Already there was a little color in his pale cheeks, and an eagerness for his meals. He could endure more fatigue, and he suffered less pain. Indeed, Dr. Smith, who lived half a mile off, had promised to send his son, a lad of twelve, down to see Phil in his stead. "For," said he, "Graham does not know one bone from another, and will soon help Phil to forget all about his, or whether they ache or not." And so Graham Smith, a ruddy-cheeked fellow, full of life and spirit, came to see Phil. It was a warm June day when they first saw each other. Phil was sketching, and Lisa was sitting beside him sewing. Joe was Phil's model, standing patiently by the hour to be made into studies of heads, arms, trunk, or the whole man. Suddenly there was a loud bark of welcome from Nep, the Newfoundland dog--who greeted tramps with growls--and Graham Smith came up the garden path, followed by Nep, leaping frantically upon and about him. He nodded in a brusque way to Lisa and Phil, and without a word bent down over the sketch, gave a long, low whistle, and said, "Isn't that bully?" "If I knew what bully meant, I could answer you, perhaps," replied Phil, gazing up with admiration at the brown and red cheeks, the clear blue eyes, and the tough, hardy-looking frame of his new acquaintance. "I'm not sure I can tell you; only you can beat all the boys I know at this sort of work," said Graham. "Where did you learn how to do it?" "Oh, I have not learned yet; I am only just beginning." "Haven't you had any lessons?" "No; it comes naturally to me to draw. I wish I could do it better, that's all," said Phil, with a little sigh. "I wouldn't want to do any better than that," said Graham. "Oh yes, you would," replied Phil, very much pleased, however, with such heartfelt admiration of his drawing. Just then Nep made another leap upon Graham, and the two, after a friendly tussle, had a race down to the lake, where Graham tossed a stick, and sent the dog after it. "That is something _I_ cannot do," said Phil, as the boy came up to him again; "and yet you do it as easily as I draw." "What--shy that stick off on the water? Then you don't play ball?" "I don't even walk," said Phil. Graham seemed both astonished and sorry, so he turned it off with, "But you are going to, you know, when you get well--and you can do more than any of us now. Let's go out on the water. May we?" he asked, turning to Lisa. "Oh yes," said Lisa; and Joe was glad to get the _Flyaway_ ready for a start. Phil was placed in the stern, where Graham promised to show him how to steer. Phil was an apt scholar, and delighted to be of use. Joe addressed Graham as "Captain," and complimented him on the fine feathering of his oar. The lad was a good oarsman, and made the boat respond to her name. "Where shall we go, mate?" asked Graham of Phil. "The Captain must give orders," was Phil's reply. "Have you been down to Point of Rocks?" asked Graham, directing Phil's eyes to a distant promontory.