exactly what was best to be done under such
circumstances, it was not long before I had brought him back to
consciousness.

In appearance he was a handsome young fellow, well set up, and possibly
nineteen or twenty years of age. When I had given him a stiff nobbler of
brandy to stop the chattering of his teeth, I asked him how he came to
be so far from shore.

"I am considered a very good swimmer," he replied, "and often come out
as far as this, but to-day I think I must have got into a strong outward
current, and certainly but for your providential assistance I should
never have reached home alive."

"You have had a very narrow escape," I answered, "but thank goodness
you're none the worse for it. Now, what's the best thing to be done?
Turn back, I suppose, and set you ashore."

"But what a lot of trouble I'm putting you to."

"Nonsense! I've nothing to do, and I count myself very fortunate in
having been able to render you this small assistance. The breeze is
freshening, and it won't take us any time to get back. Where do you
live?"

"To the left there! That house standing back upon the cliff. I don't
know how to express my gratitude."

"Just keep that till I ask you for it; and now, as we've got a twenty
minutes' sail before us, the best thing for you to do would be to slip
into a spare suit of my things. They'll keep you warm, and you can
return them to my hotel when you get ashore."

I sang out to the boy to come aft and take the tiller, while I escorted
my guest below into the little box of a cabin, and gave him a rig out.
Considering I am six feet two, and he was only five feet eight, the
things were a trifle large for him; but when he was dressed I couldn't
help thinking what a handsome, well-built, aristocratic-looking young
fellow he was. The work of fitting him out accomplished, we returned to
the deck. The breeze was freshening, and the little hooker was ploughing
her way through it, nose down, as if she knew that under the
circumstances her best was expected of her.

"Are you a stranger in Bournemouth?" my companion asked, as I took the
tiller again.

"Almost," I answered. "I've only been in England three weeks. I'm home
from Australia."

"Australia! Really! Oh, I should so much like to go out there."

His voice was very soft and low, more like a girl's than a boy's, and I
noticed that he had none of the mannerisms of a man--at least, not of
one who has seen much of the world.

"Yes, Aust