sport; that he had travelled abroad for several
years,--had been to China, Japan, India, Egypt; had hunted lions and
elephants, seen the midnight sun, crossed Siberian steppes and African
deserts. From a geographical standpoint, Mr. Wirt's story seemed an open
and extensive map, but biographically it was a blank. Of his personal
history, past, present or future, he said nothing. Altogether, Dan and his
new acquaintance had a pleasant hour on the open deck beneath the stars,
and made friends rapidly.

"I wish you were going our way," said Dan, regretfully, as his companion
announced that he was to get off at the first point they touched. "Brother
Bart is going to granny us all, I know. If we had a real strong man like
you around, he wouldn't scare so easily. And there is fine fishing about
Killykinick, they say."

"So I have heard." The stranger had risen now, and stood, a tall shadow
dimly outlined above Dan. "I--I--perhaps I'll drop in upon you. Isn't it
time for you to turn in now?"

"No," answered Dan,--"not into that packing box below. I'm up here for the
night."

"And I'm off before morning, so it's good-bye and good luck to you!"

And, with a friendly nod, Mr. John Wirt strode away down the darkened
deck, leaving Dan to fling himself back upon his life-preservers, and
wonder how, when, or where he had seen their new acquaintance before,--not
at Saint Andrew's; for Mr. Wirt had been abroad, as he had said, ever
since Dan entered the college; not at Milligans' or Pete Patterson's, or
anywhere about his old home. Perhaps he had blacked his shoes or sold him
a newspaper in some half-forgotten past; for surely there was something in
his tone, his glance, his friendly smile that Dan knew.

He felt quite well now. All the dizziness and nausea had vanished, and he
was his own strong, sturdy self again. The roll and swap of the boat were
only the rock of a giant cradle; the surge of the sea, a deep-toned
lullaby soothing him to pleasant dreams; and the sky! Dan had never seen
such a midnight sky. He lay, with his head pillowed in his clasped hands,
looking up at the starry splendor above him with a wonder akin to awe. The
great, blue vault arching above him blazed with light from a myriad stars,
that his books had told him were worlds greater than this on whose wide
waters he was tossing now,--worlds whose history the wisest of men could
never know,--worlds, thousands and millions of them, moving in shining
order by