Not a strange bird is allowed to come about the cottage.  The kingbirds, which have a nest in a tree close by the house, keep a sharp look-out; and hawks, eagles, crows, and even those of their own species, all suffer alike.  But now and then a spry little wren pays a visit to the orchard, and then there is sport indeed.  The wren is a great fighting character, continually getting into broils with the other birds, and he has no notion of being driven off; and, although the kingbirds, with Sam’s assistance, generally succeed in expelling the intruder, it is only after a hard fight.

Directly opposite the door that opens into the museum is another entrance, which leads into a room which Frank calls his shop.  A work-bench has been neatly fitted up in one corner, at the end of which stands a large chest filled with carpenter’s tools.  On the bench are several half-finished specimens of Frank’s skill—­a jointed fish-pole, two or three finely-shaped hulls, and a miniature frigate, which he is making for one of his friends.  The shop and tools are kept in the nicest order, and Frank spends every rainy day at his bench.

The young naturalist is also a good sailor, and has the reputation of understanding the management of a sail-boat as well as any other boy in the village.  He has two boats, which are in the creek, tied to the wharf in front of the house.  One of them is a light skiff, which he frequently uses in going to and from the village and on his fishing excursions, and the other is a scow, about twenty feet long and six feet wide, which he built himself.  He calls her the Speedwell.  He has no sail-boat, but he has passed hour after hour trying to conjure up some plan by which he might be enabled to possess himself of one.  Such a one as he wants, and as most of the village have, would cost fifty dollars.  Already he has laid by half that amount; but how is he to get the rest?  He has begun to grow impatient.  The yachting season has just opened; every day the river is dotted with white sails; trials of speed between the swiftest sailers come off almost every hour, and he is obliged to stand and look on, or content himself with rowing around in his skiff.  It is true he has many friends who are always willing to allow him a seat in their boats, but that does not satisfy him.  He has determined to have a yacht of his own, if there is any honest way for him to get it.  For almost a year he has carefully laid aside every penny, and but half the necessary sum has been saved.  How to get the remainder is the difficulty.  He never asks his mother for money; he is too independent for that; besides, he has always been taught to rely on his own resources, and he has made up his mind that, if he can not earn his boat, he will go without it.

Three or four days after the commencement of our story, Frank might have been seen, about five o’clock one pleasant morning, seated on the wharf in front of the house, with Brave at his side.  The question how he should get his boat had been weighing heavily upon his mind, and he had come to the conclusion that something must be done, and that speedily.