The boys all had remarkably good appetites, and therefore dinner was no unimportant event in the experience of the day.  Somehow, boys contrive to be hungry at almost all times of the day, even without the stimulus of pulling three hours at an oar.  There was something, too, in the circumstance of dining in a beautiful grove, on the bank of the river, with their boats floating near them, which rendered the occasion peculiarly pleasant-which made their cold meat, doughnuts, and apple pie taste much better than usual.

But the adventure was not yet completed.  The head waters of navigation had not been reached, and their love of exploring did not permit them to spend any unnecessary time over the meal.  Tony and his oarsmen had reported themselves at the grove, and after “bolting” their dinner, had resumed their occupation; and the boys perceived the Dip half a mile up the river before they were ready to start.

“All aboard!” said Frank; and the crews, hastily gathering up their tin pails, and their baskets, tumbled into the boats.

The Zephyr led off, followed by the other boats of the squadron.

“I see no buoys ahead,” said Frank, after they had advanced some distance.  “The navigation must be unobstructed.”

“It looks like deep water,” answered Charles.

“And Tony’s crew are pulling very hard; they are going faster than we do.”

“He is trying to gain time against he reaches a bad place.  There he goes round the bend.  Were you ever up here before, Frank?”

“I have been to Oaklawn, which is about four miles from Rippleton.  Of course I never came up the river.”

“Wouldn’t it be fine if we could get up to Oaklawn?”

“Perhaps we can.”

“This is smooth work,” continued Frank.  “Can’t we give a little variety to the excursion?”

“What?”

“Hoist the yellow, signalman,” replied the commodore.  “We will pull a while in sections of two, and sing some songs.”

Obedient to the signal, the boats of the fleet came into the order prescribed, and the boys waked up the hills and the woods with the earnestness of their song.  It was a beautiful and cheering sight to see them gliding over the clear waters, while their voices mingled with those of the songsters which nature had given to the hillside and the forest.  Their hearts were glad, and in beautiful unison with the scene around them.

“Rapids!” exclaimed Frank, when the boat reached the bend.  “Up with the blue!”

“Steady!” added Charles.  “Pull slowly.”

“Tony has been very busy,” continued Frank, pointing to the buoys, that speckled the waters.  I am afraid the cruise is about up.”

“Tony has passed the rapids.  You know steamboats go down the rapids on the St. Lawrence River.”

“Ah, there is Oaklawn,” said Frank, pointing to the spire of a church in the distance.  “We cannot go much farther, I know.”

“We have made nearly four miles.”

What the commodore had styled “rapids” were not a very formidable difficulty.  Near one bank was a ledge of rocks, over which the waters dashed with considerable energy; but though there was the same descent on the other side, no obstruction appeared to check them from attempting the passage.  Tony had accomplished it, and had left no warning to deter them.

“Shall we go through, Frank?”

“Ay; bend on sharp, and she will leap up like a fawn.  Now for it!”

The Zephyrs applied all their strength to the oars, and the boat darted up the rapids with no other detriment than taking in two or three pailfuls of water.

The rest of the fleet followed, with the exception of the Lily, without accident; and she, not having sufficient headway, was carried down again.  By the skill of her coxswain, however, she was saved from damage, and her second attempt was successful.

The navigation was again tolerably safe, and for half a mile they proceeded on their way without interruption.

“There’s a bridge,” said Charles, pointing ahead.

“And there is the Dip, with the red hoisted.  Tony seems to have given it up.  He has made fast to the bridge.”

On the shore was a crowd of men and boys, who were holding a parley with the pilot of the expedition; but when they saw the squadron approaching they seemed petrified with astonishment.  The boys thrust their hands deep in their trousers’ pockets, and with mouths wide open stared in speechless wonder.  The arrival of Columbus on the shores of the new world could not have been more astounding to the natives than was the coming of the Wood Lake squadron to the boys of Oaklawn.

“Sheer off, Charley, to the port side of the river, and we will come into line.  The river is wide enough here, I believe.  Up with the green!”

On dashed the boats in the rear till they came into the line.  The river widened into a kind of pond; but the line stretched clear across it-making a very imposing appearance.

“Slowly; cease-rowing!” continued Frank.  “Ready-up!” and the sixty-eight oars of the fleet glittered in the sunshine before the astonished Oaklawners, who were gathered in great numbers on the shore and bridge.

“Well, Tony, the cruise is up,” said Frank, when the Dip came into line.

“Yes,” replied the pilot, pointing under the bridge, where the river dashed its foaming waters down a long reach of half-exposed rocks.  “We can’t get over those.”

“No; and we may as well land and take a look at Oaklawn.  Hoist the orange.  Ready-down!”

Each boat landed its crew at a convenient place, and they were then marshaled into a procession.  They were formed in sections of four, each crew preceded by its coxswain, with one of the flags on each side of him.  The commodore marched at the head of the company, and in this order they proceeded through the principal street of the village.  Of course their appearance excited a great deal of wonder, and not a little admiration.  Several of the principal citizens, unwilling that their guests should depart unwelcomed, got up an impromptu reception, and the clubs were invited to the Town Hall, where some very pretty speeches were made by the chairman of the Selectmen, of the School Committee, the representative to the General Court, and other distinguished individuals; to whom the commodore replied with a great deal of dignity and self-possession.

While the speeches were proceeding, the ladies were not idle; and the boys were next invited to a collation on the green; after which they marched back to the river and re-embarked.  Three times three cheers were given for the people of Oaklawn, and the word was given to pull for home.

The boys of the village were not so ready to part with them, and some twenty of them followed the boats, on the bank of the river.

“I say, Frank, these folks were very kind to us,” Charles remarked.

“They were, indeed.”

“And the boys seem to enjoy it.”

“I suppose not many of them ever saw our boats before.”

“Suppose we take them in; they will be very willing to walk home, say from the grove where we dined, for the sake of the sail.”

“Good!  I didn’t think of that before.  Up with the orange!”

The boats landed, and the astonished Oaklawn boys were distributed among them.  They seemed to regard the favor as an unexpected condescension, and their delight knew no bounds.  As Little Paul expressed it, “they were tickled half to death”; and when they reached the grove it was a sad and bitter disappointment for them to get out and go home.

“I was thinking of something,” said Charles, a little while after they had landed their passengers.

“What was it, Charley?” replied the commodore.

“That we might invite the boys of Oaklawn to spend a day with us on the lake.”

“Capital!”

“We could give them a picnic on Center Island.”

“We will do it; and now that we know the river we can easily come up as far as the grove after them.”

“Or up to the rapids; there is no danger this side of them.”

This plan was discussed in all its details, and everything was agreed upon by the time they reached the lake.  The passage down the river had been much quicker than the upward trip, and before sunset the boats were all housed, and the clubs had separated.

On the following week the courtesies of the club were extended to the boys of Oaklawn, as arranged by the commodore, and a very fine time they had of it.  Their guests, numbering over forty, were entertained in every conceivable manner-the day’s sports concluding with a grand race, in which all the boats were entered, and in which the Butterfly won the honors.

A new program was made up every week during the vacation.  Lighthouses were built, channels surveyed, shores charted; indeed, everything which the ingenuity of the boys could devise was brought forward to add fresh interest to the sports of the lake.

And thus the season passed away, and winter came again.  The fleet was laid up, and the useful and pleasant recreations of the club rooms were substituted for the active excitement of boating.  Lectures were given, essays were read, debates held, every week; and the progress of the boys out of school, as well as within, was highly satisfactory to all concerned.