"Then, of course, you know about the poor sailor-man who preferred death to a voyage in the White Squall," continued Roy. "Well, there wasn't any suicide. The fellow who deliberately threw himself into the water was I; and I tell you—Why don't you sit down? I'm as lame as though I had been pounded with a club, although I know I was struck only twice, once in each eye, and almost had my arm jerked out of place. I can't stand long at a time."
Willis mechanically seated himself and listened like one in a dream, while Roy related the following story of his adventure.
ON BOARD THE WHITE SQUALL.
"Just one word before you begin your story," said Willis, who was not entirely satisfied with Roy's friendly speech and manner, believing, as he did, that the boy might have some sinister object in view. He was afraid to trust anybody, knowing full well that he could not be trusted himself.
"As many words as you please," replied Roy, resuming his seat and placing his injured arm in a comfortable position on the table at his side. "I told the clerk when I first came back that I wouldn't be interviewed; but I know he has sent three reporters after me. All they learned didn't do them much good. You see I don't want my name to appear in the papers, for my folks would be sure to see it; then good-by to all my fine plans for the summer. Of course you'll not say a word."
"Not I," replied Willis. "I don't want everybody to know what fools Babcock and I made of ourselves. By the way, have you seen Bab this morning?"
Roy said he hadn't.