The Wimpletonians had a whole fleet of boats, including the dozen or more that belonged to the Institute, and several bateaux, loaded with tents and baggage. The wind was light early in the day, and as they had to sail a dozen miles before they reached their destination, they were not likely to arrive at the island before us. Major Toppleton had ordered the tug steamer to be at Grass Springs to convey the students to the Horse Shoe, and she had towed a number of boats for the use of the battalion. “We must hurry up, Wolf,” said Faxon, who, as usual, was on the engine with me, after glancing at the aquatic procession on the lake. “It will take the Wimps three hours to reach the Horse Shoe with this breeze,” I replied. “Our party will arrive in an hour.” “There may be some delay at the Springs. We don’t know that the steamer will be there when we arrive.” “Didn’t Major Toppleton send her to the Springs?” I asked, not being aware that there was any contingency. “He sent her to Ucayga last night with a freight of flour, and told Captain Underwood to be at Grass Springs at eight o’clock, if possible. She may be late. She did not leave Middleport till dark, and of course she must discharge her cargo this morning. If there should be no steamer ready for us, what shall we do?” “Where are our boats?” I inquired. “I suppose Captain Underwood left them at the wharf at the Springs, as he passed, or possibly at the Horse Shoe. I only know what Tommy told me, just before we started.” “There is a chance for a slip, after all,” I added. “I think there is a big chance for a slip. If the Wimps get to the island first, there will be a big fight, for our fellows don’t wish for any better fun than driving them off.” “And perhaps the Wimps would like no better fun than that of driving the Tops off.” “Possession is nine points, you know, and the side which gets a footing on the island first has the best chance,” replied Faxon, cheerfully; and though he did not bluster so much as some others, I knew that he was “ready to go his length” in opposition to the enemy. “It looks like a fight, any way you can fix it,” I added. “Why couldn’t our fellows have chosen some other place to encamp?” “Because the Horse Shoe suits them best. There is a good wharf at the island, and plenty of dry wood for the fires.” “I don’t see the use of quarrelling when there are a hundred other places just as good as that.” “What’s the matter, Wolf? Have you no stomach for a fight?” laughed Faxon. “No; I have not.” “But you are regarded by the fellows as a regular fighting-cock. Your affairs with Waddie and with--” Faxon checked himself, as he glanced at Lewis Holgate, the fireman--“you know whom, are the foundation of your popularity with them.” “I am willing to fight in a good cause; but I don’t believe in bringing on a quarrel.”