“Then it is all arranged.”

“Yes, except the time.”

“We shall leave that all to you.”

“We are ready now,” replied Tony, with a smile.

“Name the day, then.”

“Next Wednesday afternoon.”

“Very well.”

“Who shall be the judges?  We have chosen your father for one.”

“And we shall choose Uncle Ben for another.”

“Let us choose the other together.”

“Agreed.”

The two clubs were then called to order, and Frank, at Tony’s request, stated the business to them.

“Please to nominate,” said he.

“Mr. Hyde, the schoolmaster,” exclaimed a dozen voices.

It was a unanimous vote, and the judges were all elected.

“Now, Tony, let us have some fun.”

“We will try our fleet tactics a little more, if you like.”

“So I say.”

“We will go down the lake with the ‘fraternal hug.’”

“The what!” exclaimed Charles Hardy.

“We call our present position the ‘fraternal hug.’”

“Hurrah for the fraternal hug!” shouted Charles, and all the boys laughed heartily.

“Nothing bearish about it, I hope,” added Fred Harper.

“We have no bears,” replied Frank, as he ordered out his starboard oars.

Tony in like manner got out his larboard oars.

“Now, Frank,” said he, “as you are a veteran in the service, you shall be commodore, and command the allied squadron.”

A burst of laughter greeted this sally; but Frank was too modest to accept this double command, and would only do so when a vote had been passed, making him “commodore.”

Fenders—­a couple of cushions, which Frank, in anticipation of this maneuver, had provided—­were placed between the two boats to keep them from injuring each other, and the order was given to pull.  As but six oars were pulled in each boat, their progress was not very rapid.  No one, however, seemed to care for that.  The joining of the two boats in the “fraternal hug” was emblematic of the union that subsisted in the hearts of their crews, and all the members of each club seemed better satisfied with this symbolical expression of their feelings than though they had won a victory over the other.

When they came abreast of the Zephyr’s boat-house, they discovered that Uncle Ben was on board the Sylph, which lay moored at a short distance from the shore.

Bang! went the cannon which the veteran had again rigged on the bow of the sail-boat.

And as they passed down the lake, Uncle Ben blazed away in honor of the fraternal hug between the two clubs.

CHAPTER V.

Up the river.

At the end of the lake the boats separated, after giving each other three hearty cheers.

“Where are you going now?” asked Tim Bunker.

“We will go up the lake again.”