another heavy roll sent them sliding into the scuppers.

"Come, you fellows, you'd better get up, and turn in aft," said Frank.

"Oh, leave me alone," groaned Billy.

"I'm going to die, I think," moaned Harry.

At this moment the new steward, a raw boy from Vermont, who had been
at sea for several years, came up to where the two boys were
suffering.

"Breakfast's ready," he announced, "there's some nice fat bacon and
fried eggs and jam and----"

It was too much. With what strength they had left Billy and Harry
tumbled to their feet and aimed simultaneous blows at him.

It was a final effort and as the Southern Cross plunged onward toward
her mysterious goal she carried with her two of the most sea-sick boys
ever recorded on a ship's manifest.




CHAPTER IV.

A MESSAGE FROM THE AIR.