CHAPTER I.

MR. SPICKLES FROM THE METROPOLIS.

"I can't go on board now, Spickles," said Matt Randolph, in a very decided tone, and with an expression on his manly face which indicated that he did not wish to go, even if he could.

"What's the reason you can't?" demanded Spickles, evidently very much dissatisfied with the decision of the other.

"Because I have something else to do," added Matt. "I have to attend to my duties as closely here as though I were an officer in the navy, on sea-duty."

"What's the use of being tied up as though you were a prisoner at Sing Sing?" asked Spickles, his disgust apparent on his rather brutal face. "Your father is as rich as mud, and there is no need of your being kept in a strait-jacket."

"I am not kept in a strait-jacket," protested Matt, very warmly.

"I think you are," returned Spickles, with a curling sneer on his thick lips. "When I saw you in New York a year ago, you told me what a big thing Lake Champlain was."

"I still think it is the finest sheet of water in the world, and the region around it is a perfect paradise."

"Paradise!" exclaimed the visitor from the metropolis. "You said there was lots of fun to be had here."

"I find plenty of amusement for all the spare hours I have."

"After what you said, I kept thinking of this place; and five of our fellows have come up here, and chartered a schooner for the summer. She is anchored out in the river; and now that we are here, you will not even go on board of her," continued Spickles, becoming more and more disgusted with the refusal of the captain of the Lily; for such he was, and his "class in sailing" were about ready to go on board of the schooner.

"I am the skipper of that schooner you see out in the lake, and I have to go out in her in a short time," Matt explained.

"Put it off; let the party wait till you come back," insisted the visitor.

"We don't do things in that way here," added Matt, with a smile.

"Tell them you are sick, and can't go," suggested Spickles.

"But I am not sick."

"You were not always above stretching the truth a little in an emergency."

"I am now." Matt did not blush in saying it, either.

"We are going to stay on the lake all summer, if we don't get tired of it," continued Spickles. "I depended upon having you with us, Matt; for we don't know much about the navigation in these waters, though we have the government charts."

"I don't see how you could depend upon me, for I told you that I was under strict discipline in the Beech Hill Industrial School," argued Matt. "I can't come and go when I will."

"Confound the Beech Hill Industrial School! Run away from it, and join our party for the summer."

"I certainly shall not run away from it, for I am perfectly contented and happy here," replied Matt.

"At least you will come on board of the La Motte?"

"What's the La Motte?"

"She's the schooner we chartered for the summer, though she's nothing but a lumber-vessel fixed up for our use. She sails very well, and is large enough for a party of ten. We found her at Rouse's Point. Now, come on board of her. We have just opened a keg of beer in view of your expected visit," said Spickles, in the most persuasive tones he could command.

"I don't drink beer," answered the student of the school.

"You don't drink beer!" exclaimed the visitor, stepping back in his apparent astonishment. "How long has that been?"

"I haven't tasted beer, or any thing of the kind, since I came to this school, about two years ago," replied the captain of the Lily.

"Then, it was only because you couldn't get any beer."

"Perhaps that is one reason, though I haven't tried to get any. I had it all about me while I was at home in New York, but I had decided not to take any under any circumstances."

"Then, it is time for you to begin again. Come along, Matt."

"No beer for me, and I cannot go with you," added Matt resolutely. "I made up my mind a year ago not to drink any thing that fuddles, and to keep out of bad company."

"Bad company!" exclaimed Spickles, looking earnestly into the face of his former associate in the city.

"That is what I said; and I advise you to do the same thing, Spickles. It is best to keep on the safe side of the evils of this world."

"You are a regular built parson!"

This conversation was continued for some time longer, but the captain of the Lily remained as firm as the rocks in the quarry above Beechwater. The visitor was not only disgusted with his want of success in enticing his former companion to the schooner in the river, but he was offended at what he considered the stiffness of Matt. When the latter spoke of keeping out of bad company, he put the coat on, whether he saw that it fitted him or not.

"You are an out-and-out spooney now, Matt Randolph; and I did not think that of you," said Spickles, as the crew of the Lily began to gather on the wharf, where the conversation had taken place.

"Just as you please, Spickles," replied Matt, with a smile; and he seemed to feel that the interview had come to a desirable point, and that his former associate would drop him from the roll of his friends.

"But I want to look about this place a little before I leave it forever," added the visitor. "I suppose I can do so?"

"Certainly, upon application to the principal, Captain Gildrock. He will show you all over the establishment," replied Matt. "There he comes, and I will introduce you."

"All right. Chuckworth! Mackwith!" answered Spickles, calling to his two companions in the boat.

The three young men appeared to be about eighteen or twenty years old. They were dressed in yachting costume, and a person of experience in the ways of the world would at once have set them down as fast young men. They were of the reckless order, swaggering, defiant, boisterous. If a lady had seen them together, she would have taken the other side of the street.

Captain Gildrock was coming down the wharf, to look after the embarkation of the sailing-class. Matt Randolph presented Spickles to the principal, and left the chief of the party to introduce his companions.

"You are the boss of this concern, I take it, Captain Gilthead," said Spickles, suddenly putting on his usual style, and in a sort of patronizing tone, as if the principal had been a country schoolmaster, who ought to consider himself honored by being noticed by a young gentleman from the metropolis.

In fact, Captain Spickles, as his companions on board of the La Motte called him, was determined to "take him down" a little. The visitor, after what Matt had said to him about the discipline of the institution, regarded him with a sort of instinctive hatred. He did not like any one who disciplined young men. Principals, professors, schoolmasters, were monsters, ogres, tyrants, whose only mission in the world was to tease, torture, and torment young fellows like himself.

Captain Gildrock looked at him with a puzzled expression on his dignified face; though the usual smile when he was in repose, played about his mouth. He read the young man almost at the first glance; and if he had considered the popinjay worthy of his steel, he would have prepared for a skirmish of words with him.

"I said 'Captain Gildrock,'" interposed Matt, with emphasis enough to clear himself; for he saw that the fellow had purposely miscalled the name.

"Excuse me, Captain Goldblock."

"Certainly, Mr. Spittle," added the principal blandly.

"Mr. Spickles, if you please," interposed the visitor, who did not at all relish being paid off in his own coin.

"Precisely so, Mr. Spiddles," laughed the principal; while Matt had to turn away to hide his choking laugh.

"My name is Spickles, Captain Goldblock."

"Ah, indeed, Mr. Skiggles! Permit me to add that mine is Gildrock."

"Well, Captain Gildrock"--

"Well, Mr. Spickles"--

"I suppose you are the boss of this concern. Will you show it up?"

"I am the principal of this institution."

"Possibly I shall be able to entertain these visitors alone, Randolph, and you may go on board with your ship's company," said Captain Gildrock, a little later, while he was waiting for the young gentleman from New York to study up his next question.

Matt had twelve students to instruct in the art of sailing a boat, and he directed them to take their places in the two boats that were waiting for them.

"Well, boss, we are ready to see what you have got to show," said Spickles.

"Well, my young cub, I don't know that things here will interest you, but I will show you all you may wish to see," continued the captain, as he conducted the strangers to the office, under the schoolroom. "We register all students here when they come. If they have any money, we keep it for them in that steel safe."

"Is that a steel safe?" asked Mr. Spickles. "Upon my word, I thought it was a wooden one."

"You thought it was made of the same material as your head; but I assure you it is not. Nothing so soft would answer the purpose," answered the principal, who did not always stand on his dignity, though he had plenty of it.

Messrs. Chuckworth and Mackwith turned away, and indulged in audible smiles. Associated with Mr. Spickles, they were often the victims of his peculiar humor, and they were not at all sorry to have him put under the harrow. They enjoyed the remarks of the principal more than Spickles did.

"Then, it is really a steel safe; and I suppose you are afraid the students will steal your money, or you wouldn't have a steel safe," continued Mr. Spickles, chuckling as though he thought he had made a pun.

"Well, no; we hardly expect the students to rob the safe, for they are taught not to steal; but some of these visitors might have a taste for that sort of thing. I sometimes have a thousand dollars in that safe, besides small sums belonging to the students. In fact, I believe I have two thousand dollars in it at this moment: that is the reason why I prefer a steel safe to a wooden one."

The principal showed the visitors over the premises, though they took very little interest in the institution. Spickles indulged in impudent remarks, which the captain parried in his own way, so that he soon got tired of making them; for every time he did so, his friends had a chance to laugh at him, and enjoy the retort.

If Spickles disliked the principal in the first of it, he hated him in the end. A sharp answer made him mad when they had finished the survey, and he was so saucy that Captain Gildrock ordered him to leave. He did not take the hint; and the principal took him by the collar, dragged him to the wharf, and tumbled him into the boat. The leader of the summer party vowed vengeance to his companions.