“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.”
Not realizing much, in his approaching stupor, Hal Hastings allowed himself to be [pg 177] coaxed to stretch himself at full length in the downy berth.
Almost immediately he closed his eyes, drifting off into stupor.
“Why, your friend is drowsy, isn't he?” laughed the bearded one, turning to the submarine skipper.
Jack Benson's own eyelids were suspiciously close together.