A rude raft, which had been provided by Tony, was towed to the shore, where an abundance of rocks were to be had.  It was their intention to load it with “lighthouse material,” and tow it to the island.  It required all their skill to accomplish this object, for the raft was a most ungainly thing to manage.  The Zephyr was so long that they could not row round so as to bring the raft alongside the bank, and when they attempted to push it in, the paint, and even the planks of the boat, were endangered.

“Can’t get it in—­can we?” said Charles Hardy, after several unsuccessful attempts.

“There is no such word as fail,” replied William.  “Bring me the long painter.”

The coxswain unfastened the tow line of the raft, and tied the painter to it.

“Bowman, stand by with the boat-hook, ready to land.”

“Ay, ay!”

“Now, pull steady; be careful she does not grind on the rocks; easy, there.  Four of you jump ashore.”

The four forward rowers obeyed the command.

“Now pass this line ashore, and let them pull in on the raft,” continued William.

“Hurrah! there she is!” shouted Frank.  “That was done handsomely!”

“We could have done it before, if we had only thought of it,” replied William, laughing.  “Now put out the fenders, and haul the boat alongside the raft.”

Four more of the boys were sent on shore to help roll down the rocks, and two were ordered upon the raft to place them.  A great deal of hard work was done in a very short time; but, as it was play, no one minded it, as probably some of them would if the labor had been for any useful purpose.  In due time the raft was loaded with all it would carry, and the boys were ordered into the boat again.

The raft proved to be a very obstinate sailer.  After a deal of hard tugging at the oars, they succeeded in getting it under a tolerable headway; but the tow line was not properly attached, and it “heeled over” so as to be in danger of “spilling” its load into the lake.  Prudence and good management, however, on the part of the coxswain, conveyed it in safety to the island, and its freight soon became “part and parcel” of the lighthouse.

Two or three loads more were brought, after the lesson of experience obtained in getting the first, with but comparatively little difficulty; and at six o’clock the tower received its capstone at a height of six feet from the ground, and twelve from the water.

The lighthouse was then inaugurated by a volley of cheers.  A hollow pumpkin of last year’s growth, containing a lighted candle, was placed upon the apex; and then the boats departed for home.  At eight o’clock, when the darkness had gathered upon the lake, they saw the light from their homes, and had the satisfaction of knowing that the light-keeper was watchful of the safety of vessels in those waters.

As Charles Hardy passed through the grove on his way home, after the club separated, he met Tim Bunker, who was apparently awaiting his coming.