pen when we get out where it's real rough?" Tom wanted to know.
"They'll sure be in for it," agreed Ned, and a glance around the dining saloon showed that those two vacant chairs were the only ones.
Somehow Tom felt a vague sense of uneasiness—as if something was about to happen. In a way he connected it with the suspicion that the Fogers were aboard, and with his subsequent discovery that their names were not on the passenger list. Then, with another thought in mind, he looked about to see if he could pick out the man and youth who, on coming up the gang plank, had been taken by both Tom and Ned to be their enemies. No one looking like either was to be seen, and Tom's mind at once went back to the vacant seats at the table.
"By Jove, Ned!" he exclaimed. "I believe I have it!"
"Have what—a fit of seasickness?"
"No, but those empty seats—the persons we saw you know—they belong there and they're afraid to come out and be seen."
"Why should they be—if they're not the Fogers. I guess you've got another think coming."
"Well, I'm sure there's something mysterious about those two—the way they hid their faces as
