And he began to “dream.” Mrs. Grier, fearful of the outcome, would have distracted his attention, but Dr. Macpherson, who had never seen the boy in the actual state of exaltation, besought her not to check him. The day passed without incident. After dinner they were on deck, enjoying the glorious tropical moon, “that orbèd maiden, with white fire laden,” which some globe-trotting impressionist has described as yellow! Macpherson, thinking Karl’s visionary mood had passed without result, pointed out such planets as were ascendant, and added the information that several hundreds of smaller bodies were invisible, save to astronomers. “I can see a good many,” said Karl, instantly. “Nonsense. Those are stars,” smiled the doctor. “No. I mean round black things, like balloons. Some of them are shiny on one side.” “By gad!” muttered the man under his breath. He gazed up at the glittering firmament. “That big fellow there is Jupiter,” he said. “Can you discover anything peculiar about him?” “Yes,” said Karl, instantly. “There are three little dots quite near. They look like pins stuck in a blue cloth.” “Karl, did anybody ever tell you that Jupiter had three moons?” “I never heard of Jupiter before, but I have often seen the three moons,” was the amazing answer. “That is true,” interposed Mrs. Grier. “We kept such problems from his ken.” What Dr. Macpherson might have said will never be known. They were standing on the port side, well forward. On a clear space aft some light-hearted people were waltzing. In utter disobedience of the ship’s rules, a young Armenian, scion of a great commercial house in London and Calcutta, was sitting on the rail. Some one cannoned against him and he fell, yelling, into the sea. Instantly there was a hubbub of screams and rushing feet. A cool-headed man threw a life-buoy after the unfortunate youth, and others shouted to the officer of the watch. Very speedily the steamer’s way was stopped and the engines reversed. The ship’s framework throbbed under the agony of the giant machines thus rudely checked in their work. British quartermasters and lithe Lascars worked like fiends to clear a boat’s hamper and swing out the davits. But it was a hopeless task. Great steamers slip through a mile of water with such rapidity, and the course was so interfered with by reversing the propellers, that nothing short of a miracle would reveal the whereabouts of the hapless Armenian, even if he still floated and retained consciousness. “Mrs. Grier--” began Macpherson. “I know what you would say,” she cried bravely. “Yes, let Karl help, and let me try to thank God he has the power.”