"h.e.l.lo!" cried Browning, who had been lazily looking over some late New York papers.

The tone and the change in his manner told that he had come on a startling piece of news.

"What is it?" Diamond asked.

"Maybe only the same name!" said Browning, and then read this paragraph from the telegraphic columns:

"A young Irishman named Barney Mulloy was attacked and killed by hoboes near Sea Cove, on the coast not far from Sandy Hook, yesterday morning. The object of the tramps was doubtless robbery, as Mulloy is known to have had a considerable sum of money on his person."

Browning looked up questioningly.

"Likely another fellow, though!" he said.

"By Jove! I'm afraid not!" exclaimed Frank, who had hastily taken the paper from Bruce, and was staring in consternation at the fateful item.

"There may be a hundred Barney Mulloys!" said Rattleton.

Frank shook his head.

"I had a letter from him a few days ago, and he was then stopping at Sea Cove. He was making money, too!"

Merriwell felt stunned. Barney Mulloy had been one of his dearest friends, faithful and honest, kind-hearted and true, jolly and hopeful.

Through all of his hilarious experiences at Fardale, Frank had not a stancher adherent. And now Barney was dead, slain by a lot of miserable tramps! Tears of honest grief and indignation came into Frank's eyes.

"Barney Mulloy dead?" exclaimed Inza, coming up at that moment and hearing the news.

"What?" cried Elsie.

"Report in the _Herald_," Frank answered. "Killed yesterday by hoboes, somewhere below Sandy Hook."

Bad news spreads as if by magic. In a little while the other members of the party, having read the story for themselves or heard of it from others, gathered round Merriwell.

"Well, he was an honest boy," said Hodge, a noticeable tremor in his voice.

"A better-hearted lad never lived!" Merriwell a.s.serted.

Frank's mind went back to Fardale, and, grieved as he was, he could again hear the yells of Barney Mulloy and Hans Dunnerwust, when they crawled into bed with the lobsters, which they thought were centipedes.

It had been one of the funniest incidents of the Fardale days, for both thought they were poisoned by the bites of the creatures, and that they would surely die. The whole thing had been a practical joke, in which Frank had played a prominent part. And now Barney, the mischievous, the loyal, the reckless, was dead!

"I can hardly believe it!" Merry declared. "It doesn't seem possible.

But there is one thing! I shall spend some money in having those hoboes hunted down and punished for their crime."

"I wish I could have happened along there about the time they jumped on him!" growled Hodge, and the light in his dark face showed that he would have done his best to make it hot for the hoboes if he could have put his hands on them. "Barney had the right kind of stuff in him."

This depressing bit of news took all the merriment and life out of the little party. And, as the steamer wallowed on through the increasing fog, the world seemed suddenly to have become wrapped in gloom.

"Wish we'd stayed in New Haven!" grunted Browning. "I'll have to smoke faster to keep warm, or go below."

"And I wish we were in New York," said Bink. "There is something there to warm up the blood."

Danny looked at him.

"Drinks? Likely the captain has a private bottle tucked away somewhere that he will give you a nip out of."

"Life, I mean. Pulsing streets, swarms of people, theaters, hand-organs----"

"Oh, yes, a monkey is usually lost away from a hand-organ!"

"I suppose that is why you always seem so lonesome! When Merry is sad, we all are--grumpy! New York would help to lift us out of the dumps."

CHAPTER XXII.

ADRIFT IN THE ATLANTIC.

"So thick you might cut it with a knife!"

Captain Darien, who had walked forward and joined the group of Merriwell's friends, looked off into the wall of gloom as he said this.

The _Merry Seas_ was mournfully blowing her whistle, and others were continually heard. The steamer was nearing New York harbor.

"Will you try to run in, captain?" Frank asked.

"Oh I think we can make it. I don't like to anchor out here all night. I have a pretty good idea of just where we are."

"The fog may lift before night."

The captain looked at his watch, and saw that it indicated nearly three o'clock.

"I'm afraid not. And likely it will be no better in the morning. I shall try to go in."

A fog-siren somewhere on the invisible sh.o.r.e was sending out its unearthly blasts. Then a whistle seemed to cut the gloom right ahead, and a big black shape loomed through the murk. The _Merry Seas_ sounded her warning, and the helm was jammed hard a-starboard. Another shriek came from the phantom that had seemed to rise right out of the sea. With that shriek, she also swung off.

"I thought we were in for a collision!" said Frank, breathing more freely. "It will be a squeak as it is."

Elsie had nervously clutched him by the arm. All were moving back from the dangerous vicinity toward the other rail.

"A tug!" said Bart, who was standing near Merriwell.

The tug, which was a large one, seemed now fairly on top of them. In size, it was as large or larger than the _Merry Seas_. A collision of the two vessels would be a serious thing.

"We're going to strike, or sc.r.a.pe!" Frank warned, taking Inza and Elsie each by an arm. "Brace for it!"

Orders were being given, and the whistles were hoa.r.s.ely blowing. Both vessels were still falling off. Some one on the tug bellowed frantically through a big trumpet.

"What was that?" Inza asked.