"Well," he soliloquized, "my chance of getting a sail-boat this season
is rather slim, I'm afraid. But I've made up my mind to have one, and
I won't give it up now. Let me see! I wonder how the Sunbeam [meaning
his skiff] would sail? I mean to try her. No," he added, on second
thought, "she couldn't carry canvas enough to sail with one of the
village yachts. I have it!" he exclaimed at length, springing to his
feet. "The Speedwell! I wonder if I couldn't make a sloop of her. At
any rate, I will get her up into my shop and try it."
Frank, while he was paying a visit to his cousin in Portland, had
witnessed a regatta, in which the Peerless, a large, schooner-rigged
scow, had beaten the swiftest yachts of which the city boasted; and he
saw no reason why his scow could not do the same. The idea was no
sooner conceived than he proceeded to put it into execution. He sprang
up the bank, with Brave close at his heels, and in a few moments
disappeared in the wood-shed. A large wheelbarrow stood in one corner
of the shed, and this Frank pulled from its place, and, after taking
off the sides, wheeled it down to the creek, and placed it on the
beach, a little distance below the wharf.
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