I bathed his wound, I say, and then we ate a very good meal, and Billy gave my dog a double share of food, to comfort him, he said, for the loss of his companion. I asked him if double meals would comfort him, supposing I was killed, merely to tease him; but his face became so piteous when he said, "Don't say such things, Master, for I can't a-bear it," I wished I had never spoken the words. I had never told Billy how the thought that he might die came to me sometimes, and what intolerable anguish it caused me, and I did not know that he ever had the like thought; but he confided to me a long while after that sometimes as he lay awake at night the question would repeat itself in his mind: "What if Master should die?" and it gave him such a dreadful feeling of loneliness that he would put out his hand to touch me lying near him, to make sure that my flesh was still warm with the blood of life. When he told me this I remembered having once felt his hand upon mine, and how it tingled, and when I spoke he tightened his grasp and said, "Good night, old king," and I knew by his tone that he had a great affection for me; but I never supposed he was troubled in mind, or I might have shown him, perhaps, more plainly how great was my affection for him. However, to return to our vessel. We ate a meal, and considered what we should do: whether continue our voyage in another direction, or return at once to Palm Tree Island. Billy thought we had better go a-cruising, "For," said he, "we don't know but what these savages will spy on us, and see where we go to if we go home at once, and then they may come after us some day, and we shall have a deal of trouble." "But they may spy on us even if we don't go home at once," I said, "and never leave us until they find out where we came from." "Not they," says he; "they won't have the patience." [Sidenote: We return Home]