"Maybe it's a rat."
"Whoever heard of a rat in a sleeping-car?" snorted Phil.
"Perhaps you were dreaming. I didn't hear anything," went on Dave.
"No, I wasn't dreaming—I heard it as plain as day."
"Better go to bed and forget it, Phil," and then Dave lay down again. The shipowner's son grumbled a little under his breath, then turned off his electric light, and sank on his pillow once more.
Dave remained quiet for several minutes and then sat bolt upright and gave a low cry. There was no mistake about it, something had mgved over his feet and given him a slight nip in the toe.
"Phil!" he called, softly. "Did you do that? Come, no fooling now. This is no place for jokes."
"Do what?"
"Pinch me in the toe."
"I haven't touched your toe. How can I from the lower berth?"
"Well, something nipped me."
"Maybe it's you who are dreaming this trip, Dave," returned the shipowner's son, with pardonable sarcasm.
Dave did not reply, for just then he felt some-
