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.”