Lewis was wonderfully apt at learning anything, and Skelton, in his quiet way, showed an excellent knack of teaching. Every day, for a week or more, the two were out in the boat together upon the bright river glowing in the August sunshine. Lewis often wondered if Skelton were not bored as they sailed up and down the river, and then beyond out into the bay, Skelton sitting in the stern, with a book in his hand, reading when he was not showing Lewis how to manage the boat. It puzzled the boy because there was usually such a distance, so much reserve between them. More than once Lewis caught Skelton’s black, expressive eyes fixed on him with a look that was almost fondness, and at such moments the boy’s heart would thrill with a strange emotion. He had often thought that he would ask Skelton some time about his father and mother, and what better opportunity could he have than when sailing together for hours upon the blue water? But he never did it. In spite of Skelton’s interest, and his evident desire to secure Lewis from danger by making him a good sailor, the barrier remained. In a very short while, though, Lewis mastered the whole science of a sailboat, with one exception. Nothing could induce him to take the sail down until a squall was actually upon him, and in consequence of this he got into the water several times unnecessarily. But he was a cool-headed fellow, and a good swimmer besides, so that his various upsets did him no harm. Skelton, on these occasions, would send for him and give him lectures upon his foolhardiness, which Lewis would receive respectfully enough, saying “Yes, sir,” every time Skelton paused. But when the door was closed Skelton would sigh, and smile too, and say to himself, “There is no frightening the fellow.” There was but one boy in the neighbourhood near Lewis’s age. This was Hilary Blair, a handsome, fair-haired, freckle-faced boy, who began the acquaintance with a sturdy contempt for Lewis’s prowess. Hilary was a year older than Lewis, and a heavier and stouter boy. But at the first personal encounter between the two young gentlemen, which was precipitated by a dispute over a game of marbles in the main road, Lewis showed so much science in the manly art, that Hilary was knocked out ignominiously about the fourth round. Hilary displayed excellent good sense in the affair. He got up with a black eye, but an undaunted soul. “Look here,” he said, “you’ve taken lessons of some sort.” “Yes,” responded Lewis, shamefacedly, remembering that he had had lessons of all sorts--boxing, fencing, dancing, riding, everything, in short--while this country gentleman’s son knew nothing of many of these things; “but if you want to, I’ll teach you all I know, and then”--here the fighting instinct in the boy cropped out--“I’ll lick you just as easy as I do now.”