For a week after the wreck on Flat Rock, and the swim and rescue which followed, the Queen's Transportation Company did a rushing business. People came from far and near to take a look at the boys who were the central figures in the adventure, and incidentally they took a trip on the Black Duck itself. The boat was none the worse for its jaunt with a dead engine up the bay on that eventful night, but thereafter Frank carried an extra set of batteries for any similar emergency that might arise.

Peters and his chum, Bates, had the Nautilus—Peters' boat—raised and repaired. The injury done the boat in the storm was not great, as it happened that she had been driven into a bight in the rocks where, after she had sunk, the pounding of the waves did not reach her. Both boys disappeared from Turner's Point. Later it was learned that they had gone to another shore resort, and they were seen no more around the Point that summer. The whole incident was closed when Frank was awarded the medal for the hundred-yard swim, the presentation being made by Burton himself. But it was a long time before the memory of that night swim left Frank and Jimmy. They could laugh about Jimmy's experience with the jelly fish now.

"But it was no laughing matter when it happened," was Jimmy's only comment.

About two weeks after the night in question the boys were seated around the big table in the Armstrong sitting room and Frank was figuring.

"And there's the total for our summer's work," he said, pushing a sheet covered with figures over to his father.

Mr. Armstrong laid aside his magazine, took the sheet and ran his eyes over the figures. "Pretty good," he said, smiling. "This means that you have about paid for your boat."

"That's just about what it does," said Frank proudly. "Look, there are our earnings—$132.00. Gasoline has cost us $17.25, oil $6.20, batteries $4.50, and we gave the old captain $5.00, and that leaves us .95 shy."

"Figures all right, does it?" said his father. "Sure your totals are correct?"

"Sure as shooting," said Jimmy. "We've been over them three times."

"Nothing outstanding, no rides on the Black Duck unpaid for?"

"You bet they're not," said the Codfish. "I saw to it, as manager of this concern, that no one sneaked aboard without first surrendering his cash for our coffers."

"Good, then," chuckled Mr. Armstrong. "I was about to give you a dollar for that trip to Turner's Point, but I'll keep it."

The boys looked at each other. "It's a fact," said Frank. "Dad got past you, Codfish," and they all laughed. "Pay up, Dad, but that was only fifty cents. Our fare was twenty-five cents."

"Well," said Mr. Armstrong, laughing, "I'll pay you twenty-five cents each for mother and me, and fifty cents for the trip we didn't get. Here's your cash," and he laid down a new dollar bill.

"Hurrah!" cried the Codfish, "that balances our account and five cents to the good! This concern stands free of all debts and has five cents in the treasury. Captain Frank Webfoot Armstrong, we salute you," and suiting the action to the word the boys all rose to their feet and bowed gravely to the captain, who acknowledged the salute with a joyful wave of the hand.

"And to-morrow at about nine," said Frank, "we will pay our last installment to Mr. Simpkins and the boat is ours. What say?"

"Agreed," said the others.

"And," added the Codfish, "let's take a vacation. I'm all worked to a frazzle with the responsibility of secretary, treasurer, manager, press agent, artist and general goat of this Transportation Company."

"Poor old Codfish!" said Jimmy. "He speaks well."

"He has the wisdom of a Solomon," cried Frank; "and besides, Jimmy, we ought to get in some work on football before we go back to Queen's. What would you fellows say if we were to tie the Black Duck up to the dock to-morrow and try a little drop kicking?"

"Great," said Jimmy, "but where's the ball?"

"You don't think I'd come down here without one, do you?" said Frank contemptuously. "I brought a nice new one along with me and all we need is a pump to blow it up with."

"Oh, I've got a bike pump," said Lewis.

"Just the thing," remarked Frank. "Shoot up and get it and we will put the ball in condition to-night."

Lewis hurried off as fast as he could go and Frank dragged forth the football. The lacings were eased up, and when Lewis got back a little later with his pump, the four of them set to work to inflate the interior rubber bag. It was quite a job, as any one knows who has tried it, but after much puffing and much struggling with the lacings, and much sage and useless advice from the Codfish, the rubber bag was blown up tight and tied, and the ball was ready for use. And the boys were also about ready for bed.

It was with very deep pride that Frank, escorted by his three companions, rang the doorbell in the Simpkins house the next morning, and laid the last installment, a few minutes later, on the desk of the old gentleman himself, who sat there smiling pleasantly at the boys.

"I admire your pluck, boys," he said. "Here's a receipt in full. Thank you for your promptness. If you do all your work in the world as well as you have begun, you will surely succeed. I am glad to have made your acquaintance and I shall always feel under a great indebtedness to you, Master Armstrong."

When they were outside, Jimmy said:

"And I thought he was an old skinflint the first day we saw him about the motor boat!"

"You can't always tell how sweet an orange is by its skin," remarked the Codfish. "Now look at me——"

"Yes, look at you," said Frank.

"Drown him! drown him!" cried the boys, rushing at the Codfish. They were in high fettle this morning.

With the receipt in full in his pocket, it was with a sense of complete ownership that Frank stepped into the Black Duck and took the wheel.

"I want to thank you, fellows, for helping me," he said, turning to the three. "We are part owners in this old craft."

"Thank nothing," said Jimmy, who was as glad as Frank that the debt had been lifted. "Haven't we had all the good rides? She belongs to you. We are only the able-bodied seamen."

"Frank's right," said the Codfish, "we are part owners. I consider that my services entitle me at least to the paint on her."

"And much there is of it," said Frank, laughing. "But no matter what you say, she's as much yours as mine. And now for Seawall and football practice."

"I wasn't much at this game," said Lewis, "but football is where I shine."

"Shine like a bucket of mud," said the Codfish.

Laughing and jollying each other in the highest spirits, they headed the Black Duck for Seawall. She shot ahead through the water like a veritable duck.

"Guess she knows who owns her this morning," observed Jimmy, grinning, as Frank laid her alongside the dock with a nicety of calculation as to speed and distance.

The Black Duck was tied up securely and the boys, after getting the ball, made for the little playground which had been established by some of the public-spirited citizens of Seawall several years before our story opens.

"Where are your goal posts, kids?" inquired the Codfish, as they hurried along. "You can't kick goals without something to kick at, sonny." This was directed at Frank.

"Tut, tut," said that individual, "I've heard of people kicking goals without a ball. But I'm going to see whether I can kick the ball first or not."

"Do you know anything about it?"

"Not a thing. Horton showed me something about it one day last fall, and I've watched him coaching a lot. You just take the ball on a long pass from the center——"

"And I'm the center," broke in Lewis.

"Yes, you're the center, all right," said Frank. "Lewis passes the ball. I catch it——"

"You mean you catch it if you can," interrupted the Codfish.

"Don't interrupt your superior officer, or I'll fire you," said Frank. "As I was saying, I catch the ball, turn it around so that the lacing is up, and then drop it——"

"The way Lewis used to drop it——"

"Not quite, but I drop it end first on the ground, and give it a wallop with my toe as it is rising."

"Sounds very pretty," said the Codfish.

"And what does Jimmy do?"

"Oh, he lies on his stomach when we kick from placement and holds the ball for me."

"No work at all to that. I'd do that much any day," commented the Codfish. "But here we are. Now I'll take this very comfortable rustic chair here in the shade, and see how you put these theories into practice. If I get warm I'll ask some of you to come over here and fan me," and he strolled over and dropped with a sigh of comfort into a park bench. "Now let the fun begin."

The fun began at once. On the first pass, Lewis threw the ball away over Frank's head, and the next time dribbled it along the ground, but after half a dozen tries he finally got it to Frank, who made a fair attempt at a drop kick. It wouldn't have filled Coach Horton with glee, but he managed to boot the ball a little distance.

"Wonderful kick!" shouted the Codfish from his place in the shade of the tree. "Keep it up; you'll win the game in a minute. Wake me up when you do."

Frank paid no attention, but continued to work steadily. Gradually he began to get the right angle on the ball as he dropped it from his hands. The kicks rose higher and truer as he went on. Jimmy watched and criticised his friend, for although Jimmy knew very little about kicking the ball he was a natural football player. He kicked clumsily, but still he knew how it should be done, although he could not do it well himself.

By the end of the practice the boys were covered with perspiration, for the day, although in the latter part of August, was hot in spite of the sea breeze; and like everything that Frank entered into, he had played with a tremendous zeal and concentration. Nothing was half-hearted with him, and when other boys were with him in any of his enterprises, they caught his spirit.

"All over for to-day, boys," cried the Codfish, coming forward, stretching, but assuming the tone of a coach. "That's enough, kids. Report at four to-morrow. Very rotten practice," he added, "at least, as much as I saw of it, for I'm free to confess that the humming of the bees and the song of the football put me to sleep."

Together the four ambled back to the Armstrong cottage, where the three heated boys exchanged their perspiration-soaked clothes for bathing suits, took a dip in the sea and swam a half dozen impromptu races. They raced back and forth like so many dolphins, diving, swimming under water, splashing and shouting, then ran up the beach, rolled in the sand and dashed back into the water. After an hour of this they were ready to don regular clothes again.

The first day of football practice was the index of many others like it. The remaining mornings of vacation were given to the motor boat and the afternoons to drop-kicking practice, swimming and running. As time progressed both Jimmy and Frank gained perceptibly in physical condition and even fat Lewis seemed less flabby. Finally came the day of the Codfish's departure. He had long overstayed his visit as it had been first planned.

"I've got to get back home and lay in a new supply of duds," he said, "but I'll meet you at Queen's before another moon has waxed and waned."

He got a great send-off at the Seawall station as you may well suppose, for in spite of his rather odd ways and sarcastic tongue he was a most likable boy.

"He sees the funny side of everything," said Frank, as the Codfish, waving his handkerchief from the end of the fast-disappearing train, faded from view, "but he is true-blue all the way through."

"Which is a rhyme, Mr. Armstrong," said Jimmy; "and while we are fond of athletes, we can't stand any more poets. We have one here with us, you know—Lewis."

Lewis swelled up at this.

For ten days more the three, now left alone, kept up their daily work. September was ushered in by a few days of quite cold weather, and this gave them the chance to do more rugged football work. Frank and Jimmy practiced falling on the ball, Lewis acting the part of the coach, who rolled the ball in their direction. Then they practiced picking the ball up at full gallop, and after that they worked at grabbing it on the bound.

"Never could see the sense in falling on the ball, anyway," said Frank, after he returned from a race down the field, having snatched a bounding ball and tucked it securely under his arm, "particularly if you have a clear field ahead of you."

"Right-oh," returned Jimmy, "but you've got to be sure the field is clear. The old game used to be 'play it safe,' but in the new one it is all right to take a chance. But make it sure when you go after it."

"All right, Mr. Coach," said Frank. "I'm not such a shark at this game as you, but I'll do my best. My game is baseball. I don't think I'll ever be heavy enough for the gridiron. Do you think I will?"

"Sure thing," said Coach Jimmy Turner. "I bet you'll make the team before you get through Queen's, and all the quicker when they find out that you're a drop kicker."

"I'd like to make it," said Frank wistfully, "but I think I'd better stick to baseball. I know a little about that game."

Finally came the last day on the Black Duck, and they made it a long cruise. They went down as far as the Point, circled Flat Rock, measuring the distance with narrowed eyes that they had covered in the long night swim, and finally, the tide being right, even penetrated up the river as far as Tub Island, and then back through the tumbling water under the railroad bridge.

The next day the Black Duck was laid up for the winter in Berry's boat house, and the boys, after a parting swim and run on the beach, said good-by to Seawall and turned their faces toward Queen's School.