ome."

"Twig the flags!" cried Charles Hardy.

"In imitation of the Zephyr," said Frank, laughing heartily.

The boat approached near enough for them to examine her. It was, as
Fred had declared, Joe Braman's boat; but she had been very much
altered. Apparently she had been sawed in two and lengthened out. She
had been painted bright yellow, with a red streak round her; and on the
bows, after the manner of the Zephyr, was inscribed, in black letters,
the name "Thunderbolt," which was in accordance with Tim Bunker's
taste. She was pulled by eight oars, and the redoubtable leader of the
gang sat in the stern-sheets as coxswain. Forward floated a blue cotton
rag, with the letter "T" daubed upon it in white paint, and surrounded
by half a dozen ill-shaped stars. At the stern was a ragged piece of
bunting, which had once been the flag of the Republic, but which had
been curtailed of nine of its stripes and a part of its stars.

The Bunkers evidently had not practised rowing much; for their stroke
was irregular, and they splashed the water about like so many
porpoises. Occasionally one of them got hit in the back by his
neighbor's oar, which produced a great deal of swearing and wrangling
among them. They made but slow progress through the water, and the
Zephyrs could scarcely refrain from laughing at the singular spectacle.

CHAPTER XIV

THE COLLISION

Joe Braman, the alleged proprietor of the Thunderbolt, was an idle,
dissolute fellow, who employed his time in gunning, fishing, and
loitering about the dramshops of Rippleton. He lived on the north
shore. How he obtained his living, it would have been difficult to
determine.

Tim Bunker was an especial favorite with Braman, and people said it was
because there was a natural sympathy between them. Joe's boat was a
long, flat-bottomed affair, not very graceful in its form or
construction. With the exception of Captain Sedley's sailboat and the
club boat, it was, perhaps, the only boat on the lake; and small
parties occasionally engaged Joe to take them out fishing in it.

The history of its present appearance was sufficiently plain to the
Zephyrs. It had been lengthened out, a sharp, false bow attached to it,
painted, and such other improvements made as would fit it for the
purposes of a club boat.

"Isn't she one of the boats?" laughed Charles.

"Silence, forward!" said Frank, shaking his head as a gesture of
warning to the boys not to provoke any ill nat