"Don't smoke, Bruce!" groaned Rattleton, as the steamer gave an unusually heavy roll. "I'm sick enough now. That will make me worse."
"Oh, we'll open the port."
"Open the port!" laughed Frank. "And we just told Bloodgood we did not drink."
"Port-hole, not port wine," said the big fellow, with a yawn. "We'll let in some fresh air."
"We can't let in anything fresher than just went out," declared the Virginian, as he flung open the round window that served to admit light and air.
"There's something mighty queer about that fellow," said Frank. "Did you notice the diamonds he was wearing, fellows?"
"Yes," said Bruce, beginning to puff away at his new briarwood. "Regular eye-hitters they were."
"Who knows they were genuine?" asked Jack.
"Nobody here," admitted Frank. "It is impossible to distinguish some fake stones from real diamonds, unless you examine them closely. But, somehow, I have a fancy that those were genuine diamonds."
"What makes you think so?"