He seemed to see the _Dolphin_ steaming down the bay, his father,
perhaps, sitting in the saloon with the other grown folks (the younger
ones would be pretty sure to have retired to their state-rooms), and
thinking and speaking of his absent son. Or, it might be, pacing the
deck alone, his heart going up in prayer to God for his first-born--his
"might and the beginning of his strength,"--that he might be kept from
sin and every danger and evil and enabled to prove himself a brave, true
follower of Christ, never ashamed or afraid to show his colors and let
it be known to all with whom he had to do that he was a disciple, a
servant of the dear Lord Jesus.

"Lord, help me; help me to be brave and faithful and true," was the
silent petition that went up from the boy's heart.

"Homesick, bub?" asked a boyish voice, in mocking tones. "I believe most
of the fellows are just at the first, but they get over it after a bit
without much doctoring."

"I'm inclined to think it is not a dangerous kind of ailment," returned
Max, in a pleasant tone, lifting his head and turning toward his
companion with a smile that seemed rather forced. "However, I was
thinking not of home, exactly, but the homefolks who are just at present
aboard my father's yacht and steaming down the bay."

It was only by a great effort he repressed a sigh with the concluding
words.

"That's a handsome yacht and about the largest I ever saw," was the next
remark of his room-mate, a lad--Benjamin Hunt by name--of about the same
age as himself, not particularly handsome but with a good, honest face.