"Yes, but, Frank, how about you taking lessons about the engine of a motor-boat? I know you've got several books on the subject since your father half promised to put a little craft on Lake Camalot next season," remarked Jerry.
"Well," laughed Frank, fairly caught, "between the lot of us it'll be strange if we don't know how to handle that dandy boat of Cousin Archie's—the Jessamine he calls her."
"Three cheers for the Jessamine, then!" said Bluff.
They were given with a will, after which the boys separated. Since this would be their last night at home for two weeks they had sensibly decided to spend it in the bosom of their families. Everything was done, at any rate, so that it was useless to bother about that matter any more.
In spite of Frank's warning it is very unlikely that any one of the four slept very soundly. The near future beckoned to them with such grand possibilities concerning the sport they loved, that they could not get it out of their minds; and innumerable plans for the happy times ahead kept their brains busy the major portion of that last night under the parental roof-trees.
Finally the morning dawned, with a light snow falling. There was a bustle in at least four homes that day, and presently the intending travelers gathered at the station long before the train was due that would take them on to Philadelphia, and then, with a change of cars, to the beckoning sunny Southland.
And when finally the parting moment came, there were hurried good-byes, the bags were thrown into the baggage car, and as the train pulled out those of their school friends who had come down to see them off, as well as their relatives, waved a shower of handkerchiefs amid a chorus of shouts.
"Hurrah!" cried Bluff, as he settled down in his seat, "we're on the way to the greatest time of our lives!"'