“What—who—what shall we do?” he demanded of the first passenger he met, a rather fussy old gentleman who did not like boys.
“Do?” demanded the old gentleman. He adjusted his eyeglasses and stared at Hockley. “Why, young man, what is the matter with you? Have you gone crazy?”
“Ain’t the ship sinking?” gasped Hockley.
“Not that I am aware of.”
“But—er—” The youth gazed around him in amazement. Nobody appeared to be excited, and some folks were even at the piano, playing and singing. Then he caught sight of Darry and the other boys, who were behind a nearby column and laughing heartily.
“Hi! what are you laughing at?” he roared, rushing toward the crowd. “I want to know——”
“Glummy must have been dreaming the ship was going to sink,” came from Mark.
“And he wasn’t going to leave his shoes behind either,” put in Frank, pointing to the pair the bully carried in his hand.
“Nor his collar and tie,” added Sam. “Nothing like being dressed up, even if you’re swimming for your life.”
“I won’t stand this—I’ll fix all of you, see if I don’t!” howled Hockley, shaking his fists at them and dropping half of his wearing apparel in his excitement. “I’ll—I’ll——” And then he suddenly thought of the figure he cut, and the crowd that was beginning to gather, and ran for his stateroom with as much speed as he had used in leaving it.