hunted, frolicked, and ran the whole gamut of youthful delights. Those
good days are yet vivid in memory; and it is a matter of regret with me
that my grandchildren--as fine boys and girls as ever lived--cannot have
the same wild, wholesome fun at the Sound as fell to my lot when I was a
boy.

The time that I now speak of, however, was about the middle of May, the
balmy month of soft breezes and bright flowers. I had been particularly
studious in school, and my father agreed to let me spend three days at
the Sound in company with a young friend. We arranged our food supply,
took the old family rockaway, and set out early in the morning, as happy
a pair of boys as ever started on a project of pleasure.

After spending an hour or two at the Sound house, arranging our fishing
tackle and looking after the boats, which had been hauled up for the
winter, we started out on a sail towards the beach. It was a fine day
for sailing, and the breeze bore us away as smoothly and quickly as if
we had been in a balloon. As we passed Money Island, we observed a boat
moored on the south side, and tried to locate the occupants; but we
could see nobody, and concluded that it belonged to a fishing party who
had, for some reason, left the boat tied there.

We sailed on; and when we had gone perhaps half a mile away. I happened
to turn around, and was surprised to see two men stealthily embarking in
the boat with what appeared to be shovels and rods of some kind. This
sight was too much for our youthful imagination. So we decided at once
to change our course, and essayed to follow at a distance the movements
of the other boat. This we had no difficulty in doing; and we
afterwards learned that we were successful in our efforts to avoid the
suspicion of purposely following it.