upposed you knew that."

"I never heard of the ship _Columbia_ before, and I never had any idea
of making a sea voyage."

The steward looked surprised.

"I suppose your guardian arranged about that. Didn't he tell you?"

"I have no guardian."

"Well, you'll have to ask Capt. Barnes about that. I know nothing,
except that you are a passenger, and that your fare has been paid."

"My fare paid to San Francisco?" asked Dodger, more and more at sea,
both mentally and physically.

"Yes; we don't take any deadheads on the _Columbia_."

"Can you tell me what time it is?"

"About twelve o'clock. Do you feel hungry?"

"N--not very," returned Dodger, as a ghastly expression came over his
face, and he tumbled back into his berth, looking very pale.

The steward smiled.

"I see how it is," he said; "you are getting initiated."

"What's that?" muttered Dodger, feebly.

"You're going to be seasick. You'll hardly be able to appear at the
dinner table."

"It makes me sick to think of eating," said Dodger, feebly.

As he sank back into his berth, all thoughts of his unexpected
position gave way to an overpowering feeling of seasickness.

He had never been tried in this way before, and he found the sensation
far from agreeable.

"If only the vessel would stop pitching," he groaned. "Oh, how happy I
should be if I were on dry land."

But the vessel wouldn't stop--even for a minute.

The motion, on the other hand, seemed to increase, as was natural, for
they were getting farther and farther from land and were exposed to
the more violent winds that swept the open ocean.

There is something about seasickness that swallows up and draws away
all minor cares and anxieties, and Dodger was too much affected to
consider how or why it was that he so unexpectedly found himself a
passenger to California.

"Lie flat on your back," said the steward. "You will feel better if
you do."

"How long is it going to last?" groaned Dodger, feeling quite
miserable.

"Oh, you'll feel better to-morrow. I'll bring you some porridge
presently. You can get that clown, and it is better to have something
on your stomach."

He was right. The next day Dodger felt considerably better, and
ventured to go upon deck. He looked about him in surprise.

There had been a storm, and the waves were white with foam.

As far as the eye could see there was a tumult and an uproar.

The ship was tossed about like a cockle shell. But the sailors went