“I guess we must be in a pretty watery part of the ocean,” remarked Abe grimly.
“Oh, we’ll fetch up somewhere, sooner or later,” declared his mate.
“Where am I going to sleep to-night, Tom?” asked Jackie, as it began to get dusk, the sun sinking down behind the waves in a glory of gold that promised a fair day on the morrow.
“With me, of course, Jackie,” answered our hero. “We’ll sleep under the wooden tent.”
“In the dark?”
“Oh, yes, in the dark.”
“But I don’t like the dark.”
“It’s better than the light, Jackie dear. The mosquitoes can’t find you to bite you in the dark.”
“All right. I don’t like the dark, and I don’t like the miskeeters, either. Will you hold my hand?”