CHAPTER XX.
THE RANSACKING OF THE BAGGAGE.
"For gracious sake!"
Those were the words which left my lips as I gazed around at what looked to me to be a total wreckage of our outfits. Then as in a dream I picked up one of my undergarments and started to fold it up, at the same time noticing the heavy mark of a dirty shoe print upon it.
Inside of half a minute I was scuttling for the upper deck and to where I had left Dan and Oliver.
"Fellows, come downstairs, quick!"
"What's up, Mark?"
"Come down and see," I returned, and led the way with both at my heels.
"What's this, a cyclone?" burst from Oliver. He caught up his fine alligator-skin bag. "Ripped open with a knife," he added, as he turned up the cut.
"And mine is cut, too," came from Dan.
"Mine has been broken open—the frame was too tough for the knife," I added. "And every article hauled out and scattered on the floor. What does it mean?"
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