In about an hour they met again under the tree, and found the refreshments all ready for them, and they fell to work in earnest.  So full were they of their sport, that it took them two hours to eat their dinner, as they had said they had come to enjoy themselves, and felt in duty bound to eat all their baskets contained.

After dinner, one of the smugglers proposed to go squirrel-hunting; but many of the coast-guards had passed the preceding night without any sleep, and, to use their own expression, they “didn’t feel like it;” so this project was abandoned, and the boys lay on the grass, under the tree, telling stories, until almost three o’clock, and then began to get ready to start for home.

CHAPTER X.

A Queer Cousin.

As every one knows, it would be almost an impossibility for sixteen sail-boats to go any where in company without trying their speed, especially if they were sailed by boys.  When our heroes stepped into their vessels, each skipper made up his mind that his boat must be the first one to touch the opposite shore.  Not a word was said about a race, but every one knew that one would be sure to come off.  Every thing was done in a hurry, and the little vessels were all afloat in a moment.  They were on the leeward side of the island—­that is, the side from the wind—­and they would be obliged to get around to the opposite side before they could use their sails.

The coast-guards shoved their boats out into the current, and allowed themselves to float down toward the foot of the island, thinking that course easier than pulling, against the current, up to the head of the island.

Frank noticed this movement, and said, in a low voice, to the smugglers,

“Don’t follow them, boys.  They will find themselves becalmed in less than a quarter of an hour.  The breeze is dying away.  If you want to beat them, hoist your sails, and get out your oars, and row up to the head of the island; we can reach it before they reach the foot, and, besides, the current will carry them further down the river than they want to go.”

The smugglers did as Frank had directed; and as they moved from the shore, and turned up the river, one of the coast-guards called out,

“Where are you fellows going?”

“Home,” answered Ben.

“You are taking the longest and hardest way.”

“The longest way around is the nearest way home, you know,” answered William.

“I don’t believe it is, in this instance,” said James Porter.  “Let’s see who will be at the long dock first.”

“All right,” answered the smugglers.

And they disappeared behind a high-wooded promontory of the island.

It was hard work, pulling against a current that ran four miles an hour, but they were accustomed to it, and the thought of again beating the coast-guards gave strength to their arms.