down on the sand by the
sailor. "I'd dearly like to sail across to France to-day."

"How comes it you're not to school?" asked the man.

"School's done. Next month I go to Oxford, to Oriel College. Methinks
'tis a great shame to spend one's time studying when there's so much
else to be done in the world. The only books I like are those that tell
of far-away lands and adventures and such things. But to Oxford I must
go, says father, like a gentleman's son, and so I suppose I must."

He lay out on the sand, his head resting in his hands, his eyes gazing
up to the sky. "Tell me, gaffer, if you had your choice of the two,
would you rather be a sailor, or a gentleman of the court, and live at
London, near Queen Elizabeth?"

The man laughed. "I a courtier!" he cried. "I'd die of fright most like.
I've never been to London town, but they say it's a terrible place!"

"Would you rather sail out to the west,--to the Indies, or perhaps to
Guiana?" asked Walter.

The man nodded. "The savages be'nt so terrifyin' to a sailor as the folk
o' London town."

"And in London they might throw you into the Tower," mused Walter.
"You're right, gaffer. 'Tis better to be free, and your own man, even if
'tis only among savages. Think you England will be at war soon?"

The sailor looked up from his net, and glanced out across the bay. "I
figure you'll live long enough to do some fightin', lad. Them Spanish
dons be plannin' for to sweep the seas of Englishmen."

Walter sat up, and followed the man's gaze out to sea. "That they'll
never do," said he, "as long as there are Devon men to build a boat and
man it. But if there is a war I'm going to it, aye, as certain as we two
be sitting here in Budleigh Bay."

"War's a fearsome thing, lad," said the sailor. "I've fought the pirates
in the south, and I've seen sights would turn a man's hair gray in a
night. 'Tis no holiday work to fight across your decks."

"Tell me about it," begged the boy, sitting up and clasping his knees in
his hands. "I love to hear of fights and strange adventures."

So, while the sailor worked over his net he talked of his wanderings, of
his cruises, of his battles, of his flights, and the boy, his eyes wide
with admiration, drank in the yarns. Mariner never found a better
audience than this small boy of the Devon coast.

It was long past noon when the sailor and Walter left the beach. The boy
went back through the wood to the house, and made his lunch in the
pa