"All aboard!"
The Zephyrs were more quiet and dignified in their deportment than usual. There was no loud talk, no jesting; even Fred Harper looked thoughtful and serious. Each member seemed to feel the responsibility of winning the race resting like a heavy burden upon his shoulders.
The boat was hauled out into the lake, and once more Frank cautioned them to keep cool and obey orders.
"Don't look at the Butterfly after we get started," said he. "You must permit me to keep watch of her. Keep both eyes on me, and think only of having your stroke perfectly accurate, perfectly in time with the others. Now, remember, don't look at the Butterfly; if you do, we shall lose the race. It would distract your attention and add to your excitement. If she gets two or three lengths ahead of us, as I think she will on the first mile, don't mind it. Pull your best, and leave the rest with me."
"Ay, ay!" replied several, quietly.
"Do you think we shall win, Frank?" asked Charles, who had put the same question a dozen times before.
"We must think that we shall," replied Frank, with a smile. "Here comes the Butterfly. Now, give her three cheers. One!"
"Hurrah!"
"Two!"
"Hurrah!"