“Ay, ay!  That we will,” replied the club, with one voice.

“If we get beaten in a race, we will bear our defeat like men.  Won’t we, boys?”

“That we will.”

Tony wound up by saying he was not much at making speeches, but he was ready to do everything he could to make things go off right and pleasantly.

Three cheers more were given on each side, and the crews were ordered into their seats.

“Starboard oars, ready—­up!” said Frank.

“Larboard oars, ready—­up!” said Tony.

“Ready—­down!” was then given by one, and repeated by the other.  And then, “Ready—­pull!” followed, in like manner.

My reader will readily perceive that the effect of this maneuver was to turn the boats round in opposite directions, so that they came alongside of each other, after a few strokes of the oars.

The painter of the Butterfly was thrown on board the Zephyr, and made fast to the bow ring.  The boys were now all brought together, and the discipline of the clubs was relaxed so as to permit the members to enjoy a few moments of social recreation.

The Butterfly, as we have said in the introduction, was of the same size and model as the Zephyr, and, except that the former was painted in gayer colors, to represent the gaudy tints of the butterfly, the two boats were exact counterparts of each other.

Her crew had already procured their uniform, and wore it on the present occasion.  It was a pair of white pants, made “sailor fashion,” with a short red frock, and a patent-leather belt.  These garments, owing to the coldness of the weather, were worn over their usual clothes.  The hat was a tarpaulin, with the name of the club in gilt letters on the front, and upon the left breast of the frock was a butterfly, worked in colors.

The Butterfly, like her rival, carried an American flag at the stern, and a blue silk fly, with the letter “B” on it, at the bow.

“This is glorious, isn’t it, Frank?” said Tony, as he took his friend’s hand and warmly pressed it.

“First rate!  There is fun before us this season; and if nothing happens to mar the harmony which now prevails, we shall enjoy ourselves even more than we did last summer.”

“Nothing can happen—­can there?” replied Tony, glancing involuntarily at Tim Bunker, who seemed to be so amazed at the good will that prevailed around him as to be incapable of saying anything.

“I hope not; but, Tony, what about the race?  Has your club voted on the question of the prize?”

“Yes.”

“What did you do?”

“What have you done, Frank?” asked Tony.  There was not the slightest doubt as to his Yankee paternity.

“We voted to accept the offer.”

“So did we, though our members were so afraid of doing something wrong, that George had to come into the meeting and argue the question with them.  We accepted the offer on condition that you did so.”