Fred's eyes began to beam, as they always did when he caught up some new idea.
"O Frank," he cried, "I know what we can do. But what size is she?"
"Let me see. She must be yards and yards long."
Toddie began to laugh, and so did Fred. Poor Frank was no sailor.
"Never mind, Frank. I daresay she is big enough to deck over and step a mast in, and make a yacht of. Bunko and I can do it. You have no idea how clever Bunko is. And I have tools and wood and all."
In less than a week the boat came round, and was stabled, as Frank called it, in a boat-house on the beach. The boys could do what they liked with the boat, was Mrs. Fielding's request; but they must always have a man with a lifebuoy close beside them in another boat at sea.
Bunko took the village cows to the hill; but all day long the faithful collie Keelie watched them. The dog made a rapid run homeward every day, ate his dinner, which was always ready, then back to the hills he would scud again. So until eventide, when he went to take home his charge, Bunko's time was very much his own.
The decking and fitting out of the yacht, therefore, proceeded merrily enough. A fresh keel was put on her, and a good one too. Eean himself had seen to this. The mainsail was only a storm one, there was no topsail, and just a single jib. The rudder was very safely shipped, and so, though the boys did most of the work, Eean was the real ship-builder, and safety was consulted in every detail.
When all was complete, and the craft painted and furnished, a more complete little boys' yacht it would have been difficult to conceive.
The fishermen all said she was a perfect picture, and lay like a duck on the water, with a good many other complimentary allusions, all of which were Greek to Frank, but not to Toddie and Fred.