Away up in the blue sky, and all alone, like a new declaration of independence, fluttered that soul-stirring piece of bunting, the stars and stripes. Not a sign of pole or support of any kind could the sharpest eye discern; and yet, as steadily as if fixed on the dome of the national capitol, it waved its gay stripes in the joyous breeze. It was a very mysterious flag.
There was, however, one individual who was both able and willing to clear away the mystery—a certain jovial man who, on the morning of that particular day, sat in exceedingly airy attire on the front porch of the boathouse of the Nereus Boat Club. As his striped shirt, knee-breeches, and skull-cap indicated, Captain Jack Walker was an oarsman.
He afterward explained to his faithful crew that he had gone to the boathouse early that morning, and while there had been struck with a novel idea. The result of that idea was the mysterious flag which was waving over the salt marsh by Flushing Bay, and was puzzling the brains of many good citizens.
Fastened to the top of the flagpole of the club's boathouse was the end of a piece of hempen twine. By following that piece of twine, which ran away into space at an angle of sixty degrees, the eye came at length to the floating flag. By looking closely, moreover, one could gradually discern that from the flag the twine ran up five or six hundred feet higher to a tiny kite—tiny, as seen away up there in the blue ether; but, in fact, a monster kite.
Captain Jack had first sent up that great kite which some one had left at the boathouse, and had let it out five or six hundred feet; then he took a flag about five feet long, which belonged to one of the boats, and fastened the upper end of its stick firmly to the kitestring. He next broke the lower end of the flagstick so as to leave a short projection (a), just long enough for him to fasten a piece of twine to it.
Then he again let the kite out, and also the string he had attached to the lower end of the flagstick. As soon as the flagstick was vertical, the line a, b ([see preceding page]) was knotted securely to the kitestring at b. All that was necessary then was to let out about five hundred feet more twine, and Captain Jack's Fourth-of-July kite was soon gayly flying. There was to be a regatta that afternoon, however, and the gallant oarsman could not sit idly holding a kitestring in his hand. So he hauled down the boat club's flag, tied the kitestring to the flag-halyards and then hoisted both flag and kitestring to the top of the flagpole; and so his Fourth-of-July banner floated serenely in the sky all day long,—a beautiful sight, and an object of much surprise and wonder to all who saw it.
IF.
