"You have won the race, Frank, and I congratulate you," said Tony
Weston, as the Butterfly came alongside the Zephyr.

"Thank you, Tony; that is noble and generous," replied Frank.

"But it is the feeling in our club--isn't it, fellows?"

"Ay, ay, that it is!" shouted Little Paul. "Let us give them three
cheers, to show the folks on shore that there are no hard feelings."

The cheers were given lustily--at least, as lustily as the exhausted
condition of the Butterflies would permit. Each member of the defeated
club seemed to feel it his duty to banish even the semblance of envy;
and it was pleasant to observe how admirably they succeeded.

I do not wish my young readers to suppose that Tony's crew felt no
disappointment at the result; only that there were no hard feelings, no
petty jealousy. They had confidently expected to win the race, even up
to the last quarter of a mile of the course; and to have that hope
suddenly dashed down, to be beaten when they felt sure of being the
victors, was regarded as no trivial misfortune. But so thoroughly had
Tony schooled them in the necessity of keeping down any ill will, that
I am sure there was not a hard feeling in the club. Perhaps they
displayed more disinterestedness in their conduct after the race than
they really felt. If they did, it was no great harm, for their motives
were good, and they were all struggling to feel what their words and
their actions expressed.

"Zephyr, ahoy!" hailed Mr. Hyde, from the Sylph.