ase here," agreed Benson, stifling a yawn that came as though in
answer to Hal's.

"I won't keep you long, gentlemen, if I am boring you," agreed their
host, amiably. "Now, I'll go below first and light up. So! Now, come
down and take a look. Do you find many yacht cabins more comfortable
than this one?"

It was, indeed, a cozy place. Up forward stood a miniature sideboard,
complete in every respect with glass and silver. In the center of the
cabin was a folding table. There were locker seats and inviting
looking cushions. The trim was largely of mahogany. On either side
was a broad, comfortable-looking berth.

"Just get into that berth and try it, Mr. Hastings," urged the bearded
one.

"I--I'm afraid to," confessed Hal, stifling another yawn.

"Afraid?"

"Very sure thing!"

"Why?"

"I'm--hah-ho-hum!" yawned Hal Hastings. "I'm afraid I'd--yow!--abuse
your hospitality by going to sleep."

Jack Benson leaned against the edge of the opposite berth, feeling
unaccountably drowsy.

"Oh, nonsense," laughed Curtis. "Just pile into that berth for a moment,
Hastings, and see what a soft, restful place it is. I'll agree to pull
you out, if necessary."

Not realizing much, in his approaching stupor, Hal Hastings allowed
himself to be coaxed to stretch himself at full length in the downy
berth.

Almost immediately he closed his eyes, drifting off into stupor.

"Why, your friend _is_ drowsy, isn't he?" laughed the bearded one,
turning to the submarine skipper.

Jack Benson's own eyelids were suspiciously close together.

"Why--what--ails you?"

Curtis spoke in a low, droning, far-away voice that caused Jack Benson's
upper eyelids to sink. Curtis stood watching him, in malicious glee,
for some moments. Then, at last, he took hold of the young skipper.

"Come, old fellow," coaxed the bearded one, "you'll do best to join your
friend in a good nap. Get up in the berth."

"Lemme alone," protested the boy, thickly, feeling that he was being
lifted. Jack struggled, partly rousing himself.

"Come, get up into the berth. You'll be more comfortable there."

"Lemme alone. What are you trying to do?" demanded Jack, swinging
an arm.

Curtis dodged the light blow, then gripped Jack Benson resolutely.
"Now, see here, young man," hissed the bearded one, "I'm not going
to have any more nonsense out of you. Up into the berth you go!
Do you want me to hit you?"

Another man thrust his head down the cabi