you think that I am mad?"

"I think you have something on your mind," I answered, "which is
exciting you and doing you a good deal of harm."

"Right there, lad!" he cried, his eyes sparkling from the effects
of the brandy. "Plenty on my mind--plenty! But I can work out the
latitude and the longitude, and I can handle my sextant and manage
my logarithms. You couldn't prove me mad in a court of law, could
you, now?" It was curious to hear the man lying back and coolly
arguing out the question of his own sanity.

"Perhaps not," I said; "but still I think you would be wise to get
home as soon as you can, and settle down to a quiet life for a
while."

"Get home, eh?" he muttered, with a sneer upon his face. "One word
for me and two for yourself, lad. Settle down with Flora--pretty
little Flora. Are bad dreams signs of madness?"

"Sometimes," I answered.

"What else? What would be the first symptoms?"

"Pains in the head, noises in the ears flashes before the eyes,
delusions"----

"Ah! what about them?" he interrupted. "What would you call a
delusion?"