“Fiddledy-dee! What do you mean by talking such bosh as that to me? I believe you have a soft place in your head, Wolf. Joe Poole says you treated him like a lord. I don’t keep a yacht for the accommodation of Wimpleton. If you mean to sell out to the other side, do so at once.” “I have no such intention;” and I was on the point of defending myself by saying that the colonel had made me several handsome offers, which I had declined; but I concluded such a defence would do me no good, and only irritate the major. “Of course I should not expect you to let even Wimpleton drown; but you have overdone the thing; you ought to have put him ashore at Southport, or Port Gunga.” “He wanted to come home, sir.” “No matter if he did; I don’t keep a yacht for his use.” “I am sorry I have offended you, sir,” I added; but I could not regret what I had done. “Don’t do it again. The less you do for the other side, the better you will suit me,” he continued, more gently, evidently because his anger had expended itself, rather than because he accepted my apology. “How did you get along with the boat?” “First rate, sir.” “Wolf, I have been uneasy all night about those boys on the island. I have been afraid the Wimpleton scoundrels would tear up the railroad track, and I have kept the dummy going every hour since dark. I am tired out. I am afraid they will have a fight up at the Horse Shoe, and somebody will get killed. I’m going to bed now; but I want you to run up there, and have an eye upon the boys. You need not go very near the island, but be sure you know what the students are about. The Wimpleton boys have camped on the Shooter, and the two sides are not more than forty rods apart. If things go wrong there, you will run over to Grass Springs, and send me word by Lewis Holgate.” Having delivered his instructions, Joe Poole landed the major before his house. With the assistance of Skotchley and Tom Walton, I hoisted the mainsail and got up the anchor. When Joe returned, both of my companions “pitched into” him for telling the major that I had treated his enemy “like a lord.” “I only told the truth,” replied Joe. “But I didn’t mean to do Wolf any harm.” “Didn’t you know any better?” added Tom. “I thought I was doing a good thing for Wolf, when I said that he had treated the colonel so well, after he had used him so shabbily.” “Humph, you are a Sunday school scholar!” sneered Tom. “So am I, Tom,” I interposed. “I don’t blame Joe for telling only the truth, and I should have told the major myself if he had not.” This remark quieted the sneerer, and I think that Sunday school doctrine had the better of the argument. Tom ran up the jib, and, passing through the Narrows, I headed the Grace for the Horse Shoe. Tom had slept three or four hours, while I had not yet closed my eyes. I gave him the helm, and directing him to call me when we came up with the islands, I stretched myself on the cushioned locker, and dropped asleep.