faith in the religion of his fathers. And so, vastly relieved and no
longer afraid, he rowed his skiff alongside the boat, made his painter
fast and stepped aboard.

Standing in the forward part of the boat was a little boy, perhaps three
years of age. He was fair haired and fair skinned and handsome, but as a
result of privations he had suffered he was evidently ill and his cheeks
were flushed with fever.

Abel's great, generous heart went out to the child in boundless
sympathy. He forgot the dead man aft. He forgot even the boat. The
coveted prize of his ambition an hour before, had small importance to
Abel now. His one thought was for this distressed little one that God
had so unexpectedly sent down to him upon the bosom of the sea.

The child ceased crying, and with big blue tear-wet eyes looked with
wonder upon his dusky faced deliverer.

"_Oksunae_" (be strong), said Abel with a reassuring smile, as he
stooped and took the little one's hand into his big rough palm.

The child did not understand the word of greeting, but he did
understand, with the intuition and instinct of little children and dumb
creatures, that Abel was his friend.

Beneath the deck, forward, were blankets, in which the boy had doubtless
been sleeping when Abel first looked into the boat and discovered the
dead man. Beneath the deck Abel also found among other things, a jug
partly filled with tepid water, a tin cup, and a bag containing a few
broken fragments of sea biscuits. He gave the child a sip of the water