CHAPTER FOUR. ANOTHER BOY. It was either sunrise or sunset, for the cabin was full of a rich warm glow, and Fitz lay upon his back listening to a peculiar sound which sounded to him like _fuzz, whuzz, thrum_. He did not attempt to turn his head for some moments, though he wanted to know what made those sounds, for during some little time he felt too lazy to stir, and at last he turned his head gently and remembered the eyes that had looked at him once, and recalled the face now bent down over something before him from which came those peculiar sounds. Fitz felt interested, and watched the busy ringers, the passing and re-passing needle, and the manipulation of a mesh, for some time before he spoke. "How quick and clever he is!" he thought, and then almost unconsciously a word slipped out. "Netting?" he said. Needle, string and mesh were thrown down, and Fitz's fellow-occupier of the cabin started up and came to his side, to bend over and lay a brown cool hand upon his forehead. "Feel better?" he said. "Better?" said Fitz peevishly. "Yes, of course." "Why--Here, stop a moment. Who are you?" "No doubt about it," was the reply. "That's the first time you have talked sensibly." "You be hanged!" said Fitz sharply. But as he spoke it did not seem like his own voice, but as if somebody else had spoken in a weak, piping tone. He did not trouble himself about that, though, for his mind was beginning to be an inquiring one. "Why don't you answer?" he said. "Who are you? What's your name?" "Poole Reed." "Oh! Then how came you in my cabin?" "Well," said the lad, with a pleasant laugh, which made his rather plain face light up in the warm sunset glow and look almost handsome; not that that was wonderful, for a healthy, good-tempered boy's face, no matter what his features, always has a pleasant look,--"I think I might say what are you doing in my cabin?" "Eh?" cried Fitz, looking puzzled. "How came I--your cabin--your cabin? Is it your cabin?" The lad nodded. "I don't know," said Fitz. "How did I come here?" "But it is my cabin--rather." "Yes, yes; but how did I come here?" "Why, in the boat." "In a boat?" said Fitz thoughtfully--"in a boat? I came in a boat? Yes, I suppose so, because we are at sea. But somehow I don't know how it is. I can't recollect. But I say, hasn't it turned _very_ warm?" "Yes. Getting warmer every day." "But my head--I don't understand." "Don't you? Well, never mind. How do you feel?" "Oh, quite well, thank you. But I want to know why I am here--in your cabin." "Oh, you will know soon enough. Don't worry about it now till you get strong again." "Till I get strong again? There, now you are beginning to puzzle me once more. I am strong enough now, and--No, I am not," added the lad, rather pitifully, as he raised one hand and let it fall back. "That arm feels half numbed as if it had been hurt, and," he added, rather excitedly, "you asked me how I was. Have I been ill?"