“That’s it; in time of peace prepare for war.”

“Where’s the Butterfly now?” asked Tim, who did not feel much interest in this exposition of duty.

“She is headed up to Rippleton River,” replied Frank.  “I hope she does not mean to venture among the rocks.”

Rippleton River was a stream which emptied into the lake at its eastern extremity.  Properly speaking, Wood Lake was only a widening of this river, though the stream was very narrow, and discharged itself into the lake amid immense masses of rock.

The mouth of this river was so obstructed by these rocks, that Captain Sedley had forbidden the boys ever to venture upon its waters; though, with occasional difficulties in the navigation, it was deep enough and wide enough to admit the passage of the boat for several miles.  A wooden bridge crossed the stream a little way above the lake—­an old, decayed affair which had frequently been complained of as unsafe.

“Tony knows the place very well,” said Charles.  “He will not be rash.”

“But there he goes right in amongst the rocks, and the Butterflies are pulling with all their might.  He is crazy,” added Frank, his countenance exhibiting the depth of his anxiety.

“Let Tony alone; he knows what he is about,” responded Fred.

“Heavens!” exclaimed Frank, suddenly, as he rose in his place.  “There has been an accident at the bridge!  I see a horse and chaise in the river.”

Tim dropped his oar, and was turning round to get a view of the object, when Frank checked him.  So strict was the discipline of the club, that, notwithstanding the excitement which the coxswain’s announcement tended to create, not another boy ceased rowing, or even missed his stroke.

“Keep your seat,” said Frank to Tim.  “Take your oar.”

“I want to see what’s going on,” replied Tim.

“Keep your seat,” repeated Frank, authoritatively.

Tim concluded to obey; and without a word resumed his place, and commenced pulling again.

“Tony is after them; if you obey orders we may get there in season to render some assistance,” continued Frank.  “Don’t balk us now, Tim.”

“I won’t, Frank; I will obey all your orders.  I didn’t think when I got up,” replied Tim, with earnestness, and withal in such a tone that Frank’s hopes ran high.

“Will you cross the rocks, Frank?” asked Charles Hardy.

“Certainly.”

“But you know your father told us never to go into the river.”

“Circumstances alter cases.”

“But it will be disobedience under any circumstances.”

“We won’t argue the point now,” answered the bold coxswain, quickening the movements of his body, till the crew pulled with their utmost strength and speed, and the Zephyr flew like a rocket over the water.

“I don’t like to go, Frank, and though I will obey orders, I now protest against this act of disobedience,” replied Charles, who was sure this time that Captain Sedley would commend and approve his inflexible love of obedience.