“Ay, ay,” answered the coxswains.

“Now, Tony, you may go up and mark off the rocks at the mouth of the river.”

The little Dip, which had a picked crew for the occasion, darted away up the lake, leaving the rest of the fleet to follow.

“Form a line!” shouted Frank, and the boats backed out from their positions, and in a moment had obeyed the order.

“Ready—­pull;” and the fleet moved slowly and grandly up the lake.

The boys were in high spirits.  There was something inspiring in the operations of the squadron that would have moved a more steady mind than that of a boy of twelve.  Every moment was a revelation of the power that dwelt in them, of the beauty of order, of the grace of harmonious action.  As in the great world, a single intractable spirit might have produced a heap of confusion, and it was the purpose of the organization to bring each into harmony with the whole.

The fleet reached the mouth of the river.  Tony had placed buoys on the dangerous rocks each side of the channel, so that the boats, by approaching it in the right direction, could easily pass through in safety.

The Dip had been provided with a large number of these buoys.  They were pieces of board, part of them painted red, and part blue, with a line and weight attached to each.  Near the dangerous rock or shoal one of these buoys was to be located, which would be kept in place by the weight.  The coxswains had written instructions from the commodore to keep red ones on the starboard side, and blue on the port side, going up the river, and vice versa coming down.

The Zephyr took position near the rocks to see that every boat approached the channel in the right direction, as, if they did not, they would be sure to strike.  By these extraordinary precautions, the fleet passed through in safety, and three stunning cheers announced that the passage had been effected.

“Here we are, Charley,” said Frank, as the Zephyr pulled ahead of the other boats.

“All safe, thanks to the skill and prudence of our commodore,” replied Charles; and the reader will be struck with the modesty of his language.

“Where is Tony?  I don’t see him.”

“Round the bend, I guess; but here are his buoys all along.”

“Signal man, hoist the blue,” continued the commodore; and the fleet followed in single line.

“Here’s the bridge; I fancy Tony knows the soundings here,” said Charles.

“Ay, there is the rock on which Mr. Walker’s chaise hung.  It is almost out of water, now.”

“Did you hear what Mr. Walker said when some one asked him why he did not sue the town?”

“No; what was it?”

“He said it was the luckiest day of his life when he pitched off the bridge.”

“Indeed!”

“He has thought so much better of humanity since, and it introduced him to Tony Weston, whom he calls a hero in embryo.”