'That is because you do not deserve such a friend,' answered the
Spirit, briskly reappearing on the scene. 'A man who flies in the
wilderness to escape--'

'Spirit, are you acquainted with a Biblical personage named David?'
interrupted Waring, executing a flank movement.

The spirit acknowledged the acquaintance, but cautiously, as not
knowing what was coming next.

'Did he or did he not have anything to say about flying to
wildernesses and mountain-tops? Did he or did he not express wishes to
sail thither in person?'

'David had a voluminous way of making remarks,' replied the Spirit,
'and I do not pretend to stand up for them all. But one thing is
certain; whatever he may have wished, in a musical way, regarding
wildernesses and mountain-tops, when it came to the fact he did not
go. And why? Because he--'

'Had no wings,' said Waring, closing the discussion with a mighty
yawn. 'I say, Spirit, take yourself off. Something is coming ashore,
and were it old Nick in person I should be glad to see him and shake
his clawed hand.'

As he spoke out of the fog and into the glare of the fire shot a
phantom skiff, beaching itself straight and swift at his feet, and so
suddenly that he had to withdraw them like a flash to avoid the crunch
of the sharp bows across the sand. 'Always let the other man speak
first,' he thought; 'this boomerang of a boat has a shape in it, I