The Cornell oarsman had paid a visit or two to the lads in their camp, coming from where he was stopping on the mainland, as his friend, whom he expected to visit on the island, had not yet opened his cottage.
Mr. Pierson gave the boys some good advice, and getting into the shell several times, practiced what he preached. He had not forgotten his early skill, and his illustrations were valuable.
“He can pull a good stroke yet,” declared Frank, one day, following some spirited instruction and practice. Mr. Pierson had left, promising to devote more time to the boys later on.
“He sure must have been a wonder in his day,” declared Tom.
It was one morning just after the lads had finished breakfast, and were getting their camp in shape for the day, preparatory to going for a row, that Tom made a momentous discovery.
He had been to the spring for a pail of water, and, on his return he noticed on the porch of the Tyler cottage a number of trunks and suitcases. Then a flutter of dresses caught his eye, and he heard a chorus of musical laughter.
“The girls have come!” cried Tom, and he raced for his own camp, as he had on a pair of old trousers and a disreputable sweater, and wanted to get in more presentable shape for making them welcome.
“The girls have come!” he cried, springing into the midst of his chums with such force that he spilled half the water. “The girls have come!”