steerin' apparatus," and the tar tapped his fore head.
"Then you must have a trip to the ocean, by all means," said Caspar Potts. He turned to the rich manufacturer. "It might be easily arranged."
"Dill, I want to talk to you about the time you were out in the South Seas," said Dave, who could bear the suspense no longer. "Now, please follow me closely, will you?"
"Will if I can, my hearty." The sailor's forehead began to wrinkle. "You know my memory box has got its cargo badly shifted."
"Don't you remember when you were down there—at Cavasa Island, and elsewhere—how hard times were, and how somebody helped you."
"Seems to me I do."
"Don't you remember traveling around with your bundle and your satchel? You had some money in bankbills and some loose silver, and a work on navigation, and a Bible"
"Yes! yes! I remember the Bible—it was the one my aunt gave me—God bless her! She, Aunt Lizzie—took care o' me when my mother died, an' she told me to read it every day—an' I did, most o' the time."
"Well, you had the Bible and your satchel and your bundle of clothes," went on Dave, impressively. "And at that time you fell in with a man who afterwards gave you his photograph."
