"What do you live on then?" asked Herrick.
"Fruit, vegetables and plain water. I do not often touch tea."
"Don't you think that is unhealthy?"
"No, I feel alright Dr. Jim. I am never ill. Ida is always fussing over me, but I am much stronger than I look."
"Appearances are deceptive then," said Herrick dryly, and rose to go to the library. "I suppose you do not smoke Sidney, you are too young to indulge in that. Perhaps you do though?"
"I never smoke, I never will. I suppose I am different from other boys, but all the things they like to do I dislike."
Herrick thought that this was the queerest lad he had ever met, but for the moment he dropped the subject. After a time he began to talk sport to see if Sidney would take any interest in it. The boy answered politely but was obviously bored. Not even the account of a tiger hunt with which Herrick strove to rouse him, had any effect. The doctor more puzzled than ever, and recollecting what Santiago had said, changed the tone of the conversation. He spoke of the fakirs in India, of their self-mortifications, and the visions they asserted they had. This was strange conversation for a boy of sixteen, but then Sidney was a freak. He woke up upon this topic, and began to talk brightly. His face became animated, a look of interest came into his eyes, and he talked in a way so far above his years that Herrick was astounded.
"I seem to know India," said Sidney, "often times I see pictures of in it my mind. The bright blue skies, the brilliant vegetation, the queerly-dressed people. And the long range of mountains," he continued as in a dream, "peaks of snow against a cold sky. Those must be the Himalaya Mountains."
"You have read about India," said Herrick, "and so it has impressed itself on your mind."
"No! I know more about the country than I have read. It is just as if I had once lived there."