“Where’d you get that?” laughed Nelson. “The fellow that showed us around the fish shop told it to us. It’s the way they put up their codfish. Isn’t it great? Want us to say it again?” “Yes, and say it slow.” For the next ten minutes “The Dirge of the Salt Codfish” had things its own way, Nelson and Bob insisting on learning it by heart. When they could all four say it in unison, standing in a row like a quartet of idiots, they were satisfied. Then the berths were made up and, after Dan had satisfied himself which was the strongest one and therefore best suited to Tom, they undressed and put out the lights. Of course they didn’t go to sleep very soon; things were still too novel for that. They talked and laughed, quieted down and woke up again, recited “The Dirge of the Salt Codfish,” and—well, finally went to sleep. Some time later—no one ever knew just when, since the clock refused to ring out any information—Bob and Dan were awakened by the sound of some one blundering around the stateroom. “Who—who’s that?” asked Dan in startled tones, sitting up in his berth with a jerk. “It’s me, you idiot!” growled a voice. “Who’s ‘me’?” questioned Dan sharply. “Nelson. We forgot to set the riding light, and I’ve bumped into everything here. I’d like to know where that door’s got to!” “Well, keep off of me,” groaned Bob. “The door’s behind you, of course. Can’t you find a match?” “No, I can’t. If I could I’d light it, you silly fool!” “There are some in the engine room, on top of the ice box,” laughed Dan. Then they heard the door swing back and heard Nelson’s bare feet go scraping over the cold oilcloth and his teeth chattering. Presumably the riding light was fixed as the law demands, but neither Dan nor Bob could have sworn to it. They turned over in their berths, and by the time Nelson was picking his way along the side of the launch by the light of the flickering lantern they were sound asleep again. CHAPTER V—WHEREIN TOM BUYS LOBSTERS AND DAN DISAPPROVES