water, and sprang into
it in the highest spirits. Just as they were pushing off they saw Wright
and Vernon running down to the shore towards them, and they waited to
see what they wanted. "Couldn't you take us with you?" asked Vernon,
breathless with his run.

"I'm afraid not, Verny," said Montagu; "the boat won't hold more than
six, will it, Jim?"

"No, sir, not safely."

"Never mind, you shall have my place, Verny," said Eric, as he saw his
brother's disappointed look.

"Then Wright shall take mine," said Wildney.

"O dear no," said Wright, "we wouldn't turn you out for the world.
Vernon and I will take an immense walk down the coast instead, and will
meet you here as we come back."

"Well, good bye, then; off we go;" and with light hearts the boaters and
the pedestrians parted.

Eric, Graham, Duncan, and Montagu took the first turn at the oars, while
Wildney steered. Graham's "crabs," and Wildney's rather crooked
steering, gave plenty of opportunity for chaff, and they were full of
fun as the oar-blades splashed and sparkled in the waves. Then they made
Jim sing them some of his old sailor songs as they rowed, and joined
vigorously in the choruses. They had arranged to make straight for St.
Catherine's Head, and land somewhere near it to choose a place for their
pic-nic. It took them nearly two hours to get there, as they rowed
leisurely, and enjoyed the luxury of the vernal air. It was one of the
sunniest days of early spring; the air was pure and delicious, and the
calm sea breeze, just strong enough to make the sea flame and glister in
the warm sunlight, was exhilarating as new wine. Underneath them the
water was transparent as crystal, and far below they could see the green
and purple sea-weeds rising like a many-colored wood, through which
occasionally they saw a fish, startled by their oars, dart like an
arrow. The sky overhead was a cloudless blue, and as they kept not far
from shore, the clearly cut outline of the coast, with its rocks and
hills standing out in the vivid atmosphere, made a glowing picture, to
which the golden green of the spring herbage, bathed in its morning
sunlight, lent the magic of enchantment. Who could have been otherwise
than happy in such a scene and at such a time? but these were boys with
the long bright holiday before them, and happiness is almost too quiet a
word to express the bounding exultation of heart, the royal and tingling
sense of vigorous life, which made them s