"Laybold, ahoy!" shouted he, after he had examined the apartment, and mentally confessed his inability to solve the problem. "Laybold! All hands on deck!"

"What is the matter?" cried Laybold, springing up, only half awake.

"I'll be muzzled if I know what the matter is, but I believe that the Norway G.o.d--what's his name?--Odin, came aboard the ship last night, and turned her into a country tavern," replied Scott, going to the window, and looking down into the lane below.

"How came we here?" asked Laybold, rubbing his eyes.

"That's more than I know; but I think we have been transplanted by the spirits."

"The spirits?" gaped Laybold.

"Yes; I believe they call them 'finkel.' We were tight last night, my boy."

"I remember all about it now. I dreamed that somebody lugged me in here."

"You didn't exactly dream it, for here we are. We are in a pretty sc.r.a.pe."

"That's so," added Laybold, shaking his head. "We didn't mean to run away, but that's just what we have done."

"We didn't run a great way; for, if I remember rightly, running wasn't our _forte_ last evening. Who runs may reel, if he can't read, and I reckon we did more reeling than running. But what's to be done?"

"I don't know."

"In the first place, where are we? It's no use to lay out a course till we know the ship's position."

They were utterly unable to determine this question. Each of them had a tolerably vivid recollection of their unfortunate condition on the preceding evening, and even that he had been carried by a couple of men; but they had no idea of time or locality. They washed themselves at the sink in the room, combed their hair with their pocket-combs, and looked then as though nothing had happened. Their heads were a little light, but they did not absolutely ache, and they realized but a small portion of the after effects of a regular "spree." Having made their simple toilet, they decided to explore the premises, and make their way back to the ship. Leaving the chamber, they descended a flight of steps, and, in the hall below, encountered the Samaritan landlord.

"_G.o.d morgon_," said the latter, with a jolly smile on his face; and it was probable that he had taken his morning dose of "finkel." "_Hur star det till?_" (How are you?)

"Nix," replied Scott, shrugging his shoulders.

"You are English," added the landlord, a large portion of whose customers were foreign sailors.

"No; Americans."

"I'm glad to see you."

"I'm glad to see you, too, if you can tell us how we happen to be here."

"Too much 'finkel,'" laughed the publican, as he proceeded to explain the situation, and to enlarge upon the fatherly interest which had induced him to take them in for the night.

"All right, my hearty. I see you can keep a hotel," added Scott. "How much have we to pay?"

"Two rigsdalers; but you want some breakfast."

"I do, for one," replied Scott.

"So do I," said Laybold. "We only had a little lunch last night, and that 'finkel' spoiled my appet.i.te--or the fish sp.a.w.n. I don't know which."

About five o'clock they sat down to breakfast, which consisted of a great variety of little things, such as the small fishes, herrings, smoked salmon, sausages. The coffee was magnificent, as it generally is in Sweden, even on board of steamers, where, in our own country, it is least expected to be good.

"What is this?" said Scott, taking up half a great brown biscuit.

"That's Swedish bread. We bake it once in six months," replied the landlord.

"Not bad," added Scott, as he tasted the article.

"This is Graham bread, I suppose," said Laybold, as he took a slice of the coa.r.s.e brown bread. "Bah! it's sour."

It always is; and both the students rejected it, though they ate a hearty meal of white bread, herring, salmon, and sausage.

"Now, how much?" asked Scott, when they were ready to go.

"One rigsdaler and fifty ore each--three rigsdalers in all."

"Cheap enough," said Scott. "Two lodgings and two breakfasts for eighty-one cents."

The students walked through the lane in which they had made their devious way the night before, to the main street on the ca.n.a.l. At the landing-place there were no boats belonging to the squadron, and everything looked exceedingly quiet on board of the ship. Seating themselves on the pier, with their legs hanging over the water, they decided to wait till a boat came to the sh.o.r.e.

"We shall catch it for this," said Laybold.

"No more liberty for a month at least," said Scott, shrugging his shoulders after his fashion.

"I don't think it's fair. We didn't mean to get drunk, and didn't know what 'finkel' was," added Laybold. "I don't half like to go on board again."

"Nor I; but I suppose we must face the music," answered Scott, dubiously. "I'm glad we didn't go on board while we were boozy. The fellows would have laughed at us for a year, if we had."

"That's so; and Lowington would have put us in the brig."

"I don't exactly like to explain the reason why we didn't go on board last night; I always was a bashful fellow."

"You didn't go with the others," said a man, coming up to them at this moment, and speaking in broken English.

"What others? Where?" replied Scott.

"The other students. They took the steamer up the ca.n.a.l at two o'clock this morning."

"Whew!" whistled Scott. "We have lost Gota Ca.n.a.l and the falls."

"They will return to-night by the railroad from Wenersberg," added the man, who was an agent of the ca.n.a.l steamers.

"That's too bad!" exclaimed Laybold, as the man walked away.

"I don't know that it is too bad. Our leave would have been stopped if we had gone on board," laughed Scott, who generally took the most cheerful view of any disagreeable subject. "Why can't we go on our own hook?"

"I like that idea," added Laybold.

But inquiring of the agent, they learned that the ca.n.a.l steamers left only at two o'clock in the morning.