“Just now you seemed to stick up for the Wimpleton side.” “I was only stating the case just as it is. My sympathies are on this side; but I don’t blame Colonel Wimpleton for not being willing to have his facilities for going to and from Ucayga cut off.” “You don’t blame him!” “Certainly not.” “I believe you are only half a Top now, Wolf. Just now you were condemning us for standing up for our own rights. Be on one side or the other, old fellow.” “I am willing to fight for the side that gives me bread and butter, as long as it stands by the right.” “I don’t like this making reservations. I go the whole figure. My country, right or wrong--that’s what I go for.” “So do I. My country, right or wrong; if wrong, to set her right.” “There you spoil all the poetry of the thing. If you had stopped before you put the last sentence on, it would have been just the thing. I go for Toppleton, right or wrong.” “I don’t,” I replied, decidedly. “I am for keeping Toppleton right, and then I go for Toppleton.” “What’s the use of talking, Wolf! You can’t make me believe you are not right on the goose,” added Faxon, good-naturedly. “When will that magnificent steamer be launched?” “I don’t know; but father said the hull was nearly completed. I suppose they can’t get her ready for service before August or September; perhaps not till next spring.” “And then she is to run in opposition to the Lake Shore Railroad?” “That’s the idea, I believe.” “There will be jolly times then; but she can’t do anything against our lightning express.” “I’m not so sure of that.” “Come, Wolf! You are a Wimp at heart, after all. The fellows would mob you if they should hear you sticking up for the other side,” added Faxon. “I’m not sticking up for the other side,” I replied, smartly, for I did not relish this charge. “I’m only looking the facts fair in the face. The Wimps’ steamer will give you a hard run. Look at it for yourself.” “I don’t believe the Wimps can get ahead of us, any how--I won’t believe it!” persisted Faxon. “How far is it from Middleport to Ucayga?” I asked. “Twenty miles, to a rod.” “How long will it take the lightning express to go through?” “Half an hour,” replied Faxon, sharply. “Not much! We should have a smash every day at that rate. The track is not stiff enough to make that time upon. Call it forty minutes; and that is high speed for this light rail.” “Well, forty minutes. You don’t mean to say any steamer can make twenty miles in that time?” “Hold on a minute! How wide is the river at Ucayga?” “Half a mile.” “Good; we have to land our passengers on this side of the river. To take the trains east and west, they must cross the river, and do the same when they visit the town. How long will that take in the old sail-boat ferry?” “I don’t know,” replied Faxon, nettled by the force of the argument, which he could not answer.