Then you are sure it wasn't you? I'm mixed, I know."
"Do you remember how the boy was lost?"
"No—excepting that it happened in this country. It's so long ago, so long ago! And my head spins like a reel."
"Did you leave this man at Cavasa Island?" asked Mr. Wadsworth.
"I reckon I did,—but I don't know where he is now."
"Can you tell anything more about him?" asked Dave.
"Maybe, some other time. My head is in a twist now." The old tar was beginning to grow excited. "The sea sings in my ears and the lighthouses dance before my eyes. I wish I was on the old ship again."
"What ship was it?"
"I can't remember her name—I can't remember any names, only faces." The sailor muttered something under his breath and then began to tramp the floor and give orders, as if he was on the deck of a ship.
"You had better not ask any more questions," whispered the attendant. "He may grow violent."
"We'll come again some other day," said Oliver Wadsworth, and then he and Dave withdrew.
"Mr. Wadsworth, do you think there is any-
