CHAPTER XVII.
DAB HAS A WAKING DREAM, AND HAM GETS A SNIFF OF SEA-AIR.
Sleep?
One of the most excellent things in all the world, and very few people get too much of it nowadays.
As for Dabney Kinzer, he had done his sleeping as regularly and faithfully as even his eating, up to the very night after Ham Morris came home to find the old barn afire.

There had been a few, a very few, exceptions.

There were the nights when he was expecting to go duck-shooting before daylight, and waked up at midnight with a strong conviction that he was late about starting.

There were, perhaps, a dozen of "eeling" expeditions, that had kept him out late enough for a full basket and a proper scolding.

There, too, was the night when he had stood so steadily by the tiller of "The Swallow," while she danced, through the dark, across the rough billows of the Atlantic.
But, on the whole, Dab Kinzer had been a good sleeper all his life till then.