Three lads were getting up the anchor on board the White Wings, which lay in Rockland harbor, on the coast of Maine, and they sang a nautical song as they pulled at the cable. They were Bart Hodge, Jack Diamond and Hans Dunnerwust. Frank Merriwell was busy making other preparations for the run up to Camden that glorious summer morning, while Bruce Browning was doing something below, no one knew what.

"Holdt on a vile till you spit on my handts," exclaimed the Dutch lad, breathing heavily. "I vant to got a petter holdt mit my feet to kept from slipping der rail ofer und der varter indo. I vas glad you don'd af to bull ub anchors to make me a lifings."

"Keep at it, Hans," ordered Hodge.

"You remind me of the Irishman who caught his friend by the heels just as the friend was falling headlong into a well," said Diamond, as he continued to pull away.

"How vas dot?" asked Hans.

"He held on as long as he could," said Jack, "and then he called down to his friend, 'Jist wait a minute where yez are, Mike, till Oi let go an' get a betther hold.' Then he let go."

"Yaw," said Hans, soberly; "but I don'd seen der boint der story of."

"His friend couldn't wait," explained Jack.

Frank Merriwell laughed. Never before had he heard the Virginian tell a humorous anecdote, and he was not a little surprised as well as pleased, for it showed that Jack, who had grumbled a great deal during the unlucky and unpleasant cruise down the coast, was in better spirits now they were at last in the waters of Penobscot Bay.

The anchor broke water and was soon secured in place. Already the jib had been raised, and Frank was at the wheel to bring the yacht round as soon as she felt the breeze after the anchor was atrip. Every indication was that there was just breeze enough outside the harbor to give them a pleasant sail to their destination.

Under Frank's orders the boys set sail, hoisting both the jib topsails and club topsails; in fact, cracking on every stitch. Hans grew weary again before the mainsail was up.

"Get hold of the halyards and get into gear, Dunnerwust," ordered Bart, sharply. "You are getting to be as bad as Browning, and he is no earthly use on the water."

"Hey?" grunted the big fellow, his head appearing as he came up from below. "Well, what's the use of being any earthly use on the water? What's the matter with you, Hodge?"

"The matter with you is that you need something for that tired feeling," returned Bart, like a flash. "If you would get out and make a bluff at pulling on a line now and then, it would seem rather more decent."

"I never make any bluffs. Everything is on the level with me. I'm not much of a sailor, but I'm pretty good at repelling boarders, ducking bogus sheriffs and such things. Don't worry about me. Just go ahead getting under way. I'll be with you."

Then he calmly watched them get all the sails set, as if he did not consider it necessary for him to lend a hand, and as if he had no idea of doing so on any condition if he could avoid it.

Browning was lazy, and he knew it. He made no attempt to conceal the fact; really, he almost seemed to glory in it. At college he was familiarly called, "the Laziest Man on Earth," and it pleased rather than disturbed him.

Ordinarily a lazy man is despised by his companions, but such was not the case with Browning. Genial, big-hearted, strong as a giant, yet gentle as a baby, he made hosts of friends and very few enemies. At one time he had been really ambitious, but that was before the coming of Frank Merriwell to Yale. Browning had been dropped to Merriwell's class and, as there could be but one real leader in the class, he lost his ambition when Merriwell showed his superiority.

But no man had proved a truer friend to Merriwell than the once famous "King of the Sophomores." Browning was not particularly demonstrative in his affection, but he could be depended on in any case of emergency, as Frank had learned, and the big fellow was a good man to have for a backer.

Browning could not be driven to do anything, nor could he be jollied into it, a fact that irritated Hodge more or less.

"There is one thing we do not possess that we should have," said Merry, as Jack came aft and stood near the wheel.

"What's that?"

"A gun."

"Why, you have four or five below."

"I don't mean that kind. We need a small cannon to fire when we anchor and when we get under way. We are not doing the thing properly unless we have one."

"I never thought of that."

"I did not think of it till it was too late to get one in Boston. We'll have to get along for the present without it."

They ran past the end of the breakwater and were opposite the Bay Point Hotel, a handsome summer hotel near the city of Rockland. Outside the harbor they found a breeze that made the White Wings heel over and take a bone in her teeth.

Although the sloop was not in the racing class, Frank was well satisfied with her, for he had discovered that she possessed many good qualities. She could be held pretty near to the wind without yawing and she was not at all cranky, nor did she require much weather helm. Of course, she could not run as near to the wind as a cutter-rigged yacht of the racing class, but she could do better than the ordinary cutter.

The wind was off shore and favorable, so the White Wings seemed to fly that morning. The boys found comfortable positions and enjoyed the sail and the scenery.

Soon Rockland was left behind, disappearing from view behind the point on which the hotel sat. And then the Camden mountains began to loom higher and higher to the northwest.

"We met a warm reception in Rockland," said Frank. "I wonder how it will be in Camden."

The sunshine was bright on the blue bay. The distant islands looked inviting, and there was something about the cool greenness of the woods along the shore that was soothing to the eye.

It was not long before Rockport lighthouse came into view. Beyond the lighthouse they saw the narrow harbor and the village, with the houses seeming to cling to the heights that surrounded the harbor. From the limekilns rose black smoke that added to the picturesque charm of the scene.

But Rockport was quickly passed and Negro Island, at the mouth of Camden harbor, was before them. There was a lighthouse on the island, standing there like an old woman in a white dress and black cap.

Now the mountains, seeming to rise from the very sea, were near at hand and strikingly beautiful, clothed in their summer garments of green. On the top of the nearest mountain stood a hotel with a high observation tower.

"Boys," cried Diamond, "I am going up there and stop a week!"

"I wonder how anybody ever gets up there," grunted Browning. "I shall not go if I have to climb."

"No need to tell us that," said Hodge. "We knew it."

As they came abreast Negro Island, two girls came down on the rocks and waved handkerchiefs to them. The boys returned the salute, and Hans Dunnerwust cried:

"Vale, uf I ain'd got a mash you vos a liar! Uf id vasn't for gettin' my feets vet, I vould valk ashore righd avay kveek alretty. Yaw!"

Then he waved his cap to the girls, kissed his hands, bowed low with his hand on his heart, and nearly fell overboard as Merry suddenly brought the yacht up closer into the wind.

"Oxcuse me uf I stayed righd in Camden der rest uf your life," said Hans, as he gathered himself up. "Dalk apout peaches! Vale, vot peen der madder mit dose!"

The others smiled at his enthusiasm.

Passing the island, they came in full view of the harbor and town. Several vessels and yachts lay in the harbor. Amid the trees the tastily painted, red-roofed cottages were to be seen. Far up at the head of the harbor rose handsome brick buildings. Church spires could be seen here and there. From the flagstaff of a hotel on the heights floated the American flag. On the black rocks under the shadow of the trees that stood far above the shore was a picnic party, the blue smoke of their fire rising from their midst. To the south of the town lay a beautiful cove with a sandy beach. Summer cottages could be seen on the point beyond the cove. To the north of the town was another cove and a heavily wooded point. In an opening of the trees on this point stood white tents.

And over all hung the mountains, the village seeming to have clambered up the side of the nearest one as far as it could go.

It was a most beautiful and captivating scene that glorious summer morning, and it is not strange that stoical Bart Hodge uttered an exclamation of admiration, while Frank Merriwell cried:

"Hurrah, fellows! Here we are, and from the looks of things we'll stay a while. There looms old Mount Megunticook, and here in the harbor, under its shadow, we will anchor. Boys, aren't you glad you came?"

"You bet?" cried every one of them.