"Tell me one thing," said the rich manufacturer, "Do you think this Dunston Porter is still at Cavasa Island, or in that locality?"
"I suppose so—I don't know."
"When did you come away from there?" asked Professor Potts.
"It must be nigh on to a year ago. I came straight to 'Frisco, went up the coast on a lumber boat to Puget Sound, and then took passage to New York. Next, I drifted up here to look up some friends, and you know what happened after that."
"Was Dunston Porter alone out there?" questioned Oliver Wadsworth.
"Why—er—I can't say as to that. He didn't say much about himself, that I can remember. Once he told me about that child, but—but it's hazy—I can't think! Oh, it drives me crazy when I try to think! The roar of the sea gets in my ears, and the light from the lighthouse fires my brain!" And the old tar began to pace the floor in a rolling gait.
"He is growing excited!" whispered Caspar Potts. "It is too bad! Were he in his right mind, he might be able to tell us a great deal."
"Supposing we go out and have lunch together," suggested Oliver Wadsworth. "And then we can go for a ride on the lake."
He spoke to the sanitarium manager, and the upshot of the matter was that the whole party went out to a hotel for dinner. Previous to going, Dave gave Billy Dill the satchel and money and the bundle, which seemed to tickle the tar immensely.
"Douse my toplight, but I feel like old times again!" he cried, when they had had a good dinner and were seated on the forward deck of one of the lake boats, used to take out pleasure parties. "Oh, but I love the water!"