others are actively employed, and I couldn't let them go without a
serious interference with my business."

The old man blinked sorrowfully across the waters at the opposite
shore. It was quite evident that he realized what a dreadful expense
the club was about to be put to, and while of course there would be
profit in it for him, he was sincerely sorry for them.

"I repeat," he added, "those boats you could have had for nothing,
but the others I'd have to charge you for, though of course I'll give
you a discount."

And he blinked again, as he meditated upon whether that discount
should be an eighth or one-quarter of one per cent.

"The Flying Dutchman," he pursued, "ain't no good for your purposes.
She's too fast. She's built to fly by, not to stop. You'd catch up
with the House-boat in a minute with her, but you'd go right on and
disappear like a visionary; and as for the Ark, she'd never do--with
all respect to Mr. Noah. She's just about as suitable as any other
waterlogged cattle-steamer'd be, and no more--first-rate for
elephants and kangaroos, but no good for cruiser-work, and so slow
she wouldn't make a ripple high enough to drown a gnat going at the
top of her speed. Furthermore, she's got a great big hole in her
bottom, where she was stove in by running afoul of--Mount Arrus-root,
I believe it was called when Captain Noah went cruising with that
menagerie of his."

"That's an unmitigated falsehood!" cried Noah, angrily. "This man
talks like a professional amateur yachtsman. He has no regard for