"Well, if this isn't the queerest yet," he murmured, and pinched himself, to make certain that he was not dreaming. He walked to one end of the saloon and then to the other, and then started for the stairs leading out on deck.
At that moment there came an extra-heavy gust of wind and the steamer rocked violently. Dave was thrown on his side and fell headlong over the end of a sofa. As he went down he heard several cries, one in a voice that sounded familiar to him.
"That must have been Roger," he told himself. "Where can he be?" And then he called out loudly: "Roger! Roger Morr! Where are you?"
The boat continued to toss and pitch, and now Dave had all he could do to keep his feet. When he reached the entrance to the main deck he was stopped by one of the under officers.
"Too rough to go out there."
"I am looking for my friend," answered Dave, and told of the disappearance of the senator's son.
"Perhaps he's walking in his sleep," suggested the officer.
"That may be it!" cried Dave. "Queer I didn't think of it. He told me he got up once in a great while."
"If he was walking in his sleep the lurching of the boat must have awakened him—if he cried out.
