unk. It
was a long moment before he could identify that blank expanse. Then he
discovered that he was lying in a bunk, and there was something the
matter with his couch, it bounced about, and his feet were, as often as
not, higher than his head.

He was in a room. Just before his eyes was a little round window in
the wall, and through it filtered a feeble daylight when his feet were
ascendant, and when his head was uppermost he glimpsed racing, green
water on the other side of the thick glass circle. It was strangely
unaccountable.

His eyes roved. The mists were clearing somewhat from his mind. He
was in a room, yes, the queerest little cubby-hole he had ever seen.
There was a lamp in a rack against the wall, and the lamp remained
stationary and upright while the wall behind it reeled drunkenly.

Clothes dangled from pegs as if inhabited by dancing ghosts.
Somewhere, crockery rattled. There was an alarming creaking, as if
great timbers were grinding together. And there was, over all, a
shrill, menacing, unceasing howl--the same dread sounds that had made
part of his dream.

Also persisted the singing voice that had drawn him safely out of his
marish visions. His eyes, continuing their sweep, passed by a tiny
desk, a rack of books, a swinging wash-basin, and encountered the
source of that musical chant. The hunchback, Little Billy, was seated
crosslegged upon the floor, sewing on some piece of wearing apparel,
and, as he deftly plied the needle, he crooned his ditty in the pure
tenor that had before charmed Martin.

"A-roving, a-roving,
Since roving's been my ru-u-in----"

So far he got, when he looked up and saw Martin's eyes fixed upon him.
He promptly threw his work aside, leaped to his feet and bent over the
bunk. His impish, friendly face was wreathed in a cordial smile.

"Why, hello, old scout! Had your sleep out? How do you feel?" was his
cheerful greeting.

Martin had been fully occupied in receiving impressions during the few
moments he had been awake, and until Little Billy spoke, he had not
considered himself. But at the other's words, he suddenly discovered
that something was the matter with his body. He was sick. His head
hurt, and something terrible was happening to his inner man--he was
ascending to great heights only to drop swiftly to great depths. It
was his stomach, his stomach was performing a rapid and continuous
journey between his throat and the soles of his feet.