"LISTEN, WHAT WAS THAT?" WHISPERED FRANK.—[Page 83.]

FRANK ARMSTRONG
DROP KICKER

BY

MATTHEW M. COLTON

Author of "Frank Armstrong's Vacation," "Frank Armstrong
at Queen's," "Frank Armstrong's Second Term," etc., etc.

With Four Halftone Illustrations by
ARTHUR O. SCOTT

NEW YORK
HURST & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS

Copyright, 1912,
by
HURST & COMPANY

CONTENTS

ILLUSTRATIONS

Frank Armstrong, Drop Kicker

CHAPTER I. A NEW ENTERPRISE.

On a certain warm afternoon in the early part of July any one passing along the main street of the little summer resort of Seawall might have observed, had he chanced to glance seaward, a trim sloop riding easily at anchor, her milk-white mainsail swaying idly in the scarce-moving breeze. The water was like glass, excepting that here and there it was wrinkled for a moment by a puff of wind which passed instantly, leaving the mirror-like surface as before. Midway of the sloop's cockpit sat the Ancient Mariner himself, nodding. His back was braced against the gunwale and his pipe hung on his chest—a gentle-looking old man with a long, grizzled beard, taking his siesta as even Nature seemed to be taking hers that afternoon. His toil-worn hand hung over the gunwale, and, had one been near enough, the old man might have been heard to snore softly.

A quarter of a mile up the bay there appeared three black specks in the water. They might have been corks merely, but as they came steadily along you could have imagined them to be seals. They came nearer, swimming noiselessly, scarcely making a ripple. Now they were right alongside the sloop. Two of the seals, or whatever the dark forms were, glued themselves close under the sweep of the stern. The third swam cautiously toward the outstretched hand of the Ancient Mariner, and tweaked one of the fingers which hung within reach of any fish that might be bold enough to try a bite at the tempting morsel. Instantly the Ancient was in motion and the "seal" disappeared below the surface in a twinkling.

"Shiver my bloomin' timbers, what was that?" yelled the Mariner as he jumped to his feet. "Some ding-busted dog-fish trying to make a meal?" and he reached for his pike-pole to do execution to the attacking dog-fish.

At this burst from the Ancient there came from under the stern an answering burst of laughter. Another and still another joyful chuckle followed, and in an instant there bobbed up three heads to the astonished gaze of the occupant of the boat.

"You young rapscallions, so it wasn't a dog-fish after all," said the Ancient. And then, rubbing his eyes, he looked again. "Bust my bulkhead, if it isn't little Frank Armstrong!"

"Surest thing you know, Captain Silas," shouted Frank, treading water and keeping his hands going at the same time with a fin-like motion that held him out of the water to his shoulders. "Come on out, Jimmy; come out, Lewis; no use hiding now."

"Well, I swan!" was all Captain Silas could say, for it was indeed the old captain himself. "What are you doin' away out here in the bay? You're worse nor a parcel of fish."

"Oh, Captain," cried Jimmy Turner, shooting out from the boat on his back and splashing water in Lewis Carroll's face, "we expected to have a lot of fun, but this galoot of a Lewis had to snigger out loud, and that spoiled everything."

"You sniggered yourself," retorted Lewis.

"We couldn't help it," said Frank. "Did it scare you much, Captain?"

"Well, I reckon it wouldn't have scared me so much if I hadn't been dreaming I was hauling in a big sword-fish, and just as I was going to grab him with my gaff, up he jumps and grabs my hand. I give such a jump that I near fell out the other side o' the boat."

The boys laughed again and splashed water.

"Come on into the boat," said the captain, grinning at the joke that had been played on him. "Come on in and let's see how you look," and he held out a gnarled hand to Frank, who seized it and was soon over the side. Jimmy followed easily, but it took two of them to get Lewis aboard, who, in spite of all his athletic endeavors, continued to grow more like an ordinary washtub every day. But finally, after much tugging, they landed Lewis safely. The three swimmers sat and dripped water over Captain Silas' seats.

"Must have come into a fortune, Captain," exclaimed Frank, looking over the trim boat and aloft at the white sail, which was now swinging a little more widely with the land breeze.

"Oh, no," was the reply. "Couldn't make much outen my old fishing job, so I took my little nest-egg outen the bank and put it in this here boat."

"Going pirating?" inquired Jimmy.

"Not 'xactly that, kinder social piratin' maybe. I carry the city swells that want to go fer a sail. It pays better nor lobsters."

"Just a different kind of lobster, eh?" broke in Lewis.

"I take parties out for sails at twenty-five cents the head," continued the captain, not noticing the interruption by Lewis, "but it's been bad business these last two or three days, not a breeze big enuff to blow a han'kerchief. So I was havin' a snooze when you fellers give me such a start," and the old man grinned pleasantly. "But it's breezin' up a bit now and maybe we can have a sail before the sun goes down. Want to come?"

"You bet we do!" was the simultaneous response of the three, who had scattered themselves comfortably around on the little deck forward with their faces up to the blue sky.

"Hadn't you better go and git some clothes on your backs? You'll freeze to death in them there skinny little bathing suits of yours."

"Oh, no, we'll be as warm as toast. See, our suits are nearly dry. We've put in most of the time these last two weeks in these rigs and we're used to it," said Frank.

The breeze was picking up every minute, and the captain, casting an eye to the pier end without seeing any prospective passengers, and apparently nothing loth to have back with him again the three spirited youngsters, began to pull up his anchor and make ready. In this the boys helped, and soon the sloop was heading off down the bay careening to the freshening breeze.

"Gee whiz!" sighed Jimmy, prone on his back and stretched out like a star-fish, arms and legs extended, "but this beats school all hollow."

"And what ye been doin' at school? Learnin' your lessons, I s'pose?" said the captain, who had heard the remark. "S'pose your heads are just crammed full of knowledge, eh?"

"Not exactly that," replied Frank, grinning. "There are a lot of blank spaces in my cranium that haven't been touched yet. But Lewis is fearfully educated."

"Yes," added Jimmy jokingly, "he's what they call a high-stand man."

"Wouldn't think it," said the old man, scrutinizing Lewis closely. "I'd say he was a wide-stand man," still looking Lewis over critically. Frank and Jimmy laughed heartily at this, and the captain joined in when it was explained to him that this particular kind of stand had nothing to do with the physique.

"I say, Captain," said Frank, coming down from the deck to where Captain Brown sat at the tiller, "can't we do something to help you run the ship?"

"She don't need no running mor'n she's doin' now. All you got to do is just keep 'er steddy, same's I'm doin' now. You're not big enuff to steer. I'm 'fraid she'd wallop ye all about in a heavy sea."

"Oh, I don't mean sailing her; I'm not much on that. But couldn't we help with the passengers? Couldn't we put up the gangplank or put it down or whatever you do with it?" continued Frank. "We are three husky fellows, and we want to do something to keep in training."

"Trainin', what fer?" said the old man.

"Oh, just training for football. We want to be ready for the fall and have our muscles hard and our wind good."

"Yes," broke in Lewis, "we are going to be on the football team this fall up at Queen's School. Frank is going to be drop kicker, and I——"

"Oh, ho," laughed Jimmy from his place up in the bow-sprit, where he had just stretched himself full length, face downward, with his legs coiled about the timber to keep himself from rolling into the sea, "did you hear Lewis say 'we'? Lewis has to keep in condition, so please, Captain, give him some heavy work to do; let him spank the spinnaker and reef the anchor and splice the jib-boom."

"I could do any of them," said Lewis, throwing out his chest; and the captain chuckled.

"I tell you," he said, "we can let Lewis dust the mains'l; that would give him good exercise. But leavin' jokin' behind, ef ye want somethin' to do, why don't you get a motor boat and take out people for little runs among the islands here, same as I do? Lots o' people want to go quicker nor I can go, but I wouldn't touch one of the pesky things."

"By jiminy!" exclaimed Frank, "that's an idea!"

"Yes, and where's your motor boat coming from?" said Jimmy. "Motor boats cost something, and I don't see any good, kind gentleman coming around handing us one."

"We might hire one," said Lewis, "and pay the rent from our profits. If we had luck we might be able to buy her by fall."

"Yes, and a house and lot and two yachts," said Jimmy, who was skeptical about the plan.

"Guess I know where you boys might pick up one cheap," broke in the captain, as he dexterously swung the boat over on the starboard tack and headed her up the bay. "Old man Simpkins has a motor boat he hasn't used for mor'n a year. It's layin' hitched up to his wharf down Turner's Point way."

"Oh, I know who he is," said Frank. "Lives in that big house by the pine grove a little way this side of the Point."

"That's the feller," said the captain. "Has a little girl, all kinder crippled up with some disease or other. Comes down to sail with me two or three times a week. Had a son at college who died of fever or something. It was his boat. That's the reason the boat's never used, I guess; old gentleman don't care for it no more."

"Great whippoorwills, but there's our chance!" said Frank. "Jimmy, get over your pessimism and think up some scheme for renting that boat. Why, man," as Jimmy just grinned, "there's millions in it. We'll organize a company."

"I'll be with you on condition that you'll let me steer it," said Jimmy. "You can be captain if you want to."

"All right, my son, you may, and I'll take care of the motor," said Frank. "That's a job for the best man."

"And what am I to be?" said Lewis. "Can't I be skipper, or something like that?"

"You'll be the ballast," said Jimmy, grinning from his perch on the bow-sprit. He had turned over on his back now and was balancing precariously, one toe hooked in a coil of rope at the foot of the mast being his only anchorage from a bath in the cool green sea racing along a couple of feet below him.

"We are talking as if we had the boat in commission already. But 'nothing venture, nothing have,' as the old saying goes. I'm going down to-morrow to see Mr. Simpkins and try my powers of persuasion on him."

"Beware of the dog," warned Jimmy.

"Dog or no dog, I'm going to try."

"What's this navigation company going to be called?" inquired Lewis.

"The name will be the 'Queen's Ferry,'" said Frank.

"Sounds like an old English romance, but it's good," commented Jimmy; "the Queen's Ferry, Armstrong, Captain, Carroll, first mate——"

"I don't want to be first mate," corrected Lewis. "I want to be a skipper."

"Well, if you want to have such a lively name go ahead and take it. If skipper means anything speedy, you've got the most terrifically misplaced confidence in yourself I ever saw,—but if you must, you must, so you are to be the skipper."

"And James Turner will be first mate and helmsman," said Frank.

"Aye, aye, sir," came the response.

"Now, that being done, we've got to have an agent to drum up our business, to see that the great and waiting public may know that at last in Seawall there is a proper conveyance; a guide and courier, a kind of advertising man who will present our magnificent possibilities in transportation."

The three boys looked at each other.

"The Codfish!" they shouted in chorus.

"The Codfish is the man. And he's coming to visit me in a week," added Frank.

"Too long to wait," said Jimmy, shaking his head. "We are losing profits every minute. Let's telegraph him to come now. 'Do it now'—or before—is my motto."

"Good!" said Frank; "we'll telegraph to-night and offer him the job. Let's see, this is Thursday; we ought to begin our trips Monday. Yes, Monday's the best day to begin anything on. We might get started on Saturday if the Codfish comes right away."

"Did you kids ever hear tell of countin' chickens before they was hatched?" broke in the voice of Captain Silas. "You haint got the boat yit," and the old man chuckled. "But that's the way youth do run on. And then how about drivin' poor old Captain Silas Brown out of bisness with one o' them fast motor boats?"

"Oh, Captain, do you think it would hurt your trade? We wouldn't do it for the world. We'll give it up. I didn't think of that," cried the generous boys in a breath.

"Go along with you, 'twon't hurt me. I was only jokin'. There'll be more than we all can do and I'm a thinkin' you'll get tired of it pretty quick. I'll help you all I can to git hold of the old boat, but don't ever ask me to go to sea in one o' the consarned things. 'Member what happened to your old boat last year?"

The boys looked at each other.

"You bet we do!" they exclaimed in a breath.

"But there are to be no matches aboard any boats I command in the future," cried Frank.

"Well, here we are back again," said the captain, as he brought the Seagull, for such was her name, up into the wind. "I'll take you off in my dinghy in a minnit."

"Thank you, Captain, for a fine sail and a brilliant idea, and we won't bother you to take us off; we have our fins," said Frank. "See you later," and one after the other the boys popped into the water like so many porpoises, and, led by Frank, swimming a graceful and easy overhand, they went ploughing up the beach in the direction of the Armstrong cottage.

"Water rats, nuthin' but derned water rats," said the old man, as his kindly eye followed the three swimmers pulling rapidly away towards the shore.

CHAPTER II. FAILURE AND A PROVIDENTIAL RESCUE.

"Dad," said Frank that night at the supper table, "we boys are going into the transportation business. Got any objection?"

"Into the what?" said Mr. Armstrong, pausing in the act of filling his healthy son's plate for the second time.

"Transportation, if you please, sir," said Frank, grinning and reaching for the full dish. "It's like this: Old Captain Silas says there are lots of people about here who want to take little cruises around the islands these fine days. That's condition No. 1."

"Condition No. 1," repeated his father, smiling. "Go on."

"And condition No. 2 is, three strong, husky, able-bodied seamen, Jimmy Turner, Lewis, and your dutiful son, who want to make some money and keep ourselves busy at the same time."

"What about Old Captain Silas himself?" inquired Mrs. Armstrong. "Can't he take care of all the excursionists himself? Or does he want to take you boys into partnership?"

"No, mother, this is going to be a rapid passenger service," and in a few words he outlined the plan put into his head that afternoon by the old captain's remark. "The only things we need now are a ship and a manager."

"Not much, is it?" said Mr. Armstrong, laughing. "Perhaps Colonel Powers would let you have his yacht."

"Oh, dad, I'm not joking. We are in a fair way to have both. At least we know where there's a motor boat, and the Codfish was born to be a manager of the outfit. It is providential. We'll get him here ahead of time."

"Where's your motor boat?" inquired Mrs. Armstrong, smiling indulgently at her son's eagerness.

"It is anchored down the shore a ways, belongs to Mr. Simpkins, and we're going to tackle him to-morrow. I think I can show him," added Frank, cocking his head on one side, wisely, "that there would be good money in it for him to rent it. We can charge twenty-five cents a head for all passengers. Let's see," counting on his fingers, "we ought to be able to carry half a dozen besides our crew if the boat's any size,—that'd be a dollar and a half for a trip of an hour. And we can make four or five trips a day, sure. That'd be seven dollars and fifty cents a day, and, six days a week, that'd be about forty-five dollars," triumphantly. "Running expenses ought not to be more than fifteen dollars, and that would leave thirty dollars to divvy up between the four of us." Frank's ambitions were running away with him. "And besides that, we'd have a better time than doing nothing. Can't we do it, dad?"

"Well, I don't see any very strong objections," returned Mr. Armstrong, smiling at his wife across the table, "but if you are figuring on that boat of Mr. Simpkins' I wouldn't build my scheme too high, for it might tumble. Mr. Simpkins wouldn't probably be interested in dividends, for he has a pile of money, and, besides that, he is a pretty crusty old gentleman."

"Crusty or no crusty, we are going down to see him in the morning, provided you and mother don't say no." It was finally agreed in the family that there would be no objection.

"They will soon get tired of it, mother," said Mr. Armstrong, "and it's dollars to pins that Mr. Simpkins will set the dog on them instead of handing over his motor boat, even though he doesn't use it himself."

"And only one thing more," cried Frank, in great glee that his parents threw no obstacle in the way of the Queen's Ferry Company. "The Codfish is coming down to make us a visit next week. Can't we have him down right away? We need his head in this big venture."

"Glad to have him come along. We would like to see this wonderful roommate of yours, wouldn't we, mother?" said Mr. Armstrong.

"Whoop!" shouted Frank, "then we'll telegraph. I'm off to meet the other officers of the company."

The result of the conference between the captain, the helmsman, and the skipper was that this telegram was dispatched to the Codfish:

"Big transportation company formed. You are elected manager. No work, big profits. Come on next train.

"(Signed) Frank, Lewis, Jimmy."

About the middle of the next forenoon the boys met at the Armstrong household and girt up their loins, or, in other words, nerved themselves for the negotiations with Mr. Simpkins.

"You do the talking, Frank," said Jimmy. "You have the gift of gab. I'll guard the way and Lewis can protect us from the dog."

"Protect nothing," said Lewis. "I'm too important a member of this company to fatten any bulldogs in this neighborhood."

"If any one is to be sacrificed on this expedition, it might as well be you," retorted Jimmy. "Skippers are always the first to be sacrificed."

Bantering each other, the three boys made their way down the shore walk, and boldly ascended the path to the big yellow house where Mr. Simpkins lived in solitary grandeur. They might have retreated before this point had not they strengthened their drooping spirits with a hurried inspection of the motor boat moored to the little pier. A long, racy-looking boat it was, lying close on the water and with every evidence of speed. The lines swept back from the bow in a graceful curve to a rather full beam at midships, and then swung in slightly as they approached the stern, ending abruptly in a square hull. The motor was covered by a rubber tarpaulin, and so they were not able to tell much about it. A generous bulk testified, however, to ample power to drive the craft at high speed. A kind of canvas awning partially protected the interior woodwork of the boat, but in spite of this the craft had a forlorn appearance.

"She's a little the worse for weather, but she's a beauty in spite of it," exclaimed Frank, as he looked her over. "She has The Foam knocked galley-west," he added.

"That's a fact," was Jimmy's only comment. He thought of the poor old Foam lying at the bottom out in the bay there.

"Well, here goes," said Frank, and he led the way up the wide and imposing steps of the Simpkins homestead. "Here's where the Queen's Ferry Transportation Company sees the light or is buried thirty fathoms under. 'Screw up your courage to the sticking point,' as Hamlet said, and follow me." The big door opened to their ring and they stepped within in a huddled group.

Ten minutes later three dejected youths might have been seen making their way slowly towards Seawall. Disappointment was written deeply on each countenance. "He's what I call an old skinflint," said Jimmy savagely. "Didn't want the boat, wouldn't sell it, or lend it, or rent it," and he kicked an inoffensive shell out of the track.

"A regular dog-in-the-manger," commented Lewis.

"Well, that's settled, anyway," said Frank, taking a long breath. "We've no ship, and of course we can't sail without a ship."

In their disappointment the boys hunted up Captain Silas Brown, who was hoisting his mainsail to the breeze and preparing for the prospective trippers. The old man listened to their story.

"I'll tell you what I'll do," he said. "I need some one to help me out fer a day or two with this old craft. I've got a touch of the rheumatiz, and I'm not so smart as I might be."

Together they talked it all over and decided that that very afternoon the boys were to ship as able-bodied seamen. This somewhat cheered the officers of the defunct Queen's Ferry Company.

Suddenly Frank sprang up. "Great Scott, fellows, we forgot to telegraph the Codfish! No use of him coming now. Let's wire him the disaster. We don't want to get him here under false pretenses."

The three boys hurried off to the telegraph office. Arrived there, they called for a blank and Frank was just getting the sad information down in the form of a telegram, when the clerk behind the counter said: "You're the fellows who sent a message to G. W. Gleason at Yarmouth this morning?"

"Yes."

"Well, here's an answer. It has just come in, pretty quick work that."

Frank tore the end off the yellow envelope, for it was addressed to him, and read:

"Don't care for the salary, too much money already, but the job with no work appeals to me. I'll be at Seawall to-morrow night at six o'clock if the train stays on the track.

"(Signed) The Codfish."

"Well, here's a pickle! But never mind, I know mother and father won't mind," said Frank. "So let him come." The Codfish was a great favorite with the three, in spite of his sharp tongue and rather unusual ways. They were not sorry that he was coming.

That afternoon our trio reported to Captain Silas Brown just as he was making up his party of voyagers at the end of Seawall pier. It turned out to be a gallant sailing day. A steady wind blew from the southwest, making the Seagull dance merrily alongside the float to which the captain had drawn her to take on his passengers, of whom there were an unusually large number, attracted probably by the fair prospects for the afternoon. They were mostly women and children, and the three new assistants made themselves very useful at lending a hand as the passengers stepped into the rocking sloop. Soon all were aboard and the mooring ropes were cast off. The sloop moved swiftly away down the bay under the guidance of Captain Silas on what proved to be an eventful voyage. The day was a glorious one, and the wind strong enough to heel the Seagull over till her bright green underbody showed well above the water on the windward side. Every now and then a stronger puff of wind laid the Seagull so far over that her lee side was buried under the foaming water. But the passengers had confidence in the steady hand of Captain Silas, and chatted merrily, for the cockpit was protected from wave tops by a high wooden edge, and there was apparently no danger. The occasional dash of spray which came aboard was just enough to add zest to the outing, and the passengers enjoyed the lively dance of the sloop over the rolling water.

FRANK TURNED JUST IN TIME TO SEE A FLASH OF WHITE DISAPPEARING BENEATH THE SURFACE.—[Page 27.]

All of a sudden, when rounding the point off High Island, there came a violent blast of wind which plucked the hat from the head of a little girl who had sat all the while very quietly with her maid on the leeward side of the sloop. She jumped to her feet, made a desperate grab for the flying head-covering, lost her balance, and pitched head first into the water. She was lost to sight in an instant, a big wave breaking over her head as she went down.

At the scream of the maid, Frank, who had been standing on the little deck forward with one arm around the mast, turned just in time to see a flash of white disappearing beneath the surface.

"She is drowned! She is drowned!" screamed the maid, jumping to her feet and wringing her hands wildly. "Oh, she's drowned!" The other women in the boat began to scream and point to the place where the little girl had gone down.

With Frank, to think was to act. Without waiting to throw off any clothes, he made a flying leap for the spot where he had last seen the white dress; but so great had been the momentum of the boat, that when he struck the water he was some yards away from the spot. Hampered as he was with his clothes and hindered by the breaking waves, he swam desperately, using his most powerful strokes. Before he could cover the distance he saw a white sleeve and the top of a head appear above the surface for an instant and disappear immediately. Half a dozen strokes carried him to the place, but the drowning girl had gone down for the second time.

For a few moments only, Frank paddled around waiting for the child to come to the surface. He had heard that a drowning person comes to the surface three times. "I won't risk it," he said to himself. "She may never come up again, and the water must be deep here." He stopped swimming, turned his back to the waves, took a deep breath, and dived straight for the bottom.

How cold and strange it felt, and how quiet after the tumult he had left above him! The impulse of his dive soon ended, and yet there was no bottom, so he began to swim straight downward. His eyes were open and he could see quite plainly within a radius of ten feet. Straining his eyes, he looked into the gloomy depths as he swam. What was that gleam of white far below him? It must be the girl's dress. How his head cracked with the pressure of the water, but on he went downward, ever downward. He was below the clear light, but the thought that he was nearing the drowning child gave him the power of a grown man. He swam on almost blindly, and with the strength of despair, because he knew it was the only chance to save a life. In the blackness of the depths he lost the gleam of white, then recovered it, lost it again, and after two or three strokes touched something which felt like seaweed. His hand closed instinctively, although he could see nothing now, and he realized with a great feeling of joy that it was the child's hair which had floated upward. He wound his hand securely in it, and struck madly for the surface with splitting head and bursting lungs.

It could only have been a few seconds, but to Frank it seemed an eternity before his head bobbed into the clear sunlight and he was able to take a great gulping breath. He felt as weak as a baby, but he had strength enough to pull his burden to the surface and turn on his back.

"Good boy," said a voice behind him. "Let me take her. Look out for yourself." Frank turned his head and saw Jimmy at his elbow. He resigned the little girl, who showed no signs of life, to his friend, and lay panting on the surface, the water breaking over him every now and then. He had barely strength left to work his hands fin-like to keep afloat, while Captain Silas maneuvered the sloop back to the spot where the two boys were struggling in the water. Soon life buoys were thrown out to them, and a minute later the sloop, with her head to the wind and her mainsail snapping and cracking, lay close alongside.

In a jiffy the unconscious girl, Frank, and Jimmy were pulled aboard the boat, where Frank lay gasping like a fish out of water. Well acquainted with and skilled in the methods of resuscitation, the old captain worked over the little girl, who lay as limp as a rag on the deck while the maid wept hysterically and several of the other women cried in sympathy.

"Ding bust it," cried the old man at last, "what ye crying about? She's not drownded, I tell ye. She's coming to." And the captain was right. First there was a little quiver of the eyelids, then a faint sigh from her lips, and finally a soft moan.

"Thank God!" said the captain. "The pore little girl will be all right in a few minutes. But I say, it was a narrow squeak. Frank Armstrong, you deserve the Carnegie medal for that same trick."

Frank was on his feet again, and, although white and a little sick, he was able to help Jimmy with the tiller, while the captain kept up his ministrations to the little girl, who opened her eyes at last and looked about her.

"You'll be sound as a dollar in half an hour," said the captain, as he finally turned her over to the maid, who had by this time quieted down. Captain Silas went aft and took the tiller from the boys.

"That was a good turn you did for old man Simpkins," he observed. "That's his little girl you saved from a watery death. Guess he'll feel different about that motor boat now," and the old captain smiled grimly.

Before the Seagull reached the dock the participators in what had nearly been a tragedy were rapidly recovering. Frank was still wobbly on his legs, but quickly recovered his spirits. "Thank you, old man," he said to Jimmy as they disembarked. "If it hadn't been for you, both of us would have gone down. I didn't have the strength to keep even myself up and I wouldn't have let her go down alone." The two friends gave a silent pressure of the hand.

"It was nothing," said Jimmy. "I went after you as quickly as I could. It seemed to me you were down fully five minutes, and I had about given you up when your head bobbed through the surface."

"Seemed to me I was down about an hour, and I guess I must have been fifteen or twenty feet under when I got her. But it's all over now, and I'm glad."

The gallant rescue was the talk of Seawall that night. Captain Silas sat at the end of the pier with a group around him, and Frank's daring deed lost nothing by the captain's telling. But Frank was silent on the matter himself and denied that he had done anything to talk about. From him, his father and mother could only get the bare facts that he had jumped overboard and pulled in a little girl who had had the bad luck to fall into the water.

CHAPTER III. QUEEN'S TRANSPORTATION COMPANY.

The six o'clock train the next night brought with it the Codfish in all his glory. He was radiant in a natty gray flannel suit, and sported a lavender tie and socks to match, with a dash of the same color in his hat band.

"Welcome to our city, Codfish!" shouted Frank, who with Jimmy and Lewis had been at the station long before the train from the north was due.

"Gentlemen," returned that individual as he descended mincingly from the parlor car, while a porter dragged two great suit-cases stuffed to bursting after him, "I am charmed with this reception. But where's the band?"

"The only one I see," said Jimmy laughingly, "is the one on your hat, and it sounds like a flock of trombones. Don't you know you are liable to shock these sedate villagers with that raiment of yours? You might be arrested as a disturber of the peace."

"You see in me not a shocker," replied the visitor, "but the great animator. Business will pick up as soon as I am well established in your rural midst. Children cry for me and all that sort of thing. But what's this job you have for me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry to say it's all off. We were about to telegraph you again to stay where you were, when we had your message saying you were coming."

"All right, I'll take the next train back."

"You'll take nothing back for about three weeks. We'll tell you what we had up our sleeve. Here, Jones"—to the village expressman—"take these miniature trunks down to my father's house," said Frank. "We'll walk, if you feel able to take so much exercise, Mr. Gleason."

"Not used to it, of course, but I'll make an exception this time. Now, fire away on this scheme of yours."

As they trudged along, Frank, aided by Jimmy and occasionally by Lewis, told of the conception and the smash of the scheme. "But never mind," he added, "we can find enough to do. We'll teach you to swim like a fish——"

"No, you won't. I'm not a fish in spite of my name. I will fight before I'll swim, and goodness knows I'd hate to fight, for it's most exhausting."

The boys all laughed at the whimsical Codfish, for they all knew that he wasn't half so backward in athletic things as he tried to persuade them that he was.

"Hello," said Frank, giving a whistle of surprise as he approached the house. "We have company. By crickets, it is—it is Mr. Simpkins! Now, I wonder if his little girl hasn't got over her ducking yet."

"Principal people of the village here undoubtedly to welcome me," said the Codfish. "'Spose I'll have to make a speech and all that sort of thing. Beastly bore; you shouldn't have let them know I was coming."

By this time Frank had mounted the steps of the house. "This is my son Frank, Mr. Simpkins," said Mr. Armstrong.

Frank came forward and received a hearty handclasp from Mr. Simpkins. "My boy," said the latter, "when you were at my house this morning, I little thought that I'd have to thank you for saving my daughter's life. I do thank you from the bottom of my heart, and I want to ask your pardon for my seeming bluntness this morning."

"Oh, that was all right, sir. I happened to be handy to-day and helped to pull the little girl out of the water. That was all. And as for the motor boat, it was a matter of business and we couldn't come to terms. No one's fault."

Mr. Simpkins smiled at the businesslike youngster who talked so clearly to the point. "Well, I appreciate your quality more now than I did this morning, and I've come up not only to thank you, but to tell you that the motor boat you want is yours."

"Oh, I couldn't think of taking it! I did nothing to earn it," said Frank, much embarrassed by the kindly tone and offer.

"Now I insist," said the visitor. "The boat is doing me no good whatsoever, and you might as well have it. It belonged to a son of mine who is gone, and I haven't had the heart to let it be used or even to sell it. In view of the obligation you have placed me under, my boy, I can square things with you partially, at least, by giving you the boat. It has not been used much and I'm sure it is in good condition. If it is not in good condition, I'll put it that way, so you can begin your transportation, as you call it, at once."

"I'm awfully much obliged," said Frank, "but it's too much of a gift for what I did. Won't you let us buy it from you?" There was a sound of muffled protest from the boys at the other end of the veranda where they had withdrawn, although still within earshot of the conversation that was going on.

"The boy is right, Mr. Simpkins, it is too much of a gift," said Mr. Armstrong. "I think his argument is good."

"Well, then," said Mr. Simpkins, turning again to Frank, "make me an offer. I'm willing to sell to you and in some way discharge some of my debt. You are willing to buy, I think you said this morning."

"Yes, sir, but I'm afraid it would cost too much for us."

"I don't know," said the old gentleman; "the boat's not doing me any good. Let's see; I'd sell her for a hundred dollars and put her in running shape. How's that? And you can pay me half of that amount at the end of this summer and the other half a year later. Will you take her?"

There was a murmur of approval at the other end of the veranda, and Frank, as soon as he could find his voice, exclaimed: "You bet we'll take her! I mean—thank you, sir; we will take her on those conditions." Mr. Simpkins smiled slyly at Mr. Armstrong, who, being later appealed to by his son, readily gave his consent to the deal, adding, "And I'll back Frank and his chums in this venture."

"I can already see that I'm dealing with a young man who will make good his word," said Mr. Simpkins. "And now I must be going. I'll have a man look over the boat to-morrow morning, and if everything is all right with the engine you can take possession at once. I'll have my man show you how to run her, but I imagine it won't take you long to learn. Good night, all."

You can readily imagine the jubilee that took place when Mr. Simpkins was out of hearing. The four boys grabbed each other and danced a wild Highland fling. Mr. and Mrs. Armstrong looked on laughing as the boys thumped each other on the back and shouted.

"Boys, boys, you won't leave a board in the veranda, and the neighbors will think you've taken leave of your senses," admonished Mrs. Armstrong. "And, anyway, it's time for supper, and Mr. Gleason must be hungry after his long ride."

"Dear old mum, you would dance, too, wouldn't you, if you had just bought a ship for a song, same as we have? Here, salute the captain of the new Transportation Company!" His mother slipped her arm over her son's shoulder and kissed him gravely on the cheek: "Thus I salute Captain Armstrong."

"That's the best salute ever, mother. Better than twenty-one guns in the navy."

"And where do we come in, in these salutes," said the Codfish. "Aren't we important members of the company?"

"I could kiss you all, to-day," said the motherly woman; "I'm so happy for your sakes. But there goes the bell. We'll have something more substantial than salutes."

There was great planning at that supper of passenger carrying, swimming, racing and the like, things that all energetic boys on a summer vacation would enjoy.

"If David were only here our party would be complete," said Jimmy.

"And where is he?" inquired Gleason.

"We hope he'll be in Seawall next month. He is in Europe now," returned Frank; "and we will keep our purchase a secret from him at present. When he gets back we will suddenly burst on his vision in all our glory."

"Good old David," said Jimmy; "won't he be glad? We can take him along as member of the crew. He'd make a ripping coxswain."

"I don't know what a coxswain has to do, but he'd be all right for any job," said Lewis.

"And with all this crew you propose," said Mr. Armstrong, "where are you going to put your passengers?"

"Oh, don't worry about that, Dad; she's a big boat. Wait till you see her. Are you willing to advance us running expenses for gasoline and oil till we get our first money on fares?"

"Provided it isn't more than a hundred dollars a day," returned his father, laughing.

The next morning was spent down at the Simpkins wharf with the mechanic. There was little to do. The motor was one of the best types, but while it had been idle it had acquired some rust. The pistons stuck hard in the cylinders for a time, but they were soon freed and the engine turned over as smoothly as the day it left the shop. When the batteries were renewed, the carburetor adjusted and the gas and oil tanks filled, the mechanic gave the fly wheel a sharp turn. Instantly there was an explosion; another and another followed, and as the motor picked up speed under the careful manipulation of the mechanic, the explosions from the exhaust settled down into a steady purr.

"That's a peach of an engine," said Frank to the mechanic. "How much speed do you think the boat has?"

"Dunno," replied the mechanic; "mebby twenty miles, mebby more. Don't think there's many around here that'll get away from her very much. Now we're ready to see how she goes."

The ropes which fastened the motor boat to the pier were thrown off and slowly the craft was backed from her berth.

"Take the wheel," said the mechanic, indicating Frank, "and I'll look after the motor. We'll see what she can do."

Frank sprang to the wheel and after a little maneuvering headed her down the bay. "She steers like a bicycle," he cried. "Gee whiz, isn't it great?"

As the speed increased, the boat lifted her nose clear out of the water under the push from the powerful motor, and a white-capped wave rolled away from either side. They passed several sailing boats that seemed almost motionless by contrast. Frank ranged up alongside another motor boat bound in the same direction and soon left it in the distance. Then, after a long, sweeping turn, he headed back to the wharf, where Mr. Simpkins stood.

"She's all right, I see," said that gentleman, "and evidently hasn't lost her speed."

"I should say she hadn't," said Frank. "We went like an express train. Are you sure you still want to hold to your bargain, Mr. Simpkins?"

"Oh, yes; I'm glad my old boat has fallen into such appreciative hands. Maybe I'll take a ride with you, when you have begun your ferry service. She isn't as handsome as she was before the weather got at her sides, but a lick of paint here and there will repair all the damage."

"If our profits are big enough, we can lay her up this winter and give her a new dress," suggested Jimmy; "but there's no time now."

"If you are satisfied that you can run her," continued Mr. Simpkins, "and she is ready, there's no reason you can't take her now. What do you say?"

"Say? Why, we say yes, if you don't mind. We can be getting used to her before we begin to make business runs. How about it, mates?" said Frank, turning to his crew.

Of course the crew were of one mind. The mechanic was landed on the pier, and under the hands of her new crew, the Black Duck, for that was the name of the craft, shot once more into the sparkling waters of the bay. This time Jimmy was at the wheel and Frank manipulated the motor.

Halfway to the Seawall pier the boys met the Seagull, with a party aboard. Jimmy swung in close and the crew of the motor boat gave such a yell as startled the old salt at the tiller of the Seagull.

"Well, I'll be swizzled," they heard him say as they flashed by, and turning, with his arm on the tiller, he waved a friendly hand as they dashed on.

Before the day was over the boys had familiarized themselves thoroughly with their new possession, and the farther they went the more wonderful did they consider their luck in having such a craft.

The next morning the town of Seawall was startled in its morning walk by notices posted conspicuously as follows:

QUEEN'S TRANSPORTATION COMPANY.

A marvellous opportunity
to see the magnificent scenery
of Seawall Bay by motor boat.
Roomy accommodations.
Courteous attendants.
Every convenience.
For the small sum
of 25 cents.
Start made from Seawall Pier every hour.
First trip 10 a. m. to-day.
Per order

BOARD OF DIRECTORS.

The notice was prepared by the ready pen of the Codfish, and it was given an added interest by a slap-dash drawing of a motor boat coasting down the side of a big wave, while little fishes and big fishes stood on their tails in astonishment. Of course, every one who read went down to the pier at the hour named, and the young navigators started out on their first trip with every seat taken. During the trip the Codfish acted as a kind of guide to the party and pointed out the "magnificent scenery," adding many fictitious details as the Black Duck plowed along. The passengers, when landed at the starting point after an hour's trip, voted it the best ride they had ever taken and made way for a new boatload.

It was a day of rushing business for the new company, and the profits before nightfall came to something over ten dollars.

CHAPTER IV. BURTON'S ARRIVAL.

This first day of business was the index of many days to come, and the money rolled in rapidly. "A little while more, fellows, and we will own half of her," said the captain, as they laid up to the pier one fine day waiting for passengers.

"Which half, Captain," inquired the Codfish; "bow or stern?"

"Never mind which," returned Frank. "You keep on with your superb management and we will have a property here worth while. Here comes another load for us. There's about two dollars in this for us. Hustle up, my hearties, and be ready to lend a hand, Fatty." This to Lewis, who never disturbed himself unless under orders. Lewis crawled laboriously over the gunwale onto the float.

"Well, well, well," said a young man of the party who had just come upon the float. "If my eyes do not deceive me, the captain of that ocean-going motor boat is none other than my old friend, Frank Armstrong!"

Frank, who had been fussing with the motor, raised his head. "Mr. Burton!" he exclaimed. "Glad to see you! I didn't know you were around here."

"I can say the same to you. How long have you been a navigator?" he added, as the party of young folks climbed aboard. "And there's Jimmy and your little fat friend. My, this is quite a reunion. Arrived only a day or two ago."

The boys grinned their pleasure at the meeting.

"Do any swimming now?" said Burton as the boat got under way.

"Oh, yes, we take the mornings for that. We do a little in athletics up at Queen's School and we're kept in training, especially for football."

"Oh, yes, you are a Freshman up there."

"No, we are in our second year," said Jimmy proudly.

"I beg your pardon," said Burton, laughing; "it is hard to be taken for a Freshman when you've got away beyond that unhappy period. Now, it is fortunate, Frank, you've kept up your swimming, because I want you to come down to Turner's Point next week and show some of those fellows how we used to swim down in Florida. Can you come?"

"Can't leave my transportation job very well," replied Frank.

"Oh, hang your transportation job! There will be no one to transport that day. Every one will be down to the carnival. You know what a crowd we had last year, and it's going to be a bigger affair than ever. There'll be lots of people to come down from Seawall. Why don't you run a special excursion, swim in the meet and take your crowd back home in the evening? There you are, business and pleasure combined."

"Sounds good to me," said Frank. "How about it for you, Jimmy, and you, Codfish and Lewis?"

"Oh, come along," said Burton. "I'll put you down, Frank, in the hundred-yard race or anything you want to go in for. They've made me master of ceremonies again. And you will be interested to know that your old rival, Peters, is back at the Point and swimming better than ever. He's been practicing, he told me, hoping for the chance to get back at you. Don't you want to take another fall out of him?"

Frank's eyes brightened. "I wouldn't mind," he added slowly. "I'm stronger than I was a year ago, but I don't know that I've improved the stroke you taught me."

"I'm sure it's all right," said the buoyant Burton. "I'll come up to-morrow morning and see what you've been doing in the way of speed, and after looking you and Jimmy over I can tell the distance you can swim best. Is it a go?"

"It's a go for me," said Frank.

"Me, too," said Jimmy.

"Ditto," said Lewis.

"And how about Mr. Gleason?" said Burton.

"The Codfish, in spite of his name, hates the water except in the bathtub," said Jimmy. "But he'd be a fine scorer, eh, Codfish?"

"Anything the captain says is good enough for me," said the Codfish. "He's the boss. I'm on a salary and under orders."

"Well, you can be an ornament to the stake boat, or the float, or anywhere you want to be. It's settled that you are to come?" said Burton.

The boys nodded. Burton went back to his party and the boys gave their attention wholly to navigation to the end of the trip.

"Don't forget, now; I'm going to be up your way in the morning. Be all ready in your suits," Burton called back over his shoulder, as with his friends he left the Seawall pier.

Next morning the boys met early at the old swimming place and were splashing about trying various strokes, when Burton's black head showed in the water a quarter of a mile off shore.

"By the great horn spoon," said Jimmy, "there he is, swimming up, and it's nearly a mile from the Point."

"He must be a wonder," said the Codfish; "I wouldn't take all that exercise if you were to give me the Black Duck and all her feathers. But there's no accounting for tastes. I'm overcome thinking how much energy he is wasting." The Codfish was perched on a dry bit of rock. His raiment was as immaculate as ever, but the tone of it was pink this morning.

"Hello, boys," shouted Burton as he approached. "Ready, I see. Now," as he pulled himself up on the rocks, "I want to see what you've accomplished since I saw you. In with you, Frank."

Frank plunged into the water and swam a little distance, using the crawl stroke to the best of his ability, while Burton observed him closely.

"'Tisn't quite right. Look," and the coach dived off the rock and shot over to Frank. "You ought to bring your hand clear out of the water. Don't reach too far and don't let it go too deep; just like a paddle, you remember. Your leg kick is good. Get your arms right and there will be nothing to it."

Frank tried to follow the instructions as well as he could, and his efforts pleased his instructor, who shouted from his perch on the rock to which he had returned: "Fine, fine, that's the way; now only one breath to half a dozen strokes; you waste too much time breathing."

"Same as me," commented the Codfish from his perch.

Frank finished his lesson, and Jimmy and Lewis were sent in for some instruction. Burton began to call for the crawl stroke, but both boys confessed they had never been able to learn it very well. They disliked burying their faces in the water, and so got along much better with the old overhand and breast strokes.

Burton tried to show them just how it was done, and was in the water and out of it half a dozen times coaching, but neither of the swimmers caught the idea.

"Well, never mind, let it go to-day and swim me a hundred yards, the three of you. Frank, you take the crawl, and let the other two use what they want to. Get ready, go!"

The boys splashed into the water each in his different way, Frank easy and graceful, Jimmy determined but rather clumsy, and Lewis like a walrus.

"See how Frank pulls away from them," said Burton, now left alone with the Codfish. "That boy is a wonder in the water. Why, they're not any match for him at all, and only last year both of them could beat him. That's what comes of sticking to a thing. Frank was determined to learn that stroke and he got it. The others thought there was nothing in it and didn't try hard."

The swimmers reached the other side of the little rocky inlet and were heading back towards the starting point, with Frank well in the lead, but he slowed up and finished easily, while the others pulled themselves up on the rocks almost exhausted.

"We're no match for Frank at all," said Jimmy, puffing. "He has a motor attached to him somewhere."

"It is the motor of perseverance, my son," said Burton. "You would do better in a long race, I think. Did you ever swim an eighth of a mile—the 220 yards?"

"Yes, but not in a race," answered Jimmy.

"You'll be as good as any of the rest of them at the distance, so I'll put you down for the 220 race. And Lewis, we'll put him in for the plunge."

"What's that?" said Lewis.

"Just like this," and suiting the action to the word Burton sprang from his rock, put his hands before him as he flew through the air, struck the water cleanly as a knife, and after disappearing a moment from view came to the top floating. His body traveled rapidly forward in a straight line, arms and legs held rigidly extended and the face buried. Fifty feet from the rock, when his momentum had about ended, he turned over on his back and raced back to the starting point. "That's the way you do it," he said, as he climbed up, shaking the water out of his hair. "Let's see you try it, Lewis."

"It's easy," said Lewis, and took the dive. He landed flat as a pancake, nearly knocking all the breath out of his body, stretched out his arms and legs, as he had seen Burton do, but didn't move five feet from the point where he struck the water. After lying on his face and imagining himself traveling forward, he looked up, disgusted, to note what little progress he had made, only to see his companions howling with laughter.

"Isn't so easy as it looks, is it?" said Burton. "But keep at it." He illustrated again, and Lewis, after one or two attempts, readily caught the idea. As there was no work to the job of plunging, he took a fancy to it, and before the morning's coaching was over was doing pretty well.

"There," said Burton finally, jumping up, "that's all the time I can give you this morning. All of you work every morning, but don't do too much. You have a week before the meet comes off. See you later."

"Can't we come a little way with you?" said Frank.

"Sure, glad to have you," and Frank and Jimmy took the water with Burton. They headed out clear of the rocks and turned down the shore at a distance of perhaps a hundred yards from land. Lewis and the Codfish walked leisurely down the sand, watching the three heads as they bobbed along in the waves.

"You ought to take every chance you can get," said Burton, as the three swam easily side by side, "to swim longer distances. There's no telling how handy it might come in, supposing you were pitched off a boat some day. The way to do, is to take it easy like we are now and use all your strokes. When you get tired with one, take another. That change rests you almost as much as stopping. Use one arm over first, and then another," illustrating as he went along, "and if you get very tired, turn over on your back and float a while with your hands well over your head like this." Again he illustrated.

The three swam on for two or three hundred yards, the boys drinking in the instruction of the expert and trying to put into practice all that he was telling them. Little did they think that they would need all and more than they were able to show in the way of strength and endurance in a short time.

"Well, good-by, boys; I've got to make time now," shouted Burton. "Maybe I'll see you before the meet, but if I don't, remember it is Thursday week at four o'clock. Be sure to come," and he was gone in a cloud of spray kicked up by his arms and legs as he started on his long swim down the shore.