"Afraid! Why, you did, you beggar, and then packed it all on to my shoulders. Hullo, here comes Mann--man--handy man--Daniel Mann--Dan Mann. What a rum name! Hasn't been very handy yet, though." "I say, don't! You will have him hear what you say." "I don't care. Let him! I wasn't saying any harm about him, poor chap. He's coming to us--wants to say something, I suppose." The conversation was taking place just outside the so-called hotel, though the boys had dubbed it the tin tabernacle--a rough, hastily-built house that had been fitted up by an enterprising trader, where the party found temporary accommodation. "Well, Daniel? Feel better?" "Dan, please, sir. My mates never put any `yel' at the end of my name." "That isn't the end," said Mark sharply. "That's the middle. Well, do you feel better?" "Feel better, sir?" said the man, whose miserably pallid face was overspread for the moment by a warm glow, while the tears of gratitude stood in his eyes. "Why, every morning since we came up I have seemed to be coming to life again." "Well, don't cry about it," said Mark shortly. "Oh, that's nothing, sir," said the man, using the back of both fists to brush away the signs of his emotion. "That's only being so weak, sir. Don't you take any notice of that. You see, I have been going backwards and getting quite like a kid again. And oh, gentlemen, it was a lucky day for me when I run against you two." "Stop!" cried Mark angrily. "This is the third time you have begun talking to us like this, and we won't stand it; will we, Dean?" "No, that we won't," cried his cousin. "Here, Daniel--Dan, I mean--" "Thank you, sir. That's better." "You wait a bit. I had not finished," continued Mark. "If ever you say another word to us, whether we are together or whether we are alone, about being grateful, and that sort of thing, I shall say you are a canting humbug--at least, my cousin will; I shouldn't like to be so harsh." Dean dug his elbow into his cousin's ribs at this. "And we don't want to think that of you," continued Mark. "I say, though, you do look a lot better." "I am, sir," said the man, smiling. "And now we have got up here, sir, I want you to ask Sir James and the doctor to set me to work." "Why, you are too weak yet." "Weak, sir? Not so weak as that. 'Sides, doing a bit of hauling or something of that kind will help to get me in sailing trim once more. Why, arter all these long weeks lying by and feeling that I should never be a man again--why, the very sound of doing something sets one longing." "Well, you go on getting better." "Better, sir! I am better," cried the man sharply. "I know I don't look thin and like a fellow on the sick list, but the time I overhauled you down there at the port I felt like a walking shadder." "Ah, that's the doctor's physic," said Dean.