Frank then read the constitution, and the new member listened to it with attention.  The stringent provisions of the sixth article, which forbade swearing, indecent language, and other boyish vices, brought a scarcely visible smile to his lips, and excited a doubt as to the success of the experiment in the mind of the director.

“Now, Tim, you can sign it,” said Frank.

“It’s pretty strict—­ain’t it?” added Tim, with one of his peculiar grins, as he took the pen that was handed to him.  “You know I ain’t used to being quite so strained up as you fellers, and I may kinder break through afore I know it.”

“If you do, you shall be judged kindly and charitably,” said Captain Sedley.

“Well.  I’ll sign it.”

But it was not quite so easy a thing for Tim to sign; at least, to perform the mechanical part of the act, for he had been to school but little, and good penmanship was not one of his accomplishments.  However, he succeeded in getting over the form, though it would have puzzled the secretary to read it, if he had not known what it was.

“Now, Zephyrs, Tim is one of us,” said Frank.

“He hasn’t got any uniform,” suggested Charles.

“He shall have one,” replied Captain Sedley, as he wrote an order on Mr. Burlap, the tailor, to supply him with a uniform.

“All aboard!” shouted Frank.  “We will pull up the lake, and see how the Butterfly gets along.  They have been practising for a fortnight, and they ought to be able to row pretty well by this time.”

“With Uncle Ben to show them how,” added Fred Harper.

Again the Zephyrs were in their seats, and the boat was backed out into the lake.  The flags were unrolled, and put in their places.  The graceful barge was nicely trimmed, so as to rest exactly square in the water, and everything was ready for a sharp pull.  The weather was cool, and the boys required some pretty vigorous exercise to keep them warm.

The various commands were given and executed with the usual precision, only that Tim, who was not thoroughly “broken in,” made some blunders, though, considering his short service, his proficiency was decidedly creditable.

The Zephyr darted away like an arrow, and the slow, measured, musical stroke of the oars was pleasant and exciting to the rowers.

“You haven’t told us about the other matter yet, Frank,” said Charles, as the boat skimmed along over the little waves of the lake.

“Let us know about it,” added Fred.

“About what?” asked Tim Bunker, whose modesty in his new position did not seem to cause him much trouble.

“We are to have a race with the Butterfly, when Tony gets things to his mind,” replied Frank.

“That’ll be fun!  Are ye going to put up anything?”

“Put up anything?”

“Yes; what’s going to be the stakes?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Tim.”

“When they race horses, each man bets on his own.”