"That's right; and we're the first after all, you see, because every
fellow has a key, and if any one got in ahead of us we'd notice a light
in the window. Hello! who's that?"

"Think you saw something, did you, Max?" asked the other; "but as there
wasn't any answer, I guess you must have been off your base that time."

"Perhaps I was," replied the other; "but here we are at the door now,
and as I've got my key handy, I'll open up."

The boathouse had once been some sort of low, squatty building, which,
being made over, answered the new purpose very well. And when Max had
started a couple of lamps to burning the prospect was cheery enough.
Several canoes were ranged in racks along one side. Three of these were
single canoes; the other a larger boat, which two of the boys paddled,
and they called it the war canoe.

Hardly had they reached this point than there was heard the sound of a
voice at the door. Steve opened it to admit a panting boy, whose short
lower extremities had a positive inclination to pattern a little after
the type of bows, which gave Bandy-legs the name by which he was known
far and wide.

Then came Owen Hastings, a quiet sort of a fellow, looking very like his
cousin Max; and a minute later Toby Jucklin appeared.

"Now open up, and explain what all this fuss and feathers means?"
demanded Owen, as the five gathered around the table upon which the
larger lamp stood.