I had written out a plan for the running of the Ucayga an entire day. I had studied it out very carefully, and made all the allowances I deemed necessary. The basis of our anticipated success was the fact that our boat would make sixteen miles an hour, while the old steamers were good for only ten, or when crowded, for twelve, at the most. Waddie looked at my time-table; but he did not exhibit any enthusiasm, and I concluded that he did not understand it.
“What do you think of it?” I inquired, somewhat amused by the puzzled expression on his face.
“I dare say it is first-rate; but I don’t exactly know what all these figures mean. I see Hitaca on the paper, but of course you don’t mean to go up there.”
“That’s just what I mean,” I replied.
“Go to Hitaca!” exclaimed Waddie.
“Certainly—go to Hitaca.”
“But my father promised the people of Centreport and Ruoara that they should have two boats a day to Ucayga, and if you go up to the head of the lake, you can’t possibly make two trips a day from there.”
“That’s very true; nevertheless, we will go to Hitaca once every day, and still make the two trips, as your father promised.”
“Don’t understand it,” answered Waddie, hitching about in his chair.
“I’ll tell you about it. We are in Centreport now.”