Bob rowed the boat, George stood in the bow, divested of his clothing and all ready to make the plunge, and Dick sat in the stern and looked at the rocks.

“I tell you, they look ugly!” said he, with another involuntary shudder. “If it hadn’t been for you, George, there would have been two vacant seats at the Montford Academy next Monday. What’s that wedged in between those two high rocks, a little to the left of the point? It looks to me like a piece of my lost canoe.”

“That’s just what it is!” answered George, “We’ll go up there and take a look at it as soon as I find out whether or not I am going to get that gun. We are pretty near the spot now. Steady! There!”

As Bob ceased rowing and faced about on his seat, there was a splash in the water, and George had disappeared. He was gone a good while—so long that the two boys who were awaiting the result of his experiment, began to look at each other with some uneasiness.

At length, Dick asked suddenly:

“I say, Bob, what are you going to give him if he finds your gun for you?”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to speak to you about,” was Bob’s reply. “I don’t think it would be quite the thing to offer him money, for he doesn’t look to me like a boy who would go to all this trouble for the sake of earning a reward.”

“That’s my opinion, and I will tell you what I have been thinking of. You know he said he would like to go to the academy; and he said it in a way that led me to believe that the only obstacle that stands in his way is a lack of money. Now you and I have more spare change than we can use, and if you will pay half his tuition, I’ll pay the other half. He needn’t know that we’re doing anything for him, for I have an idea that he would refuse—”

Before Dick could finish his sentence, George’s head bobbed up out of the water, a short distance away; but the only thing he brought with him was a handful of gravel, to show that he had been to the bottom.

A few long, sweeping strokes brought him alongside the boat. He climbed in over the bow, and, after taking a moment’s breathing spell, he went down again.

This time he was gone longer than before, and Dick and Bob had ample leisure to decide upon something.

What it was, you will learn as our story progresses.

The second attempt to recover the lost weapon resulted in failure, and so did the third and fourth; but the fifth was successful. A hand, grasping the little double-barrel, suddenly appeared above the surface of the water, followed an instant after by the persevering diver, who was as highly elated over his achievement as Bob Howard was himself.

“George,” said he, as he grasped the gun and began rubbing it briskly with his handkerchief, “I don’t know how to thank you for the service you have rendered me.”

“Then you had better not try,” advised George, with a laugh. “That’s a beautiful little piece, and well worth saving. Now, I wish I could give Dick his canoe in good order.”

“Thank you! But that is something that nobody this side of Troy can do. She is made of paper.”

George, who had never before heard of such a thing as a paper canoe, opened his eyes and looked incredulous; but when he had pulled over to the rocks and taken a look at the wreck that was stranded there, he found that Dick had told him nothing but the truth. The little craft had been torn completely in two. The stern was nowhere to be seen, and the bow was wedged so tightly between the rocks that they could not get it out.

“I say, Bob, take the butt of your oar and break a hole through the bottom,” said Dick. “Perhaps we shall find something in there.”

And so they did.

Through the opening that Bob’s heavy oar speedily made in the frail covering he gained access to the forward locker, from which he drew forth two jointed fishing-rods, and also a liberal supply of canned goods, such as salmon, lobsters, condensed milk, and fried brook trout.

He likewise brought to light a canister of ground coffee, about half a peck of potatoes, and lastly, a water-proof bag, which, on being opened, was found to contain a quantity of crackers, bread, and ginger-snaps, and also two blackberry pies.

George looked on in wonder.

“Did I understand you to say that you are going back to the academy to-night?” said he.

“You did,” assured Bob, panting from his exertions. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t wonder that you had to hire a team to bring you up here,” continued George. “You had your canoe provisioned for a four-weeks’ cruise.”

“That shows how much you know about an academy boy’s appetite,” said Dick. “Whenever we go into the country for a holiday, we always make our entertainers open their eyes. Find anything more, Bob? Well, then, shove off. We’ll stop at the cabin long enough to unload our cargo and give our poles a good rubbing, and then, perhaps, George will be kind enough to show us where we can catch a good string of bass. We don’t want to go back to the academy empty-handed, you know; for if we do the fellows will laugh at us.”

George’s guests thoroughly enjoyed themselves that day.

Having caught a pailful of minnows for them, George rowed them down to his favorite fishing-grounds, and by the time the fish stopped biting they had sixteen black bass to show to the academy boys as trophies of their skill.

George offered to increase the size of their string by adding to it the fish he had caught himself—being an expert angler, he had caught an even dozen while the others were catching sixteen—but Dick and Bob would not listen to it. When they exhibited their fish they wanted to be able to say that they had caught them all themselves, and they couldn’t say that if they accepted any help from George.

The dinner that was served up in the cabin that afternoon was the best that George had eaten for many a day, and he disposed of his full share of it.

When they had satisfied their appetites, Dick and Bob began to get ready to start for home.

“Now, George,” said the latter, as he shouldered his gun and fishing-rod, which he had tied together so that they could be easily carried, “how much do we owe you?”

“Not a red cent,” was George’s reply.

“Cheap enough,” said Dick. “We’ll come again.”

“I hope you will. I shall be glad to see you at any time—that is, if you can be satisfied with such poor accommodations as I have to offer you.”

“Say nothing about that!” exclaimed Bob. “What better accommodations can we ask for than a tight roof, a good bed and plenty to eat and drink?”

“And good hunting and fishing within a stone’s throw of your door,” chimed in Dick. “You may expect us next Friday evening. We can get away every week if we only behave ourselves during study hours, and I am perfectly willing to be good for five consecutive days for the sake of enjoying such squirrel shooting as I had this morning.”

As the nearest way to the village was through Mr. Stebbins’ sheep pasture, George took his guests across the lake in his boat, thus saving them a three-mile walk.

After putting them on the road, and giving them explicit directions regarding the course they were to follow in order to reach the academy, George said good-by, and set out on his return to the lake; but while he was crossing the sheep pasture he was confronted by Mr. Stebbins, who, in no amiable tones, demanded to know what he was doing there, and what business he had to bring those young vagabonds on his grounds.

“They are not vagabonds,” replied George, with some spirit. “They are gentlemen, and that is more than I can say for some other people I know.”

“I don’t want none of your sass!” snapped the old man, angrily, at the same time whisking a heavy black snake whip he carried in his hand. “I tell you that I don’t like the looks of them fellers.”

“I can’t help it, can I?” asked George.

“I never slept a wink t’other night,” continued Mr. Stebbins, “’cause they was in my barn, an’ I was expectin’ every minute that they would break into my house an’ rob me. I don’t want them to come foolin’ round here no more. You hear me?”

“Yes, I hear you. They will be up here again next Friday night, and I will tell them what you say.”

“Wal, they shan’t sleep in my barn ag’in, if they do come up here, ’cause I’m afeared of ’em. Why don’t they stay to home, where they belong? They’ve got no ’arthly business up here. An’ I tell you another thing I don’t like,” went on Mr. Stebbins, flourishing his whip over his head. “Be you livin’ over there on t’other side of the lake?”

The boy replied that he was.

“I thought so, ’cause I seed a smoke comin’ out of the chimbly. Now I don’t want you nor nobody else over there, an’ I won’t have it, nuther.”

“Is my cabin on your grounds?” questioned George.

“No, it ain’t,” said Mr. Stebbins, emphatically.

“Then you have nothing to say about it. I had permission from the man who owns that land to build my cabin there, and so long as he does not object, you have no right to complain.”

“Hain’t I though?” Mr. Stebbins almost shouted. “Wal, I shall ask the selectmen about that. There’s a poorhouse pervided for them that ain’t able to make an honest livin’ for themselves.”

“I am able to make an honest living,” said George, with no little indignation in his tones, “and I shall not go to the poorhouse to please anybody.”

“You ain’t your own boss yet by a few years,” reminded the man, with a sneer; “an’ if you’re too stuck up to earn a livin’ by hard work, like an honest boy had oughter do, you may find yourself in jail, the first thing you know. I’ve been a-lookin’ for it, ’cause there’s been a heap of stealin’—Wal, go on; but remember what I’m a-tellin’ you.”

George, who was too angry to listen to another word, hurried down to the beach, sprang into his boat, and pushed off into deep water.

His little cabin was lonely enough now. He missed his new friends, whom he had learned to like during his short acquaintance with them, and his interview with Mr. Stebbins had thrown a gloom over him that he could not shake off.