"And how can you build the air ship without Wetherbee & Hart?" I inquired. "I am not quite prepared to answer your question. But I have overcome difficulties before, and I shall overcome this one. Don’t fret, Gurt! the air ship will be built." His manner was confident, and showed such indifference to the gravity of our situation, that I looked at him in amazement. There was nothing more to say, and we wandered apart again. Once more I began an exhaustive study of my surroundings—the river—the lights—the boat itself, and finally of my fellow-passengers. Thus occupied I allowed several landings to pass unheeded, when suddenly I became interested in a low but animated conversation between two men who were opposite me, the one standing, the other sitting. It was nearly dark in that part of the deck where we were, but presently the man who was sitting, shifted his position slightly to make room for the other, when they both came in range of a dimly burning lantern, and I was surprised to see that one of the men was my brother. The stranger was a rough, dirty looking sailor, and the pair, as I say, were deeply absorbed in conversation, in which they had evidently been engaged for some time. "Yes, stranger," said the sailor, "you may believe me or not as you please, but I have proof enough of what I tell you; and three times I’ve been locked up with lunatics for stickin’ to the truth, and not lyin’." "And you say you can prove this?" inquired my brother in a low tone. "Ay, and _will do it_!" "It is too marvelous. You astound me! I cannot comprehend it!" said Torrence in a voice that was scarcely audible, and which I observed was purposely subdued. "And indeed you may well be all o’ that, an’ more too. I was good crazy for a spell when I first found it out, leastways I was nigh it, but I don’t talk about it no more since they locked me up, but when I heerd you fellers a gassin’ about a air ship, I ’lowed you was the kind, if ever there was any, as it wouldn’t hurt to tell. For my part, it don’t matter—I can’t live long no way—and I hate to have _that secret_ die with me. I’m a stoppin’ down the river on the Kangaroo, she’s a boat as is fitted up as a ’orspital for crippled seamen and the like. I’m tullable comfortable thar, and doubt as I’ll ever anchor to any other craft for a home this side o’ Davy Jones’." "But surely you’ll let me see you again," said Torrence, as the man made a move to leave the boat at the landing we were approaching. "Course’n I will. I won’t forgit ye," tapping his breast as if referring to a memorandum which I supposed Torrence had given him. "And I’ll keep my word, too, and prove every breath I’ve done breathed to you to-night. Ta-ta!" The man left the boat hurriedly, and the next landing was our own. *III.*