Part 26 (2/2)

”That's a good-looking boat, Captain Coombs,” he said, in tones that could be heard far away. ”She's all right; just what I want. I like a boat with plenty of room for the ladies to be comfortable.”

”Well, I reckon she's the best boat on Whitecap pond,” responded the man, while his small eyes twinkled shrewdly. ”Just humour her a bit, and I reckon she'll go where anything of her size will. She's seen some rough times on this pond.”

The appearance of the _Flyaway_ seemed to bear out this statement.

”Sure you can handle her all right, are you, Mr. Bangs?” added Captain Coombs, eying his customer with a quick, sidelong glance.

”Well, I reckon,” was the bluff reply.

Captain Coombs, possibly not all a.s.sured, gave an inquiring look toward a man who was busy cleaning a rowboat close by, and who seemed to be an interested party of some sort, probably a partner. The man drew his right eye down in an unmistakable wink, and glanced up at the sky. Then he nodded, shrugging his shoulders at the same time, as though he might have said, ”There's no wind; we'll take a chance.”

There was, indeed, scarcely a breath of wind blowing, and there was no present prospect of any.

Mr. Bangs's party began now to arrive: a somewhat fleshy, and withal nervous and agitated lady, who proved to be Mrs. Bangs; two young girls, an angular lady carrying a fat pug dog in her arms, and a small boy.

”Aha, we're all here,” cried Mr. Bangs, joyfully. ”Let's get aboard and be off. Splendid day for a sail, eh, Captain Coombs?”

”Couldn't be better,” replied Coombs, dryly. ”Are those oars in her, Dan?”

”Why, you don't suppose I'm going to row her, do you?” laughed Mr.

Bangs.

”We sometimes has to, when we doesn't want to,” said Coombs laconically. ”No fun staying out all night if the wind dies out.”

”Oh, yes, of course,” responded Mr. Bangs. ”Get aboard, ladies.”

”I don't believe you know how to sail a boat, Augustus,” said Mrs.

Bangs, eying her husband doubtfully. ”Are you sure you do?”

”Nonsense!” snorted Mr. Bangs. ”Don't be getting nervous, now. Don't you know I was elected commodore of the Green Pond Fis.h.i.+ng Club only two weeks ago?”

Mr. Bangs refrained from communicating the fact that the princ.i.p.al occupation of the members of the Green Pond Fis.h.i.+ng Club was the mixing of certain refres.h.i.+ng liquids in tall gla.s.ses, and sipping them on the verandah of a clubhouse.

The party therefore embarked. Mrs. Bangs was not wholly at ease, however.

”Supposing there isn't any wind by and by, Augustus, and you have to row. Why don't you take somebody along, to help? We've got lots to eat.”

This idea, at least, seemed to strike Mr. Bangs favourably. He glanced to where Henry Burns and his companions stood.

”h.e.l.lo,” he called, ”want to go out for a sail? Got room enough. Take you along.”

The three boys stepped toward the boat.

”Not scared of the water, are you?” queried Mr. Bangs.

”Not unless it gets rough,” replied Henry Burns, with a sly wink at Harvey.

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