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For a moment Frank found his tongue and replied, “I don’t know what you mean. Is this our tea?”

What a superb joke. How the two did laugh and choke, and then when they found their breath again, the senior said scornfully, “Looky here, my soft kiddy, the sooner you wake up the better for you. This is your tea, as you call it, and as Bill and me are pretty sharp set, you and the other young nobleman had better produce your dinner service and fall to, or I’m hanged if you’ll get any at all.”

At this point there was a diversion caused by the other new-comer, Harry, bursting into hysterical tears. For a moment the two hardened ones suspended their eating and gazed open-mouthed at him, remembering perhaps their own experiences only a year ago, then with rude chaff and empty threats they resumed their interrupted supper. But it did Frank good. He couldn’t comfort the weaker boy, but he set his teeth and determined that he wouldn’t be laughed at anyhow.

So he began to hunt up his mess traps, plate, pot, pannikin, knife, fork, and spoon, and at last he found them, but with all his will power aroused he couldn’t use them. He had no desire for food. So he just put them in his bunk and sat down again, wondering.