The blades all struck the water as one, and not a single one touched the gunwale. Not one failed to ship his oar, or drop it into the rowlock.
"You all act like you had been made over since we met last," said Ben, rubbing his hands with delight.
"We have been studying up this thing, Uncle Ben," Fred Harper explained. "At recess every day we practised it together, and some one filled out what the others had forgotten. We have tried to be perfect."
"Glad to hear it, youngsters; and you have been very near perfect so far. Go on, Frank."
"Stand by! Give way together!"
This was the most difficult movement of the whole; but the boys, for this reason, had practised it the most in their thoughts, and in their dummy rehearsals, and it was done as well as the others had been, much to the surprise of Uncle Ben, who had been sure they would fail on this command. They did not fail, and caught the stroke as well as though they had been practising for a month. The boat went off at great speed; and Ben had hardly a word of fault to find with the rowing, though he corrected some of the individual movements. He permitted the crew to pull the whole length of the lake; but Frank, prompted by Ben, had slowed them down to the measured stroke of the cutter of a man-of-war.
"Stand by to lay on your oars!" said the coxswain, when the boat was approaching the mouth of the river. "Oars!"
The crew instantly levelled their oars, feathering the blades. Not one of them was permitted to touch the water. This manœuvre was executed quite as well as the others had been, and the boys were praised without stint by the venerable instructor.
"Give way!" said Frank, always prompted by the old sailor at his side in a low tone, so that most of the oarsmen believed that the coxswain acted on his own responsibility.
"Stand by to toss!" he continued. "Toss!"