Scarcely believing their eyes the boys crowded around the boat.

"What does this mean?" gasped Bob Somers.

"Look, look! There's a note for somebody," shouted Tom; "quick, let us see what it says."

Bob leaped lightly into the boat, and picked up an envelope, which he hastily tore open.

"Hurrah, hurrah!" he shouted. "Fellows, what do you think of this?"

Scrambling excitedly back to the wharf, while the others crowded eagerly around, he read: "The 'Rambler,' presented to Robert Somers by his father."

It seemed as if the boys had suddenly taken leave of their senses. Joining hands, they danced around and around, and a succession of lusty shouts echoed over the surrounding hills.

At length the very violence of their exertions caused a cessation of the impromptu celebration, and they threw themselves on the ground, thoroughly exhausted.

"Well, of all things in the world," burst forth Sam Randall, "isn't this the grandest?"

"What a glorious surprise," panted Bob, enthusiastically.

"Three cheers for Mr. Somers!" cried Dick Travers, and again their shouts floated over the air.

The boys were entirely unaware of the fact that their excited actions had been observed by a pair of very sharp eyes, and consequently when a step sounded close at hand it startled them not a little.

Looking up, they saw a small, unkempt individual, with a grizzly iron-gray moustache and a nose that deviated considerably from any recognized standard of beauty. He was gazing toward them with a severe frown, and, indeed, presented a rather threatening aspect. In one hand he clutched a heavy, knotted stick, while the other held a sadly battered straw hat.

"Well, well!" he exclaimed, in husky tones, as he arranged the first named article in such a manner as to assist in the task of standing erect. "Have you kids plumb lost your senses? What do you call such doings as them, anyway?" The frown deepened. "Who does this here new-fangled tub belong to?"

"To me, or, rather, the Rambler Club," answered Bob, proudly.

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