you understand plain United States language? What made you? Or WHO made
you? Who told you to ask me that question?"

He pounded the bench with his fist. The pair stared at each other for a
moment; then Brown leaned back and began to whistle. Seth seized him by
the shoulders.

"Quit that foolishness, d'you hear?" he snarled. "Quit it, and answer
me!"

The answer was prefaced by a pitying shake of the head.

"It's the mosquitoes," observed the young man, musingly. "They get
through and puncture the brain after a time, I presume. I'm not
surprised exactly, but," with a sigh, "I'm very sorry."

"What are you talkin' about," demanded Atkins. "Be you crazy?"

"No-o. I'M not."

"YOU'RE not! Do you mean that I am?"

"Well," slowly, "I'm not an expert in such cases, but when a perfectly
simple, commonplace question sets a chap to pounding and screaming and
offering violence, then--well, it's either insanity or an attempt at
insult, one or the other. I've given you the benefit of the doubt."

He scratched a match on his heel and relit his pipe. The lightkeeper
still stared, suspicious and puzzled. Then he drew a long breath.