more than the palest
shadow of his father, and yet Larssen was the only person who could not
see this. He was trying to train his boy to hold an empire as though he
were born to rule.

"How clever Mr Dean is!" Olaf was saying.

"Why?"

"Look at the set of wheels he's rigged up for me so as I can sail my
boat on deck." He held up a beautiful model yacht, perfect in line and
rig, with which he was playing. Underneath it was a crudely-made
contrivance of wood and wire, with four corks for wheels--the handiwork
of Arthur Dean.

"Was that your idea?" inquired Larssen.

"No, Dad.... Now, watch me sail her up to windward."

"Wait. You ought to have thought out that idea for yourself."

"I haven't any tools on board, Dad."

"Then go and make friends with the carpenter." Larssen took up the crude
contrivance and looked it over contemptuously. "I want you to think out
a better device; pitch this overboard; then find out where Mr Chips
lives, make friends with him, and get him to construct you a proper set
of wheels to your own design."

The boy looked troubled. "I don't want to throw it overboard!" he
protested. "I want to sail my boat on deck now."

"Sonny, there are heaps of things that are good for you to do which you
won't want to do. It's like being told by the doctor to take medicine.
It's nasty to take, but very good for you.... I want to see you one day
a big strong fellow able to handle men and things--a great big strong
fellow men will be afraid of. That's to be your ambition. You've got to
learn to handle men and things. Here's one way to do it."

"But Mr Dean wouldn't like it if he knew I'd thrown his wheels
overboard."

"Dean is a servant. He's paid to do things for you. His feelings don't
matter.... But you needn't tell him you threw his wheels away. Say they
slipped over the side. Now, get a pencil and paper, and let me see you
work out a better contrivance."

Olaf obeyed, though reluctantly, and presently he was deep amongst the
problems of the inventor. Lars Larssen watched the boy with a tenderness
that few would have given him credit for.

"I've got it! Look, Dad!" cried the boy excitedly, and began to explain
his idea and his tangled drawing.

"Good! That's what I want from you. Now, don't you feel better at having
worked out the idea all on your own?"

"Yes, Dad. I'll go to Mr Chips at once and get it made. In which part of
the ship does he live?"

"You must find that out yourself."