"The tree is near the neck, and I had to climb up about ten feet to reach the hollow in which the tin box was put," replied Paul. "As the Chesterfields are expecting to have a big time in dumping the cottage into the lake, this afternoon, they may come up early. I have no doubt they will pull around here in their boats."
"Then I think we had better get away from the point as soon as possible," replied the coxswain. "We don't want to get into any row with them."
"I suppose you are not afraid of them," added Paul, laughing.
"I don't think we are, and most of the fellows wouldn't enjoy anything better than a skirmish with them," replied Dick Short. "But the student that does anything to bring on a row with them would be out of favor with the principal, and might have to spend a few days in the brig for it."
Paul had never heard of the brig, and Dick described the strong-room, or black hole, to him. The brig is the place of confinement, or prison, on board ships of war, and the principal had such an apartment in the dormitory. But there had been very little use for it since the earlier days of the school, and not half a dozen of the students had ever seen the inside of it.
"I don't see any of the Chesterfield boats," added Paul, as he looked along the shore. "By the big wooden spoon! Isn't the lake stirred up ahead of us!"
"The wind has full sweep across North West Bay, where the lake is four miles wide. It looks decidedly foamy over in Button Bay," replied Dick Short.
"By the big wooden spoon!" repeated Paul, as he rose in his seat in the stern-sheets.
"Sit down, Paul," said the coxswain, rather sharply. "We don't allow any fellow to stand up in this boat when he gets excited. What is the matter now?"
"There is a sailboat over there, and she looks as though she was tipping over!" exclaimed Paul, dropping into his seat.