started up and came to his side, to bend over and lay a brown
cool hand upon his forehead.

"Feel better?" he said.

"Better?" said Fitz peevishly.

"Yes, of course."

"Why--Here, stop a moment. Who are you?"

"No doubt about it," was the reply. "That's the first time you have
talked sensibly."

"You be hanged!" said Fitz sharply.

But as he spoke it did not seem like his own voice, but as if somebody
else had spoken in a weak, piping tone. He did not trouble himself
about that, though, for his mind was beginning to be an inquiring one.

"Why don't you answer?" he said. "Who are you? What's your name?"

"Poole Reed."

"Oh! Then how came you in my cabin?"

"Well," said the lad, with a pleasant laugh, which made his rather plain
face light up in the warm sunset glow and look almost handsome; not that
that was wonderful, for a healthy, good-tempered boy's face, no matter
what his features, always has a pleasant look,--"I think I might say
what are you doing in my cabin?"

"Eh?" cried Fitz, looking puzzled. "How came I--your cabin--your cabin?
Is it your cabin?"

The lad nodded.

"I don't know," said Fitz. "How did I come here?"

"But it is my cabin--rather."

"Yes, yes; but how did I come here?"

"Why, in the boat."

"In a boat?" said Fitz thoughtfully--"in a boat? I came in a boat?
Yes, I suppose so, because we are at sea. But somehow I don't know how
it is. I can't recollect. But I say, hasn't it turned _very_ warm?"

"Yes. Getting warmer every day."

"But my head--I don't understand."

"Don't you? Well, never mind. How do you feel?"

"Oh, quite well, thank you. But I want to know why I am here--in your
cabin."

"Oh, you will know soon enough. Don't worry about it now till you get
strong again."

"Till I get strong again? There, now you are beginning to puzzle me
once more. I am strong enough now, and--No, I am not," added the lad,
rather pitifully, as he raised one hand and let it fall back. "That arm
feels half numbed as if it had been hurt, and," he added, rather
excitedly, "you asked me how I was. Have I been ill?"

"Yes, very," was the reply. "But don't fret about it. You are coming
all right again fast."

Fitz lay back with his brow wrinkled up, gazing at his companion and
trying to think hard; but all in vain, and with a weary gesticulation--

"I can't understand," he said. "I try to think, but my head seems to go
rolling round again, and I can only reme