

“It’s a pity I took you off that island!” exclaimed Mr. Brookbine, as
he bestowed a glance of contempt upon the rebel. “Did he hurt you,
Dory?”

“Not at all. He came up behind me when I was not thinking of any thing
of that kind, or I should have taken care of myself,” replied the
young pilot, as he rushed back to the wheel.

The pilot got his range again, and the Sylph went ahead as though
nothing had happened. The master-carpenter walked up to the fallen
rebel, who appeared to have been hurt when he struck the deck, though
he was in the act of getting up. Mr. Brookbine did not wait for him to
finish the act, but seized him by the nape of the neck again, and bore
him to the pilot-house.

“It is a pity we took this fellow from the island, Dory, for we can’t
trust him loose about the steamer,” said the stout Vermonter. “Is
there any place on board where I can lock him up?”

“Put him in the ice-house,” replied Dory, who was entirely willing to
have his assailant placed where he could do no more mischief.

“Let me alone!” growled Oscar, attempting to break away from the grip
of the master-carpenter.

“I will let you alone when I have locked you in the ice-house,” added
Mr. Brookbine, giving his patient several sharp twists and shakes,
which certainly did not improve his temper.

“He sneaked up behind me, or I should not have needed any help,” said
Dory, who felt that he had suffered a partial defeat in being taken by
surprise. “I am sorry I did not see him, for I think I should have
made it hot for him.”

“I shall make it hot for you before you have seen the end of this
affair. I will teach you what it is to insult your betters,” replied
Oscar. “If I don’t pitch you into the lake before I have done with
you, it will be because I can’t.”

“Any time when you are ready, let the fun begin,” added Dory, when he
had better have held his tongue.

“You will cool off in the ice-house; and we will see what you can do
in there,” continued Mr. Brookbine, as he dragged the rebel out of the
pilot-house.

“Let me alone! I don’t let anybody put his hands upon me,” yelled
Oscar, struggling to escape from the grasp of the carpenter.

“But you will be a good boy, and let me put my hands upon you, won’t
you?” added the big mechanic.

“No, I won’t! I will be the death of you if you don’t let go!”

“Steady, my boy: you are getting excited. You are wasting a great deal
of bad breath on nothing.”

The carpenter slapped his victim over a few times on the deck before
he reached the stairs to the main deck. Oscar could not stand this: he
said it hurt, and he became comparatively quiet. His tyrant walked him
down the steps. The boys on both decks gathered to witness the
exciting scene; but no one offered to interfere, and no one spoke a
word of comfort for the rebel.

“Will Orwell!” called the victim, when he saw his crony among the
spectators to his humiliation. “Come here, and help me!”

“No, I thank you! I don’t believe in butting your head against a
stonewall, and I told you not to do it beforehand.”

The carpenter opened the door of the ice-house, and thrust his
prisoner into the dark hole, as it was when the door was closed.

CHAPTER XII.

CAPTAIN GILDROCK’s FIRST LESSON IN NAVIGATION.

Mr. Brookbine secured the door of the ice-house, and put the key into
his pocket. The interior was ventilated for the benefit of the
provisions that were kept on the ice when the steamer was on a long
cruise, but there was no window or other opening which would admit a
particle of light.

“What’s the trouble, Mr. Brookbine?” asked Jepson the engineer, who
was the master-machinist and an instructor of the school.

“That is the most desperate young cub I ever happened to encounter,”
replied the carpenter, as he proceeded to relate what had happened in
the Goldwing and on board of the steamer.

“Captain Gildrock will bring him to his senses,” added the engineer,
laughing; for he believed the captain could do any thing that was
within the scope of mortal man.

“I am ready to have him begin where I leave off; but there won’t be
much left of the young rascal when I get through with him if I have to
deal with him,” replied the carpenter.

“We are likely to have a sweet time with these young fellows if many
of them are like that one,” added Mr. Jepson. “He wants to get even
with Dory, does he? I reckon Dory will be willing to give him a
chance, though I never knew of the skipper’s getting into a fight on
his own account.”

Dory had already become a great favorite at Beech Hill. He was a smart
boy, but he was not perfect by any means. He had a great deal to
learn, but he was willing to learn it. The instructors in the
scholastic department had not yet arrived, but the mechanical
directors were already his fast friends. Even the servants, of whom
there was a small army on the estate, always smiled when he went among
them; for he was invariably kind and obliging to them, and willing to
assist them by all the means in his power. Besides, he was regarded as
the heir of the magnate of Beech Hill; and it was prudent to “keep on
the right side of him.”

Of course the nine other boys who had arrived that day all talked
about the exciting events which had transpired since they left
Burlington in the forenoon. Still, no one belonging to the steamer
heard them say any thing. They made no comments on the conduct of
Oscar: possibly they were afraid they might be reported to him. But
they had learned to feel a great admiration for Dory; first, because
he was not afraid of the rebel, and, second, because he could handle a
sailboat and manage a steamer.

It was about dark when the Sylph arrived at the landing in Burlington.
Captain Gildrock was on the wharf, waiting her coming. As soon as he
went on board, Mr. Brookbine reported the case of discipline to him,
and informed him that the prisoner was confined in the ice-house.

“All right: let him stay there,” replied the captain, when he had
listened to the account of the doings of the new scholar. “Then Dory
has had a hard time of it. I was afraid he might have some
difficulty.”

“No fear for Dory,” replied the carpenter, laughing. “He can take care
of himself. He fought his own battle in the Goldwing, and won the day
every time.”

“I knew that Chester was the worst fellow in the party, but I did not
expect him to break out so soon. I am glad to hear that the others
have behaved well,” said Captain Gildrock, as he walked forward where
the boys were assembled. “How are you getting on, boys?”

“First-rate, sir,” replied several of them in the same breath.

“I am glad to hear it; and none of us will have any trouble as long as
we mean well. What you mean is more than half the battle in morals. I
did not expect you so soon, and I am afraid Dory has not looked out
for your stomachs.”

“Yes, he has, sir,” said Ben Ludlow. “He had a basket of provisions on
the boat, and we fed out of that.”

This was the lunch he had taken the night before, and it had served
over a dozen instead of two. But the boys had been so much excited by
the novel event of a sail in a fresh breeze that they were not in
condition to do justice to the rations.

When the captain learned that the scholars had eaten only the supply
of food intended for two, he took the whole party to the hotel to
supper. After Captain Gildrock and Dory returned, the engineer and
carpenter went. The latter suggested that the prisoner in the
ice-house had been forgotten.

“I shall not forget him, but he may go without his supper to-night. A
little fasting will do him good. His father and mother are both dead,
and his uncle is one of the richest men in the State. He told me that
nothing but the sharpest discipline would do him any good. He will run
away as soon as he gets a chance; and this must be prevented,” replied
the captain.

Jepson and Brookbine returned in less than half an hour. The captain
had quite a chat with the boys while they were waiting. He told them
something about his plans, and was so kind and familiar with them that
they began to like him.

“I am told that some of you have been wild boys, and have been turned
out of school,” said he. “Except in one instance, I don’t know who
they are. I prevented your parents and others from telling me any
thing about your misconduct. You are all alike to me so far, and every
boy has his own reputation to make.

“You will not be judged at all by the past, but by what you do in the
future. I want you to remember this, boys. All of you will have to
work in the shops, and wherever there is any thing to do. You will
have to learn your book-lessons as well as how to work in wood and
metal. But there will be lots of fun as well as hard work. In a few
days we shall man this steamer, and every one of you will have a
station on board of her.”

“Hurrah!” shouted one of the new pupils in his enthusiasm; and the
cheer was taken up by the entire party.

“Before winter I hope some of you will be as competent to handle a
sailboat or a steamer as Dory is. But bear in mind that it is not all
play. I am going to make useful men of you, and I hope you will second
all my endeavors.”

The arrival of the carpenter and engineer interrupted the
conversation, and in a few minutes more the Sylph was standing up the