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“I’ve done some queer things in my life,” said the sailor, as if addressing some one near him, “but that was the first time I ever ordered my mate to stand by to put a stone house about.”

Uncle Dick had a keen sense of the ludicrous, and considering the story as altogether too good to be kept to himself, he told it to the family the next morning; and a merrier breakfast party than that which gathered around Mr. Gaylord’s table was never seen anywhere. The members of the household were kept in a broad grin for several days afterward, and even now the old sailor would roar out heartily whenever he thought of it.

This was but one of the many laughable incidents, of which Uncle Dick was the hero, that happened in the mansion during the year; but if we should stop to relate them, we should never begin the story of the Sportsman’s Club’s adventures.

Walker’s room and Eugene’s was in the second story of the house. It was a large, cheerful apartment, nicely furnished, and contained three beds—enough to accommodate all the members of the Club. Any one who had taken a single glance at the room, would have gained a pretty good idea of the tastes and habits of its young masters. The walls were adorned with pictures of hunting scenes, regattas and boat-races, and with flags, pennants and trophies of the chase. In one corner stood a book-case containing a fine library; in another were deposited several pairs of Indian clubs and dumb-bells; and a third seemed to be used as an armory, for it was filled with rifles and shot-guns of all sizes and lengths, each weapon enclosed in a case of strong cloth, to protect it from the dust. Occupying a prominent place over the mantel was the flag which had been the cause of so much hard feeling on the part of Bayard Bell. It was made of blue silk, and in its centre bore the word “Champion!” in gold letters. It was the handiwork of Emma Bell and some of her friends, and had been made at the suggestion of Bayard, who declared that he and his men could pull much faster if they had something besides the championship to work for. Lucy Conklin, the pretty cousin of one of Bayard’s crew, was selected to present the flag to the winning boat. She expected to have the pleasure of giving it to Bayard, who was her favorite; and when Walter Gaylord, with his cap in his hand, and his handsome face flushed with exercise and triumph, stepped upon the tug where she was standing, and approached to receive the colors, Lucy was so surprised and indignant that she forgot the neat little speech she had prepared for the occasion, and handed the flag to the victor without saying a word. The Club thought a great deal of that little piece of blue silk, and were determined to keep it.