"Oh, we've just got to catch Merwell and Jasniff, Uncle Dunston!"
"Yes, but they may not be guilty. You'll have to go slow about accusing them."
"Well, I want to catch them and question them anyway. I can have them detained on the old charge, you know—that is, if they try to get away from me."
Dave and Phil slept on one side of the car, with Dunston Porter and Roger on the other. As the steam heat was still turned on, it was uncomfortably warm, and as a consequence Dave was rather restless. He tumbled and tossed in his berth, which was the upper one, and wished that the night were over and that they were in Jacksonville.
"Oh, pshaw! I really must get some sleep!" he told himself. "If I don't, I'll be as sleepy as an owl to-morrow and not fit to hunt up those rascals. Yes, I must go to sleep," and he did what he could to settle himself.
He had just closed his eyes when a peculiar noise below him made him start up. Phil was thrashing around wildly.
"What's the matter, Phil?" he asked, in a low tone.
"Something is in my berth, some animal, or something!" answered the shipowner's son. "I can't go to sleep for it. Every time I lie down it begins to move."
