n to resent the
interference,--"there's an officer looking at us. He will do nothing if
you will go along quietly with me, but if you make a scene I'll hand you
over to him."

They found the man's room and he willingly went in and lay down. "Now,"
said Chester to him, "remain below until you're sober. And don't bother
that young lady again--do you hear. _Don't you do it_."

Chester went on deck again, somewhat in wonder at his own conduct. He
was not in the habit of interfering in other people's business, and
never mixed with drunken affairs. But this surely was different. No man
would have refused _that_ appeal for help. Yes; he was sure she had
pleaded with her eyes. Perhaps he ought to go back and receive her
thanks, but he resisted that impulse. He walked to the extreme rear of
the boat and stood looking at the broad white path which the ship was
making in the green sea. He stood gazing for some time, then turned, and
there sitting on a coil of rope was the girl who had been in his mind.
She saw his confusion and smiled at it.

"I--I came to thank you," she said; "but I did not like to disturb your
meditations, so I sat down to rest."

"The sea has used you up quite badly, hasn't it?"

"O no; I was dreadfully ill before I came aboard. This trip is to make
me well, so papa says."

"I hope so." There was a pause, during which Chester found a seat on a
bit of ship furniture. This girl's voice was like an echo from far-away
Utah and Piney Ridge Cottage. And there was something about the shapely
head now framed in wind-blown hair and the face itself that reminded him
of someone else. Just how the resemblance came in he could not tell, but
there it was. Perhaps, after all, it was just the look in her eyes and
the spirit that accompanied her actions and words that moved him.

"Is that man a friend of yours?" she asked.

"You mean that drunken fool? No; I've never met him before."

"That was just a ruse then--that invitation to drink."

"I had to do something, and that came first to me."

"Then you didn't go and drink with him?"

"Why no, of course not. I took him to his berth, and told him to stay
there."

"Do you think he will?"

"Yes; until he sobers up."

"Well, I don't like drunken men."

"Neither do I."

"We're agreed on one thing then, aren't we?"

Chester laughed with her. Elder Malby was pacing the deck, awaiting the
call for breakfast; but Chester did not join him.

"The man bothered me ye