oom and opened a big cupboard
by the window, which I saw to be full of victuals.

"I forget to eat, myself, when the instruments hustle me," said he,
thoughtfully; "that's a bad habit, anyway. Suppose you display your
energy by setting supper. There are tinned things here and eggs, I
believe. You'll find firewood and fresh meat in the kitchen yonder.
Here's something to keep the fog out of your lungs while you get it."

[Illustation: We were all sitting at the supper-table.]

He tossed a respirator across the table, and Peter Bligh was away to
the kitchen before you could count two. It was a relief to have
something to do, and right quickly our fellows did it. We were all
(except little Dolly Venn, who wanted his strength yet) sitting at the
supper table when half an hour had passed and eating like men who had
fasted for a month. To-morrow troubled the seamen but little. It did
not trouble Peter Bligh or Seth Barker that night, I witness.

A strange scene, you will admit, and one not readily banished from the
memory. For my part, I see that room, I see that picture many a time in
the night watches on my ship or in the dreaming moments of a seaman's
day. The great machines of glass and brass rise up again about me as
they rose that night. I watch the face of the American doctor, sharp
and clear-cut and boyish, with the one black curl across the forehead.
I see Peter Bligh bent double over the table, little Dolly Venn's eyes
looking up bravely at me as he tries to tell us that all is well with
him. The same curious sensations of doubt and uncertainty come again to
plague me. What escape was there from that place? What escape from the
island? Who was to help us in our plight? Who was to befriend little
Ruth Bellenden now? Would the ship ever come back? Was she above or
below the sea? Would the sleep-time endure long, and should we live
through it? Ah! that was the thing to ask them. More especially to ask
this clever man, whose work I made sure it was to answer the question.

"We thank you, doctor," I said to him, at one time; "we owe our lives
to you this night. We sha'n't forget that, be sure of it."

"I'll never eat a full meal again but I'll remember the name of
Doctor--Doctor--which reminds me that I don't know your name, sir,"
added Peter Bligh, clumsily. The doctor smiled at his humour.

"Dr. Duncan Gray, if it's anything to remember. Ask for Duncan Gray, of
Chicago, and one man in a thousand will tell you