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. He then untied the
painter--a long rope by which the scow was fastened to the wharf--and
drew the scow down to the place where he had left the wheelbarrow. He
stood for some moments holding the end of the painter in his hand, and
thinking how he should go to work to get the scow, which was very
heavy and unwieldy, upon the wheelbarrow. But Frank was a true Yankee,
and fruitful in expedients, and he soon hit upon a plan, which he was
about putting into execution, when a strong, cheery voice called out:

"Arrah, me boy! What'll yer be after doing with the boat?"

Frank looked up and saw Uncle Mike, as the boys called him--a
good-natured Irishman, who lived in a small rustic cottage not far
from Mrs. Nelson's--coming down the bank.

"Good morning, Uncle Mike," said Frank, politely accepting the
Irishman's proffered hand and shaking it cordially. "I want to get
this scow up to my shop; but I'm afraid it is a little too heavy for
me to manage."