With the birds in their bags, Jerry and Harry set out on the return to the landing.
On the way they talked over the great yacht races soon to come off, and also of the proposed trip through the Poplar River to the large lake beyond.
“It will be a dandy trip,” said Jerry, and then he added, with much spirit: “How I would like to sail on one of the yachts and help win.”
“So would I,” rejoined Harry. “It would be great sport, not to say anything of the honor.”
When the chums arrived at the boat-landing they found Blumpo and the others waiting for them. A camp fire was burning a short distance away from the log house, and over this the birds were done to a turn by the youth, while the others prepared some potatoes and coffee brought from the yacht.
Blumpo’s father considered it a great holiday to have his son with him for the time being. He asked Blumpo how he was getting along with his studies, and was pleased to learn that the youth was making fairly good progress.
After dinner it was decided to sail around to the lower end of the island and try bass fishing, for which the lake was famous.
“And then we’ll come back here and stay all night,” said Jerry to the old man.
The lines were soon cast off and the main-sail and jib set, and as soon as they caught the breeze they swung around and down the lake at a speed of several knots an hour.
“Somebody else out besides ourselves,” observed Jack Broxton, as he pointed to half a dozen sail-boats cruising around. “This year everybody has the yachting craze.”