III.
At last the wonderful boat was pronounced finished. It had obviously not been modeled with an eye to beauty—was flat as the barn floor, square at both ends, and entirely lacking in the curves which constitute the grace of the seabird-like craft which are the delight of yachtmen. Nevertheless, the boys were proud of it. It was their own: they had built it themselves.
"There she is, complete from bow to stern!" exclaimed Jack, with a satisfied air.
"Yes," responded Leo, admiringly. "But"—hesitating—"but—which is the bow and which the stern, you know—eh?"
"Why, this end, stupid! Don't you see I've marked it with a cross?" answered Jack.
"Perhaps I am stupid," thought Leo; "for I don't understand now how one end can be both. I wish Jack would be a little more particular about explaining a thing. It's queer how few fellows are! They jumble their words all up, and think that because they know what they mean, you ought to understand, of course."
"Well," observed Jim, quizzically, "she isn't quite as handsome as the barges on the lake in the park, that float up and down, looking like white swans. Yes, I guess she'll do."
"We didn't set out to build a gondola, to paddle children and nursery maids around in," retorted Rob, with a withering glance. "She's a good, serviceable boat, and safe—"
"Oh, safe as a tub!" agreed Jim, hastily, intending the remark as conciliatory.
"Huh! Perhaps you never tried to pilot a tub," interposed Leo. "I did the other day, just for practice, so I'd know how to row when the time came to use this here punt—if that's what you call it. Jimminy! I got tipped over into the creek, and a scolding besides when I went home! I'd be sorry to have her act like that."