Annapolis Omnibus

by

H. Irving Hancock

BOOK INDEX

Book 1

Dave Darrin's First Year at Annapolis

Two Plebe Midshipmen at the United States Naval Academy

Book 2

Dave Darrin's Second Year at Annapolis

Two Midshipmen as Naval Academy "Youngsters"

Book 3

Dave Darrin's Third Year at Annapolis

Leaders of the Second Class Midshipmen

Book 4

Dave Darrin's Fourth Year at Annapolis

Headed for Graduation and the Big Cruise

DAVE DARRIN'S FIRST YEAR AT ANNAPOLIS

or

Two Plebe Midshipmen at the United States Naval Academy

CONTENTS

I. Two Admirals in the Bud

II. The First Day at the Naval Academy

III. A Taste of Hazing

IV. The "Youngsters" Who Became "Spoons On"

V. Invited to Join the "Frenchers"

VI. Dave Passes the Lie

VII. On the Field of the Code

VIII. The Man Who Won

IX. Dan Just Can't Help Being "Touge"

X. "Just For Exercise!"

XI. Midshipman Henkel Does Some Thinking

XII. A Chronic Pap Frapper

XIII. Midshipman Farley's About-Face

XIV. The Trap in Midshipmen's Quarters

XV. Air "The Rogue's March"

XVI. Brimmer Makes a New Friend

XVII. Tony Baits the Hook

XVIII. In the Days of "Old Two-Five"

XIX. The Collision on the Chesapeake

XX. In the Line of Duty

XXI. Official and Other Report

XXII. The "Bazoo" makes Trouble

XXIII. The Spectre at the Fight Party

XXIV. Conclusion

I. TWO ADMIRALS IN THE BUD

"Dave, I'm getting nervous!"

"Is that the best way you can find to enjoy yourself?" demanded the taller boy.

"But I am, Dave—dreadfully nervous!" insisted Dan Dalzell positively.

"Well, you'll have to conceal it, then. The doctors at the United States Naval Academy won't pass any nervous wrecks," laughed Dave Darrin.

"Don't you understand?" demanded Dan, in a hurt voice. "The nearer we get to Annapolis the more nervous I'm getting."

"You'd better drop off, then," hinted Dave ironically, "and take the next car back to Odenton and Baltimore. What earthly good would a Naval officer be who was going to get nervous as soon as he came in sight of an enemy?"

"But I wouldn't get nervous in the sight the enemy," flared up Dan Dalzell.

"Then why get nervous about the folks down at the Naval Academy? They all intend to be your friends!"

"I guess that is true," Dan went on. "Of course, back in April, we went before the Civil Service Commission and took our academic examinations. We passed, and haven't got that to go up against again."

"We passed the home medical examiner, too," retorted Dave. "In fact, you might say that we passed the sawbones with honors.

"But that medical chap put in a long time listening at my chest," complained Dan Dalzell, who was undeniably fidgeting in his seat. "Then, too, the civil service sawbones told me that, while he passed me, as far as he was concerned, I'd have to stand the ordeal again before the Naval surgeons at Annapolis."

"Well, he did just the same thing with me," rejoined Darrin. "You just keep your eye on me, Dan! Do you see me shaking? Do you hear my voice falter? See me burning any blue lights?

"Perhaps, Dave, you don't take the whole business as much to heart as I do," continued Dan Dalzell almost tremulously. "Why, Great Scott, if they drop me at the Naval Academy, I'll be the bluest fellow you ever saw! But maybe you won't care, Dave, whether you are dropped or not."

"Won't I?" grumbled Darrin. "The Navy is the only thing in life that I care about!"

"Then aren't you nervous, just now?" demanded Dan.

"If I am, I'm not making a show of myself," retorted Darrin.

"But are you nervous?" begged Dan.

"No!" roared Dave, and then he allowed a grin to creep over his face.

"Oh, go ahead and say so tonight," jeered Dan. "Tomorrow, if you have the good luck to get sworn in, you'll have to quit fibbing and begin practicing at telling the truth. A midshipman at the Naval Academy, I understand, is kicked out of the service if he tells lies."

"Not quite—only in case he gets caught," laughed Dave Darrin.

"But really, about being nervous—"

"Oh, forget that sort of nonsense, won't you, Dan, old fellow?" begged his chum. "Just get your eye on the lovely country we're going through."

It was just about the first of June. Our two young travelers had come by train, from Baltimore to a little country junction. Thence they had traveled, briefly, by trolley, to Odenton. There, after a wait of some minutes, they had boarded another trolley car, and were now bowling along through the open country of that part of Maryland. At the end of their journey lay the historic little town of Annapolis. It was now after seven o'clock; still daylight, the fag end of a beautiful June day in Maryland.

Dave Darrin and Dan Dalzell had been appointed as midshipmen at the United States Naval Academy. If they should succeed in passing the four years' course in the big government school at Annapolis, they would then be sent to sea for two years, as midshipmen, after which they would return to Annapolis for their final examinations. Passing these last examinations, they would then be commissioned as ensigns in the United States Navy, with the possibility of some day becoming full-fledged admirals.

Readers of our High School Boys Series have no need of further introduction to Dave and Dan.

These two young men will be remembered as former members of Dick & Co., six famous chums back in the lively little city of Gridley.

Dick Prescott, Greg Holmes, Dave Darrin, Dan Dalzell, Tom Reade and Harry Hazleton had composed the famous sextette who, in their day at Gridley High School, had been fast chums and leaders in all pertaining to High School athletics in their part of the state.

Following their High School days, however, the six chums had become somewhat widely scattered. Dick Prescott and Greg Holmes secured appointments to the United States Military Academy. Readers of our West Point Series are already familiar with the stirring doings and life of Dick and Greg at the fine old Army Academy on the Hudson. At the time this present narrative opens Dick and Greg had been nearly three months as plebe cadets, as told in the first volume of the West Point Series, under the title, "Dick Prescott's First Year At West Point."

Tom Reade and Harry Hazleton had gone from Gridley High School to the far West, where they had connected themselves with a firm of civil engineers engaged in railway construction. What befell Tom and Harry is told in "The Young Engineers In Colorado," the first and very entertaining volume in the Young Engineers Series.

Readers of "The High School Captain of the Team" recall how Dave Darrin won his appointment to the Naval Academy, as did Dick Prescott his chance for West Point, from the Congressman of the home district. Dalzell's appointment, on the other hand, came from one of the two United States Senators from that state.

And here Dave and Dan were, on a trolley car from Odenton, rapidly nearing Annapolis.

At the forward end of the car was a small compartment set apart for the use of smokers Dave and Dan did not smoke; they had take seats in this compartment because they wished to be alone.

"You asked me to let you know when we got near Annapolis, gentlemen," announced the conductor, a cheery-faced young man, thrusting his head in. "There is the town right ahead of you."

"You said that you go by the hotel, I think?" Dave asked.

"I'll stop and call the hotel," replied the conductor. "We'll be there in less than two minutes."

It was a quaint, old-fashioned, very pretty southern town that the car now entered.

"I'll bet they're a thousand years behind the times here," sighed Dalzell, as they gazed about them.

"Not at the Naval Academy, anyway," retorted Dave Darrin.

"Oh, of course not," Dan made haste to agree.

The car passed an imposing-looking brick building that housed the post-office, then sped along past the handsome, dignified old residence of the Governor of Maryland. Up on a hill at their left the State Capitol stood out. Then the car bell clanged, and the car stopped.

"Maryland Hotel!" called the conductor.

Dave and Dan caught up their suit cases and descended from the car. At their right, the found the steps leading to the porch of the roomy old hotel. In another moment they were in the office, registering.

"You want a room together, gentlemen?" asked the clerk.

"Surely," retorted Dan. "My friend is always afraid when the gas is turned off. My presence quiets him."

"Pardon me, gentlemen, but are you on your way to the Naval Academy?" queried the clerk.

"Yes," nodded Dave quietly.

"Then you will want a room with bath, of course. You'll have to strip before the medical examiners tomorrow.

"A room with bath, of course," assented Dan. "I never have stopped at a hotel without a bathroom."

Dan didn't mention that this was the first time he had ever stopped at a hotel in his short life.

"Front!" called the clerk.

A small black boy in knee trousers came forward, picked up their suit cases and led the way to the next floor.

"My! I wonder who else is expected," muttered Dalzell, as the two young travelers found themselves in their room after the boy had left them.

It was an enormous room, and the three beds in it did not crowd the apartment in the least. All the furniture was of a massive and old-fashioned pattern.

A few minutes later, with face and hands washed—clean collars, clothes neatly brushed, the two clear-eyed, manly-looking young fellows returned to the first floor.

"I suppose this hotel is full of young men like ourselves, wondering what tomorrow will bring them, when they get before the sawbones," muttered Dan.

"Candidates, like ourselves, you mean?" suggested Darrin. "We'll inquire." With that, he approached the clerk and made the inquiry.

"Oh, no," replied the clerk, in answer to Dave's question. "There are only two other candidates besides yourselves stopping here. There are a good many young men in town, of course, but most of them have been here for some weeks, and are in lodging houses. A good many young men come here, you know, to attend the Naval preparatory schools before they go up for their examinations."

"We've had our academic examinations, and have passed," announced Dan.

"What about supper, sir?" asked Dave, who, in his short trip through the South, had noticed that in this part of the country the "sir" is generally employed.

"You'll find supper ready, gentlemen," replied the clerk, pointing the way to the dining room.

So the two young men passed in and enjoyed their first sample of southern cookery.

At this hour there were only a half dozen other people in the dining room—none of them interesting, Darrin decided, after hastily surveying the other diners.

The meal over, the two young candidates sauntered again out into the hotel office.

"Any midshipmen out around the town, sir?" Darrin asked.

"Hardly, sir," replied the clerk, with a smile. "At this hour the young gentlemen are in their rooms at Bancroft Hall."

"What does a midshipman look like?" ventured Dalzell.

"Like a human being, of course," Dave laughed.

"You mean the uniform?" inquired the clerk. "A midshipman, sir, wears a dark blue uniform, like an officer's, and a visored cap, Naval pattern. He also wears the anchor insignia on each side of his coat collar."

Dave and Dan soon walked over to the open doorway and stood looking out upon the street, in which, at this time, few people were passing. Hearing a step in the office, Dan quickly turned. He saw a young man coming through the office, holding himself very erect. This young man was in dark blue uniform, with visored cap, and on each side of his collar was the anchor insignia. Past the anchor were two bars, but Dalzell didn't notice that at the moment.

"There's a real midshipman," whispered Dan, plucking at Dave's sleeve. "I'm going to speak to him."

"Don't you do it," warned Dave, in an undertone. "You may make a mistake."

"Mistake?" echoed Dan. "With that anchor on his collar?"

Hastily Dan Dalzell slipped back into the office, going up to the young man in uniform, who had stopped before the desk.

"Good evening," began Dan politely. "I'd like to introduce myself. 'Tomorrow I expect to be one of the crowd. You're a midshipman, aren't you?"

"I'm an officer of the Navy," replied the uniformed stranger coldly, as he half turned to glance briefly at Dalzell. "You are a candidate, I suppose? Then I fancy you will report at the superintendent's office in the morning."

With that the Naval officer turned away, leaving poor Dalzell feeling decidedly dumfounded.

"Wasn't that a midshipman?" gasped Dan, in a whisper.

"That gentleman is a lieutenant in the Navy," replied the clerk, with a slight smile.

Crestfallen Dan hurried back to Darrin, brushing off his sleeves with his hands as he walked.

"Served you right; you must get over being fresh," Dave Darrin rebuked his chum. "But what is the matter with your sleeves?"

"I'm brushing the frost off of them," murmured Dan dejectedly. "Did you notice the ice-bath that fellow threw over me?"

"Come out for a walk," urged Dave. "But be careful where you step and what you say to others."

The two young men strolled down the street.

"Well," smiled Darrin, "I must say, Dan, that you appear to be getting all over your nervousness."

"No; I'm still nervous," protested Dan. "Before, I was afraid I wouldn't get into the Naval Academy. Now, I'm only afraid that I shall."

"What nonsense are you talking now?" demanded Darrin, giving his chum a sharp look.

"Why, if they're all going to be as chesty as that near-officer I spoke to in the hotel," blinked Dan, "I'm not so sure that I want to go in with the bunch."

"That officer wasn't either chesty or snobbish," rejoined Darrin.

"Then you will kindly explain what he tried to do to me?"

"That's easy enough. That Naval officer recognized in you a rather common type—the too-chummy and rather fresh American boy. Down here in the service, where different grades in rank exist, it is necessary to keep the fresh greenhorn in his place."

"Oh!" muttered Dan, blinking hard.

"As to your not wanting to go into the service," Dave continued, "if you should fail, tomorrow, in your physical examination, you would be as blue as indigo, and have the blue-light signal up all the way back home."

"I don't know but that is so. Yes; I guess it is," Dalzell assented.

"Now, there are at least ninety-nine chances in a hundred that you're going to pass the Navy doctors all right, Dan," his chum went on. "If you do, you'll be sworn into the Naval service as a midshipman. Then you'll have to keep in mind that you're not an admiral, but only a midshipman—on probation, at that, as our instructions from the Navy Department inform us. Now, as a new midshipman, you're only the smallest, greenest little boy in the whole service. Just remember that, and drop all your jolly, all your freshness and all your patronizing ways. Just listen and learn, Dan, and study, all the time, how to avoid being fresh. If you don't do this, I'm mighty confident that you're up against a hard and tough time, and that you'll have most of the other midshipmen down on you from the start."

"Any more 'roast' for me?" asked Dalzell plaintively.

"No; for, if you need any more, you'll get it from other midshipmen, who don't know you as well as I do, and who won't make any allowances for your greenness and freshness."

"My!" murmured Dan enthusiastically. "Won't I quiver with glee the first time I see you being called for twelve-inch freshness!"

Yet, despite their wordy encounters, the two remained, as always, the best and most loyal of friends.

For an hour and a half the two youngsters roamed about Annapolis, taking many interested looks at quaint old buildings that had stood since long before the Revolutionary War.

At last they turned back to the hotel, for, as Dalzell suggested, they needed a long night's sleep as a good preparation for going before the Naval surgeons on the next day.

Five minutes after they had turned out the gas Dave Darrin was soundly, blissfully asleep.

In another bed in the same room Dan Dalzell tossed for fully half an hour ere sleep caught his eyelids and pinned them down. In his slumber, however, Dan dreamed that he was confronting the superintendent of the Naval Academy and a group of officers, to whom he was expounding the fact that he was right and they were wrong. What the argument was about Dan didn't see clearly, in his dream, but he had the satisfaction of making the superintendent and most of the Naval officers with him feel like a lot of justly-rebuked landsmen.

II. THE FIRST DAY AT THE NAVAL ACADEMY

A few minutes before nine o'clock, the next morning, Dave and Dan were strolling through Lover's Lane, not far from the administration building at the United States Naval Academy.

Their instructions bade them report at 9.15. Dan was for going in at once and "calling on" the aide to the superintendent. But this Dave vetoed, holding that the best thing for them to do was to stick to the very letter of their orders.

So, as they waited, the young men got a glimpse of the imposing piles of buildings that compose the newer Naval Academy. Especially did handsome, big, white Bancroft Hall enchain their admiration. This structure is one of the noblest in the country. In it are the midshipmen's mess, the midshipmen's barracks for a thousand young men, numerous offices and a huge recreation hall.

"That's a swell hotel where they're going to put us up for four years, isn't it?" demanded Dan.

"I fancy that we'll find it something more—or less—than a hotel, before we're through it," was Dave's prophetic reply.

As, at this time in the morning, all of the enrolled midshipmen were away at one form or another of drill or instruction, the central grounds were so empty of human life that the onlooker could form no idea of the immense, throbbing activity that was going on here among the hundreds of midshipmen on duty.

"Here's some of our kind," spoke Dan, at last, as he espied more than a dozen young men, in citizen's dress, strolling along under the trees.

"I guess they're candidates, fast enough," nodded Darrin, after briefly looking at the approaching group.

"Cheap-looking lot, most of them, aren't they?" asked Dalzell cheerfully.

"Probably they're saying the same thing about us," chuckled Dave dryly.

"Let 'em, then. Who cares?" muttered Dalzell.

"Dan, my boy, I reckon you'll need to put the soft pedal on your critical tendencies," warned Dave. "And, if you want my friendly opinion, I've a big idea that you're going to talk your way into a lot of trouble here."

"Trouble?" grinned Dalzell. "Well, I'm used to it."

In truth Dan had been victor in many a hard-fought schoolboy disagreement, as readers of the High School Boys Series are aware.

As the young men in question drew nearer they eyed Darrin and Dalzell with a disapproval that was not wholly concealed. The truth was that Dave and Dan were recognized as not being boys who had studied at one of the Naval prep. schools in Annapolis. The assumption was, therefore, that Dave and Dan had not been able to afford such a luxury.

"Good morning, gentlemen," was Dave's pleasant greeting. "You are candidates, like ourselves, I take it?"

This fact being acknowledged, Dave introduced himself and his friend, and soon some pleasant new acquaintances were being formed, for Darrin had a way that always made him popular with strangers.

"Have you two got to go up before the June exams. here?" asked one of the young men, who had introduced himself as Grigsby.

"Part of it," grinned Dan. "We've already gone through the primer tests and the catechism, and that sort of thing; but we still have to go before the barber and the toilet specialists and see whether our personal appearance suits."

"You're lucky, then," replied Grigsby. "Our crowd all have to take the academic exams."

"Cheer up," begged Dan. "Any baby can go past the academic exams. Arithmetic is the hardest part. One funny chap on the Civil Service Commission nearly got me by asking me how much two and two are, but Darrin saved me, just in the nick of time, by holding up five fingers; so I knew the answer right off."

Some of the candidates were already surveying Dan with a good deal of amusement. They had heard much of the severe way upper classmen at the Naval Academy have of taking all the freshness out of a new man, and, like Dave, these other candidates scented plenty of trouble ahead for cheerful, grinning Dan Dalzell.

"Gentlemen," broke in Dave quietly, "do you see the time on the clock over on the academic building? It's nine-fourteen. What do you say if we step promptly over to the administration building and plunge into what's ahead of us?"

"Good enough," nodded one of the new acquaintances. "Suppose you lead the way?"

So, with Dan by his side, Dave piloted the others over to the administration building, just beyond the chapel.

As they stepped inside, and found themselves in a hallway, a marine orderly confronted them.

"Candidates, gentlemen? Walk right upstairs. An orderly there will direct you to the office of the superintendent's aide."

"Thank you," replied Dave, with a bow, and led the way upstairs.

Near the head of the stairs another marine, in spick-and-span uniform, wearing white gloves and with a bayonet at his belt, called out quietly:

"Candidates? First two, step this way please."

He swung open a door. Dave and Dan stepped into an office where they found a young-looking though slightly bald gentleman in uniform, seated behind a flat-top desk.

"We have come to report, sir, according to our instructions," announced Dave Darrin, happily.

"You are candidates, then?" asked Lieutenant-Commander Graham, reaching for a pile of bound sheets.

"Yes, sir."

"Names?

"David Darrin and Daniel Dalzell, sir."

"Have you your papers, Mr. Darrin?"

"Yes, sir."

Dave drew an official-looking envelope from an inner pocket and handed it to Lieutenant-Commander Graham.

These the Naval aide scanned closely, after which he looked up.

"You have your papers, Mr. Dalzell?"

"Yes," nodded Dan.

A more than perceptible frown flashed across the face of the officer.

"Mr. Dalzell, whenever you answer an officer you will say 'yes, sir,' or 'very good, sir.'"

Rather red in the face Dan handed over his envelope.

Mr. Graham examined these papers, too. Then, pulling a pile of blanks before him, he filled out two, bearing the names of the young men, and signed them, after which he handed one of the signed blanks to each.

"Mr. Darrin, you will inquire of the orderly downstairs your way to the office of the commandant of midshipmen. You will then at once present yourself before the commandant, handing him this paper."

"Yes, sir; thank you, sir," replied Dave, with a slight bow.

"Mr. Dalzell, stick close to your friend and you will find out what to do."

"Yes, sir," murmured Dan, again reddening.

The orderly below directed the two young men how to proceed to the main entrance of Bancroft Hall, there to turn to their left and inquire again their way to the commandant's office.

"You see," lectured Dave pleasantly, as the chums plodded along one of the walks, "you have already received your first lesson. You answered the superintendent's aide without saying 'sir.' You'll have to work out of this freshness."

"That wasn't freshness; it was ignorance," protested Dalzell. "Don't you worry, Dave; I shall soon get the Naval trotting gait to such an extent that I shall be saying 'sir' at every other word."

This declaration was more prophetic than Dalzell could guess at that moment.

Each lad had a queer feeling at heart as he began to climb the long series of white steps that lead to the main entrance to Bancroft Hall. What would be the outcome? Were they hence-forth to find this huge pile "home" for four years to come? Would they, through all after life, look back upon this great government training school as their alma mater? It all seemed to depend, now, on the verdict of the examining Naval surgeons!

But there was little time for thought. Once inside, they were ushered, by a white-gloved midshipman, into the office of Commander Jephson, commandant of midshipmen.

That gentleman, also in uniform, as were all Navy officers on duty at the Academy, looked briefly as the two young men stood before him.

"Candidates, gentlemen?"

"Yes, sir," replied Dave.

"Your orders?"

Each young man handed over the slip given him by the aide. Commander Jephson scanned each sheet closely, then made some entries on a set of papers of his own.

Next the commandant touched a button on his desk. Almost immediately footsteps were heard outside. Another white-gloved midshipman entered, raising his hand smartly to his cap in salute. This salute the commandant acknowledged in kind.

"Mr. Salisbury, conduct Candidates Darrin and Dalzell outside. Ascertain how soon the surgeons will be ready to examine them, and conduct the candidates to the Board Room at the time assigned for their examination."

"Very good, sir," replied Midshipman Salisbury, in measured tones. Again the inter-change of salutes, after which Midshipman Salisbury led Dave and Dan to an outer office.

"Wait here," directed the midshipman briefly, "I'll let you know when it's time to go to the Board Room."

Five minutes later the midshipman again approached them.

By this time there were seven more candidates in the room. The aide to the superintendent and the commandant were passing the young men quickly through the mill.

"Mr. Darrin, Mr. Dalzell!" called the midshipman master of ceremonies. As Dave and Dan started to their feet their conductor added:

"Follow me to the Board Room."

Down the corridor and into the Board Room the two chums were led. There, awaiting them, they found three Naval medical officers, all in their proper uniform and one of them seated at a desk.

"Strip, with the least delay possible," ordered the senior surgeon.

In a very short space of time Dave and Dan stood forth, minus clothes and, it must be confessed, both very nervous as to what these medical men might or might not find.

Thorough, indeed, was the examination, which began with the heart. But it went much further, including the hair, scalp, eyes, teeth, the condition of the tonsils, the appearance of the tongue, and so on, by regular stages, down to the soles of their feet.

"If there's a square quarter of an inch these fellows have missed, I didn't notice it," muttered Dan to himself.

"You may dress, Mr. Darrin," announced the senior surgeon, and Dave went to the chair on which his clothing lay.

"Mr. Dalzell, come here a moment"

Dan began to feel queer. What had they missed? On what point was his physical condition doubtful?

"Open your mouth," directed one of the surgeons.

Then followed some more exploration of his teeth.

"Oh," murmured Dan, when the medical men gave him a rest for a moment. "It's only my teeth, eh? That's not a vitally important point, is it, sir?"

"We reject candidates for what might seem very slight defects of the teeth," replied the senior surgeon, with emphasis. "Open your mouth again."

The cold ooze stood out on Dan's brow this time. Joke as he might, he did not want to be dropped out of the Navy. Were these medical officers going to find, in his mouth, the clue his disqualification?

"Hm!" said the senior surgeon, watching while another medical officer did the probing and the holding of the dental mirrors.

That "hm!" sent a cold chill of dread coursing down young Daniel's spine.

"Your teeth just about pass," remarked the senior officer. "You may dress, Mr. Dalzell."

It was not long before Dave and Dan both had their clothing on. As Dan was finishing, Dave turned to the senior surgeon.

"Is it improper, sir, for me to ask whether we have passed?" asked Darrin quietly.

"You have both passed," nodded the surgeon. "Mr. Dalzell, however, will do well to take the most wholesome care of his teeth hereafter."

Just then the door opened and two more candidates were shown in.

"Come with me," directed the same midshipman master of ceremonies.

Dan was indiscreet enough to range up alongside their conductor, just missing a vigorous nudge that Dave tried to give him.

"Well, we slipped by the drug-store sign all right," Dan confided to the white-gloved midshipman. "Now, how soon do we get our messenger-boy uniforms?

"Never, I hope," replied their conductor frigidly, "unless you can learn to speak of the uniform of the service with more respect."

Dan fell back abashed. His style of humor, he was fast discovering, did not seem to make a hit at Annapolis.

Back in the same waiting room the two young men lingered until nearly eleven o'clock. More than two score of candidates had passed the medical examiners by this time, and some others had failed to pass. Yet many of these successful candidates had yet to take their scholastic examinations over in Academic Hall, and so did not wait with Dave and Dan, who had now passed in everything.

By eleven there were fully a dozen young men who, like Dave and Dan, were ready to be sworn in. These were now led to the commandant's office. Here each signed a paper agreeing to serve in the United States Navy for a term of eight years, unless sooner legally discharged. Each also signed a statement to the effect that he took this step with the full permission of parents or guardian.

Then the commandant of cadets ordered them to form in a line facing his desk. A notary appeared, who administered to them the oath of loyalty and obedience. These young men were at last actual members of the brigade of midshipmen.

Commander Jephson now delivered a short address to the lined-up dozen. He pointed out where the lines of their duty lay, and exhorted them to seek their duty and to perform it at all times. In closing the commandant put emphasis on these words:

"One word more, young gentlemen. Until this moment perhaps all of you have been wont to look upon yourself as boys. That time has passed. From the moment that you were sworn into the Navy of the United State—remember—you became men. All of your superior officers will now look to you to realize most fully that you are men—men in word, deed, thought and judgment."

Now another midshipman, a cadet petty officer, appeared and conducted the new members of the brigade outside.

"Fall in by twos," he directed. "When I give the word, move forward as well as you can, in the idea of marching."

It was, indeed, a busy hour that followed. The young men were led before the midshipmen's pay officer, with whom each deposited the sum of two hundred and sixty-four dollars and ninety-eight cents. This amount from each new midshipman is required by law. Of this sum sixty dollars is applied to the purchase of books needed by the new midshipman. The balance of the sum goes to pay for uniforms, articles of equipment, etc. From this it would seem that an absolutely poor boy had no chance to enter the Naval Academy. It usually happens, however, that, when a very poor boy is appointed to the Naval Academy, his Congressman, or some of his friends or fellow townsmen will loan him the money, returnable after he enters the service as an officer.

In addition to the amount required by law to be deposited with the Academy authorities each midshipman is ordered to turn over any other money that may be in his possession, this extra amount to be credited to him. A midshipman, on entering the service, receives a salary of six hundred dollars a year. Nearly all of this, however, is required to pay his ordinary expenses. Each midshipman is allowed a very small amount of spending money, with, however, a more liberal allowance when visiting ports during a cruise.

It is forbidden for a midshipman to receive spending money from home or friends. Midshipmen sometimes disobey this latter regulation, but, if detected, are liable to severe punishment.

Afterwards the new midshipmen were taken to the storekeeper's, where each was supplied with one of the uniform caps worn by midshipmen.

Thence the young men were marched back to Bancroft Hall and out onto the terrace over the mess hall.

"Halt! Break ranks!" commanded their instructor, Midshipman Cranthorpe. "You will now pay close heed and endeavor to learn rapidly. Mr. Darrin, step over here."

Dave went forward, Midshipman Cranthorpe placing him.

"The others will form in line of platoon front, using Mr. Darrin as their guide," directed the young instructor.

Then followed some rapid-fire drilling in dressing, facings, counting fours, marching and halting. The material in hand was excellent, or Midshipman Cranthorpe might have been in despair.

Presently their instructor gave the order to break ranks, showing the new men where to stand, up against the building, out of the way. Almost immediately a bugler sounded a call. Then the new men were treated to a sight that made their blood dance.

Out of Bancroft Hall hastily poured scores and scores of midshipmen, until nearly six hundred had assembled. These were the members of the three upper classes.

The brigade of midshipmen is divided into two battalions, each of two divisions, six companies. The first and fourth companies formed on the right of the first battalion, the seventh and tenth companies on the right of the second battalion. The divisions formed with intervals of two paces between companies preparatory to muster. Second call was sounded quickly on the bugle, immediately after which the first petty officer of each company began briskly to call the roll. Each man answered just loudly enough to be heard. While roll-call was going on company commanders stepped briskly along inspecting their companies.

As the muster of each company was completed the first petty officer commanded, "count off!"

"One, two, three, four! One, two, three four!" went the count along each company line. Then the first petty officer of each company wheeled about, saluted his company commander, and reported:

"Sir, all present or accounted for!"

Company commanders next corrected the alignment on the right center company of each line.

Battalion commanders, seeing the divisions of their respective battalions aligned, faced about, while the battalion adjutants took post to right and rear. The brigade adjutant then faced about, saluted the brigade commander, reporting: "Sir, the brigade is formed."

Receiving the word from his superior, the brigade adjutant next read the orders, after which he was ordered to take his post.

While this was going on Midshipman Cranthorpe had formed his awkward squad to the rear, behind the first battalion.

Now orders rang out crisply for battalion commanders to take charge. Thereupon each battalion commander marched his command in column of squads into the mess hall; battalion commanders preceding their battalions, company commanders preceding their companies and the junior officers of each company following the company. Last of all came Midshipman Cranthorpe's awkward squad.

And very awkward, indeed, these young men felt. Each had a burning conviction that he was being watched curiously by hundreds of pairs of eyes. The new men might as well have saved themselves their worry. Barely an upper class man in the hall was paying any heed whatever to these self-conscious plebes.

The meal, a mid-day dinner, was an excellent one. Few of the new men, however, had any notion of what it consisted.

Mess hall was left with almost the same amount of formality. In the short recreation period that followed the new men, painfully conscious that their caps were the only part of the uniform they wore, were hurried away by Midshipman Cranthorpe.

Now they were quickly assigned to the rooms that they would occupy during their first year at the Naval Academy.

The midshipmen are not roomed by classes. Instead, each is assigned to a company, and there are three companies to a division. Each division occupies a floor in Bancroft Hall. It is not called a "floor" but a "deck." Dave and Dan were assigned to the armory wing of the lowest deck, on what was virtually the basement floor of Bancroft Hall, or would have been, but for the mess hall underneath.

As far as wood work went it was a handsome room. When it came to the matter of furniture it was plain enough. There was the main or study room. Off at either side was an alcove bedroom. There was also a closet in which stood a shower bath. The one window of the room looked over across the Academy grounds in the direction of Academic Hall.

A cadet petty officer from the first class briefly, crisply instructed them concerning the care of their room, and their duties within its walls.

What followed that afternoon put the heads of the new midshipmen in a whirl. Afterwards they had a confused recollection of having been marched to the tailor at the storekeeper's, where they were measured for uniforms, all of which are made to order. They recalled receiving a thin, blue volume entitled "Regulations of the U.S. Naval Academy," a book which they were advised by a first clansman instructor to "commit to memory."

"In former days, in the old-time academy, there were something more than six hundred regulations," dryly remarked the cadet petty officer in charge of them. "In the new up-to-date Naval Academy there are now more than one thousand regulations. You are all expected to appreciate this merciful decrease in the number of things you are required to remember."

There were also two periods of drill, that afternoon, and what-not more.

Supper came as a merciful release. When the meal was over, while many of the upper class men remained outside in the warm June air, the plebes were ordered to go to their rooms and start in making themselves familiar with the thousand-and-more regulations.

"Thank goodness they give us some time for light reading," muttered Dan Dalzell, as he stalked into his room, hung up his uniform cap and sank into a chair. "Whew! What a day this has been!"

"I've rather enjoyed it," murmured Dave, as he sank into the chair on the opposite side of the study table.

"Huh! You have liberal ideas, then, about enjoyment. How many hundred rules are you going to commit to memory tonight?

"I don't know," returned Dave. "But I do know that my head is in a big whirl, and that I'm going to rest it for a few minutes. By the way, Dan, there's one thing I hope you remember."

"What is that?" demanded Dalzell.

"What did they tell us this lower deck was named?"

"Dunno," grunted Dan. "But I have my own name for it. I call it the pinochle deck."

"I'm afraid that won't do to repeat," laughed Dave.

At that moment the handle of the door was turned. Five upper class midshipmen entered, closing the door behind them. Then they stood there, glaring at the two poor plebes in "cit." clothes.

III. A TASTE OF HAZING

"Good evening, gentlemen," nodded Dave pleasantly, as he rose and stood by the study table, waiting to hear the pleasure of his visitors.

Dan Dalzell favored his callers with a nod, but remained seated, both hands thrust deep in his pockets.

"Get up on your feet, mister!" ordered one of the midshipmen, so sternly that Dan obeyed like a shot.

"Excuse me," he began hastily. "I didn't know you came here in an official capacity. I thought—"

"Silence, mister!" commanded another of the visitors. Dan subsided.

"What's your name, mister?" demanded the last speaker, as he favored Dave with his next glance.

"Why, my name is Dave Darrin," replied that plebe pleasantly.

"Say 'sir,' mister, when you address an upper class man. When asked your name, reply, 'Darrin, sir.'"

"Darrin, sir," replied Dave promptly.

"Stand at attention, both of you!" commanded another visitor.

Both plebes obeyed. Now still another caller wheeled upon Dan.

"What's your name, mister."

"Dan Dalzell."

"Dalzell—Sir!" thundered Dan's questioner.

"Dalzell, sir," Dan responded meekly enough.

"It is plain enough that both of you plebes need a good deal of practice in the use of the word, sir. Therefore, in your next answers, you will be careful to employ 'sir' after each word that you utter in your reply. Mister," to Dave, "what did you come to the Naval Academy for?"

"To, sir, become, sir, a sir, Naval, sir, officer. Sir."

"Very good, mister. Mister," to Dalzell, "why did you come here?"

"For sir, the same pur—"

"Sir, sir, sir, sir!" interrupted the quizzer. "Now, try again, mister."

"For, sir, the, sir, same, sir, purpose, sir."

"Now, mister," continued the quizzing visitor, transfixing Dalzell with a look of tremendous sternness, "can you talk French?"

Dan's eyes twinkled briefly.

"I don't know, sir. I never tried, sir," replied Dalzell, in pretended embarrassment.

For a moment it looked as though Dan had turned the tables of mischief upon his tormentors. His reply was so absurd that all of the upper class men, for a moment, betrayed signs of twitching at the corners of their mouths. Then all of them conquered the desire to laugh and returned to the inquest with added severity. The late questioner turned to one of his classmates, remarking scornfully:

"Touge!"

"Very touge, indeed" replied the one addressed.

A "touge" plebe, in Naval Academy parlance, is one who is wholly "fresh."

"Mister," continued Dan's quizzer, "we find you too full of levity for one who intends to embrace the profession of quarter-deck lounger. In our belief it will be necessary for you to let some new ideas soak into your head. Mister, get your wash basin and fill it exactly half full of water. Remember, mister—neither a drop nor less than exactly half full."

Dan's first impulse was to grin, his second to laugh. Yet something in the tone and look of the last speaker made "touge" Dalzell feel that the simplest way out of difficulty would be for him to obey as carefully and speedily as he could. So, with a hurried "very good, sir," Dalzell turned in quest of his basin. He brought it, just about half full, for the inspection of his imperious visitor.

"Place it there on the floor, beside the wall," ordered the tormentor

Dan obeyed.

"Now, mister, stand on your head in that water!"

Dan flushed hotly, for an instant. He even clenched his fists. Then, with a sudden rush of good sense to the head, he bent over to carry out the order that he had received.

It was not as easy a feat as might be supposed, even for a rather well trained and hardened athlete like Dan Dalzell.

He got his head into the bowl all right, and rested his hands on the floor on either side of the bowl. It was when he tried to throw his feet up against the wall that he came to grief. His feet slid along the wall and came down to the floor again.

Dan fell out of the bowl with a good deal of splash.

"If, at first, you don't succeed, mister," began Midshipman Trotter, who had constituted himself chief of the tormentors, "try, try some more."

"I'll make it, sir," responded Dan cheerily, and his very manner, now, inclined his tormentors to go a little more lightly with him.

At the third trial, with his eyes closed, just below the level of the water, Dalzell succeeded in standing very solidly on his head.

The upper class men, who were all third class men, or "youngsters" as they are unofficially termed, watched the performance with interest.

"Rather well done, for a beginner," commented Midshipman Trotter. "As you were, mister."

Dan, unfortunately, tried to be a bit "smart." He made a half somersault forward, trying to spring up on his feet. He fell back, however, and sat down squarely in what was left of the water.

"Never mind a little wet, mister," advised Midshipman Trotter, with a very serious face. "We always rate a man as highly awkward, however, if he breaks the washbowl."

"Which one of you is the better athlete?" suddenly asked Midshipman Harris.

Neither chum intended to be caught, by this crowd, as wanting in modesty.

"He is, sir," replied Dan, with great promptness, nodding toward Darrin.

"Dalzell is, sir," contended Dave.

"In view of this conflicting testimony, we shall have to settle the question by actual test," replied Mr. Trotter. "Mister," to Dan, "bale out your boat."

From the nod which accompanied this command Dalzell understood that he was to empty the water from his wash basin so he promptly obeyed.

"Mister," to Darrin, "launch your boat on this water here."

Plainly the "water" signified the floor. Dave brought out his own wash basin with alacrity. Under further orders the chums placed their bowls about four feet apart.

"Here," announced Midshipman Trotter, taking two toothpicks from a pocket, "are a pair of oars."

Dave Darrin received the toothpicks with a grin.

"And here are your oars, mister," supplemented Mr. Trotter, handing another pair of toothpicks to Dan Dalzell.

At this instant a faint knock was heard at the door, which opened immediately after.

"Got a pair of beasts at work, fellows?" asked a voice. "Here are some more young admirals who need a little help."

Four new midshipmen, in the custody of three youngsters, now stepped into the room and the door was closed.

"Bender's in charge of the floor tonight, you know," nodded one of the newly-arrived youngsters, "and Bender's duty-crazy. Besides, he belongs to the second class, and hardly admits that we're alive."

On each floor a midshipman is detailed to be in charge through the evening. He is responsible for discipline on his floor, and must report all breaches of the rules. A midshipman who wishes to stand well with his comrades may, when in charge of the floor, conveniently fail to see a good many minor breaches of discipline. When the man in charge of the floor reports all breaches that come to his notice he is said to be duty-crazy. He is also charged with "trying to make his mark in grease." "Grease" is high standing on the efficiency report. As a rule the man who stands well in "grease" stands somewhat lower in general popularity.

Midshipman Bender, second class, was, at this time, regarded as one of the worst "greasers" of all.

"What's on?" inquired Midshipman Hayes, one of the newcomers in the room. "Tub race?"

"No, sir; fast spurt in single-pair shells," replied Midshipman Trotter impressively.

"Whew! You've caught some real athletes, have you?"

"That's what we want to find out," responded Mr. Trotter. "Now, then, misters, we warn you against approaching this noble sport in any spirit of levity! You are not to think that this work is for your own amusement, or for anyone else's. You must try yourselves out fairly and squarely. Our purpose is to find out which is the better oarsman, and also which rows with the more finish. Take your seats in your craft."

Dave and Dan seated themselves, with all possible gravity, in their respective wash basins.

"Up oars!" commanded Mr. Trotter.

As neither plebe knew just what was meant by this command they had to be shown how to sit holding their "oars" straight up in the air.

"Let fall!"

This time the two new men guessed fairly well. They went through the motions of allowing their toothpick oars to fall into row-locks.

"Now, at the outset, take your strokes from my count," directed Mr. Trotter. "One, two three, four, five, six, seven—"

And so on. It was all ludicrously absurd, to see Dave and Dan bending to their tasks as seriously as though they were rowing real craft with actual oars.

One of the visiting plebes was stupid enough to giggle.

"Go over and stand by the window in arrest, mister," ordered Midshipman Hayes. "You shall be tried later!"

Then the "boat race" continued. It soon proved to be more than absurd; it was decidedly fatiguing. Both Dave and Dan found that their strained positions, and the motions required of them, made backs and shoulders ache. Their legs, too, began to suffer from cramp.

It was not until both showed signs of decided weariness that the race was brought to an end.

Then the cadet who had giggled was called forward, ordered to half fill one of the washbowls and to stand on his head in it.

While this was going on there was not a smile from anyone. From the serious faces of all this might have been one of the most important bits of drill in the whole course at the Academy.

Dave, however, made the best impression upon the youngsters. All the other new men came sooner or later, to the ordeal of standing on their heads in the wet bowl, but Dave seemed destined to escape.

The rowing was carried on until all of the youngsters had tired of this sport.

"Fall in, in platoon front," directed Midshipman Trotter.

The six plebes, solemn as owls, stood up in line, "dressing" their line carefully.

"Now, attend me carefully," cautioned Mr. Trotter, sweeping a stern glance down the line of plebes. "I am about to tell you a bit of the day's news from over in Sleepy Hollow, which place is known to Maryland geographers as the village of Annapolis. You must attend me with extreme care, for, after I have narrated the news, I shall question you concerning it. Do you follow me, misters?"

"Yes, sir," came in a chorus.

"You need not answer quite as loudly," warned Midshipman Trotter, sending a backward look over his shoulder at the door. "Now, then, the police over in Sleepy Hol—Annapolis—today learned the details of a yellow tragedy. Some weeks ago three Chinamen came to town and opened a clean—I mean, a new—laundry. During the last week, however, the public noted that the door leading from the office to the rear room was always closed. You follow me?"

"Yes, sir," came in an almost whispered chorus.

"Finally," continued Mr. Trotter, "one customer, more curious than the others, reported his observations to the police. Today the Johnny Tinplates made a raid on the place. A most curious state of affairs came to light. So—but is this tangled tale clear to you all as far as I have gone?"

"Yes, sir," came the whispered chorus.

"What the police learned," went on Mr. Trotter, in a voice that now sounded slightly awestruck, "was this: a week ago the three Chinese partners had a serious row. They quarreled, then fought. Two of the yellow partners killed the third! And now, a serious problem confronted the two survivors of that misunderstanding. What was to be done with the remains of the unsuccessful disputant?"

Midshipman Trotter looked at each of the wondering plebes in turn. It looked as though he were asking the question of them.

"I don't know, sir," admitted Dan Dalzell, at the left of the line.

"I don't know, sir," admitted the man next to Dan. So it went down the line, until Dave Darrin, at the further end, had admitted himself to be as much in the dark as were the others.

"Then, listen," resumed Mr. Trotter impressively. "The Chinese, being descended from a very ancient civilization, are not only very ingenious but also very thrifty. They were burdened with two hundred pounds of evidence on the premises. In their extremity the two survivors cut up their late partner, cooked him, and disposed of the flesh at meal times."

From the gravity of the narrator's expression he appeared to be reciting a wholly true story.

"Now, then," rasped out Midshipman Trotter, "that being the state of affairs at the laundry—what was the telephone number?"

Trotter's gaze was fixed on Dan Dalzell's face almost accusingly.

"How the—" began startled Dan gruffly. Then, instantly realizing that he was making a mistake, he broke in hastily:

"Beg your pardon, sir, but I don't understand how to get at the telephone number."

"You try, mister," ordered Midshipman Trotter, turning to the plebe next to Dalzell.

"I can't solve the problem, sir."

So it ran, straight down the line, each confessing his ignorance, until finally Mr. Trotter glared at Dave Darrin.

"Come, come, mister, from the very exact narrative that I have given, can't you deduce the telephone number of that laundry?"

"Yes, sir; I think so," answered Darrin, with a slight smile.

"Ah! Then there's a man in the squad who is more than a mere saphead. Let us have the telephone number, mister!

"Two-ate-one-John," replied Dave promptly.

This was the correct answer. Dave had heard that "gag" before.

"Mister," beamed Mr. Trotter, "I congratulate you. You are no mollycoddle. Your head is not over-fat, but somewhat stocked with ideas. As soon as you have soaked in a few more ideas you will be fit to associate with the young gentlemen at this sailor-factory. You may, therefore, take the washbowl, fill it half full of ideas, and stand on your head in them until they have soaked well in!"

Poor Dave, his face flushed crimson, could have dropped in his humiliation at having thus fallen into the trap. But he started manfully for the washbowl, which he half filled with water. Meanwhile the other five plebes were choking. They could have screamed in their glee—had they dared!

Placing the bowl where ordered, Dave bent down to his knees, immersing the top of his head in the water.

With hands on opposite sides of the bowl he balanced his feet, preparatory to hoisting them into place against the wall.

"Up oars!" commanded Mr. Hayes dryly.

From one of the visiting plebes came an incautious giggle. Mr. Hayes turned and marked his man with a significant stare that made the unfortunate giggler turn red and white in turn with alarm.

At the order, "up oars," Dave Darrin sent his feet aloft. By rare good luck he succeeded the first time trying.

There he remained, his head in the bowl of water, his feet resting against the wall.

Just at this moment, though, the sound of trouble was in the air, even if it reached interested ears but faintly.

A step was heard in the corridor outside. There was a faint knock.

The upper class midshipmen knew on the instant what the knock meant—and so indeed did Dave Darrin.

IV. THE "YOUNGSTERS" WHO BECAME "SPOONS ON"

It was a most critical moment in the life histories of several young men who had grown to consider themselves as future officers in the United States Navy!

Such a man as Midshipman Bender was certain to report any form of hazing he detected.

Now, the usual punishment meted out to hazers at either Annapolis or West Point is dismissal from the service!

True, this was not brutal hazing, but merely the light form of the sport known as "running" the new man.

Nevertheless, "all hazing looks alike" to the public, when posted by the newspapers, and the Naval Academy authorities deal severely with even "running."

So, for all of the "youngsters," or third class men, who had been conducting the evening's festivities, all the elements of trouble, and perhaps of dismissal, were at hand.

But Dave Darrin had been the first to hear the soft approach of footsteps, and somehow, he had guessed at the meaning of it all.

Just in the fraction of a second before the knock had sounded at the door Dave had made a fine handspring that brought him from his topsy-turvy attitude to a position of standing on his feet. And, at the same time, he held the washbowl in his hand without having spilled a drop of the water. Like a flash Dave few across the room, depositing the bowl where it belonged. With a towel he wiped his hair, then swiftly mopped his face dry. Hair brush and comb in hand, he turned, saving:

"Why, I suppose, gentlemen, Dalzell and myself were very fair athletes in the High School sense of the word. But it's a long jump from that to aspiring to the Navy football team. Of course we'll turn out for practice, if you wish, but—"

At this moment, Lieutenant Bender, the "duty-crazy" one, thrust the door open.

Here Dave, on his way to the mirror, hairbrush and comb in hand, halted as though for the first time aware of the accusing presence of Bender, midshipman in charge of the floor for the day.

"Uh-hum!" choked Midshipman Bender more confused, even, than he had expected the others to be.

"Looks like rather good material, doesn't he, Bender?" inquired Mr. Trotter. "Green, of course, and yet—"

"I didn't come here to discuss Navy athletics," replied Midshipman Bender.

"Oh, an official visit—is that it?" asked shipman Hayes, favoring the official visitor with a baby-stare. "As it is past graduation, and there are no evening study hours, there is no regulation against visiting in the rooms of other members of the brigade."

"No," snapped Mr. Bender, "there is not."

Saying this the midshipman in charge turned on his heel and left the room.

An instant after the door had closed the lately scared youngsters expressed themselves by a broad grin, which deepened to a very decided chuckle as Mr. Bender's footsteps died away.

"Mister," cried Midshipman Trotter, favoring Darrin with a glance of frank friendliness, "do you know that you saved us from frapping the pap hard?"

"And that perhaps you've saved us from bilging?" added Midshipman Hayes.

"I'm such a greenhorn about the Navy, sir, that I am afraid I don't follow you in the least, sir," Darrin replied quietly.

Then they explained to him that the "pap" is the conduct report, and that "to frap" is to hit. To "frap the pap" means to "get stuck on" the conduct report for a breach of discipline. A "bilger" is one who is dropped from the service, or who is turned back to the class below.

"I judged that there was some trouble coming sir," Dave confessed, "and I did the best that I could. It was good luck on my part that I was able to be of service to you."

"Good luck, eh?" retorted Midshipman Trotter. "Third class men, fall in!"

As the "youngsters" lined up Mr. Trotter, standing at the right of the line, asked coaxingly:

"Mister, will you be condescending enough to pass down the line and shake hands with each of us?"

Flushing modestly, but grinning, Dave did as asked—or directed.

"Mister," continued Midshipman Trotter impressively, "we find ourselves very close to being 'spoons on' you."

For a youngster to be "spoons on" a new fourth classman means for the former to treat the latter very nearly as though he were a human being.

"Now, you green dandelions may go," suggested Mr. Trotter, turning to the four "visiting" plebes.

As soon as this had come about Trotter turned to Dave Darrin.

"Mister, we humble representatives of the third class are going to show you the only sign of appreciation within our power. We are going to invite you to stroll down the deck and visit us in our steerage. Your roommate is invited to join us."

Dave and Dan promptly accepted, with becoming appreciation. All of the youngsters escorted Dave and Dan down the corridor to Midshipman Trotter's room.

In the course of the next hour the youngsters told these new midshipmen much about the life at the Naval Academy that it would otherwise have taken the two plebes long to have found out for themselves.

They were initiated into much of the slang language that the older midshipmen use when conversing together. Many somewhat obscure points in the regulations were made clear to them.

Lest the reader may wonder why new fourth class men should tamely submit to hazing or "running," when the regulations of the Naval Academy expressly prohibit these upper class sports, it may be explained that the midshipmen of the brigade have their own internal discipline.

A new man may very easily evade being hazed, if he insists upon it.

His first refusals will be met with challenges to fight. If he continues to refuse to be "hazed" or "run," he will soon find himself ostracized by all of the upper class men. Then his own classmates will have to "cut" him, or they, too, will be "cut." The man who is "cut" may usually as well resign from the Naval Academy at once. His continued stay there will become impossible when no other midshipman will recognize him except in discharge of official duties.

The new man at Annapolis, if he has any sense at all, will quietly and cheerfully submit to being "run." This fate falls upon every new fourth class man, or nearly so. The only fourth class man who escapes bring "run" is the one who is considered as being beneath notice. Unhappy, indeed, is the plebe whom none of the youngsters above him will consent to haze. And frequent it happens that the most popular man in an upper class is one who, while in the fourth class, was the most unmercifully hazed.

Often a new man at the Naval Academy arrives with a firm resolution to resist all attempts at running or hazing. He considers himself as good as any of the upper class men, and is going to insist on uniformly good treatment from the upper class men.

If this be the new man's frame of mind he is set down as being "ratey."

But often the new man arrives with a conviction that he will have to submit to a certain amount of good-natured hazing by his class elders. Yet this man, from having been spoiled more or less at home, is "fresh." In this case he is called only "touge."

Hence it is a far more hopeful sign to be "touge" than to be "ratey."

The new man who honestly tries to be neither "touge" nor "ratey," and who has a sensible resolve to submit to tradition, is sometimes termed "almost sea-going."

Dave Darrin was promptly recognized as being "almost sea-going." He would need but little running.

Dan Dalzell, on the other hand, was soon listed as being "touge," though not "ratey."

V. INVITED TO JOIN THE "FRENCHERS"

Within the next few days several things happened that were of importance to the new fourth class men.

Other candidates arrived, passed the surgeons, and were sworn into Naval service.

Many of the young men who had passed the surgeons, and who had gone through the dreary, searching ordeals over in grim old Academic Hall, had now become members of the new fourth class.

As organized, the new fourth class started off with two hundred and twenty-four members—numerically a very respectable battalion.

At the outset, while supplied only with midshipmen's caps, and while awaiting the "building" of their uniforms, these new midshipmen were drilled by some of the members of the upper classes.

This state of affairs, however, lasted but very briefly. Graduation being past, the members of the three upper classes were rather promptly embarked on three of the most modern battleships of the Navy and sent to sea for the summer practice cruise.

The night before embarkation Midshipman Trotter looked in briefly upon Dave Darrin and his roommate.

"Well, mister," announced the youngster, with a paternal smile, "somehow you'll have to get on through the rest of the summer without us."

"It will be a time of slow learning for us, sir," responded Darrin, rising.

"Your summer will henceforth be restful, if not exactly instructive," smiled Trotter. "In the absence of personal guidance, mister, strive as far as you can to reach the goal of being sea going."

"I'll try, sir."

"You won't have such hard work as your roommate," went on Trotter, favoring Dalzell with a sidelong look. "And, now, one parting bit of advice, mister. Keep it at all times in mind that you must keep away from demoralizing association with the forty per cent."

Statistics show that about forty per cent of the men who enter the U.S. Naval Academy fail to get through, and are sent back into civil life. Hence the joy of keeping with the winning "sixty."

The next morning the members of the three upper classes had embarked aboard the three big battleships that lay at anchor in the Severn. It was not until two days afterwards that the battleships sailed, but the upper class men did not come ashore in the interval.

Soon after the delivery of uniforms to the new fourth class men began and continued rapidly.

Dave and Dan, having been among the first to have their measure taken, were among the earliest to receive their new Naval clothing.

A tremendously proud day it was for each new midshipman when he first surveyed himself, in uniform, in the mirror!

The regular summer course was now on in earnest for the new men.

On Mondays those belonging to the first and second divisions marched down to the seamanship building, there to get their first lessons in seamanship. This began at eight o'clock, lasting until 9.30. During the same period the men who belonged to the third and fourth divisions received instruction in discipline and ordnance. In the second period, from 10 to 11.30 the members of the first and second division attended instruction in discipline and ordnance while the members of the third and fourth divisions attended seamanship.

In the afternoon, from 3 to 4.45, the halves of the class alternated between seamanship and marine engineering.

All instruction proceeded with a rapidity that made the heads of most of these new midshipmen whirl! From 5 to 6 on the same afternoon the entire fourth class attended instruction in the art of swimming—and no midshipman hope to graduate unless he is a fairly expert swimmer!

Wednesday and Saturday afternoons were devoted to athletics and recreation.

A midshipman does not have his evenings for leisure. On the first five evenings of each week, while one half of the class went to the gymnasium, the other half indulged in singing drill in Recreation Hall.

"What's the idea of making operatic stars out of us?" grumbled Dan to his roommate on day.

"You always seem to get the wrong impression about everything, Danny boy," retorted Darrin, turning to his roommate with a quizzical smile. "The singing drill isn't given with a view to fitting you to sing in opera."

"What, then?" insisted Dan.

"You are learning to sing, my dear boy, so that, later on, you will be able to deliver your orders from a battleship's bridge in an agreeable voice."

"If my voice on the bridge is anything like the voice I develop in Recreation Hall," grimaced Dalzell, "it'll start a mutiny right then and there."

"Then you don't expect sailors of the Navy to stand for the kind of voice that is being developed in you in Recreation Hall?" laughed Darrin.

"Sailors are only human," grumbled Dalzell.

The rowing work, in the big ten-oared cutters proved one of the most interesting features of the busy summer life of the new men.

More than half of these fourth class midshipmen had been accustomed to rowing boats at home. The work at Annapolis, however, they found to be vastly different.

The cutter is a fearfully heavy boat. The long Naval oar is surprisingly full of avoirdupois weight. True, a midshipman has to handle but one oar, but it takes him many, many days to learn how to do that properly.

Yet, as August came and wore along, the midshipmen found themselves becoming decidedly skilful in the work of handling the heavy cutters, and in handling boats under sail.

Competitive work and racing were encouraged by the Navy officers who had charge of this instruction.

Each boat was under the direct command of a midshipman who served as crew captain, with thirteen other midshipmen under him as crew.

When the post of crew captain fell to Dan Dalzell he embarked his crew, gave the order to shove off and let fall oars, and got away in good style.

Then, leaning indolently back Dan grinned luxuriously.

"This is the post I'm cut out for," he murmured, so that stroke-oar heard him and grinned.

Yet, as "evil communications corrupt good manners," Dan's attitude was reflected in his crew of classmates. The cutter was manned badly at that moment.

"Mr. Dalzell!" rasped out the voice of Lieutenant Fenton, the instructor, from a near-by boat.

Dan straightened up as though shot. But the Navy officer's voice continued sternly:

"Sit up in a more seamanlike manner. Pay close attention to the work of your boat crew. Be alert for the best performance of duty in the boat that you command. For your inattention, and worse, of a moment ago, Mr. Dalzell, you will put yourself on the conduct report."

The next morning, at breakfast formation, Dan's name was read from the "pap." He had been given five demerits. This was below the gravity of his offense, but he had been let off lightly the first time.

"You've got to stick to duty, and keep it always in mind," Darrin admonished his chum. "I don't intend to turn preachy, Dan; but you'll surely discover that the man who lets his indolence or sense of fun get away with him is much better off out of the Naval Academy."

"Pooh! A lot of the fellows have frapped the pap," retorted Dalzell. "Demerits don't do any harm, unless you get enough of 'em to cause you to be dropped."

"Well, if there is no higher consideration," argued Dave, "at least you must remember that the number of demerits fixes your conduct grade. If you want such liberties and privileges as are allowed to new midshipmen, you'll have to keep your name away from the pap."

"Humph! Setting your course toward the grease mark are you?" jeered Dan.

"Think it over!" urged Dave Darrin patiently.

Before August was over the new fourth class men marched "like veterans." They had mastered all the work of drill, marching and parade, and felt that they could hold their own in the brigade when the upper class men returned.

On the 28th of August the three big battleships were sighted coming up the bay in squadron formation. A little more than an hour later they rode at anchor.

It was not, however, until the 30th of August that the upper classmen were disembarked.

August 31 was devoted to manifold duties, including the hurried packing of light baggage, for now the members of the three upper classes were to enjoy a month's leave of absence before the beginning of the academic year on October 1.

Then, like a whirlwind mob, and clad in their "cit." clothes, the upper class men got away on that hurried, frenzied leave.

There was no leave, however, for the new midshipmen.

In lieu of leave, through the month of September, the new fourth class men spent the time, each week-day, from ten o'clock until noon, at the "Dago Department," as the Department of Modern Languages is termed.

Here they made their start in French.

"When Trotter comes back," muttered Dan, "if he asks me whether I can talk French, I'll tell him that I've tried, and now I know I can't."

It was the last night before the upper classmen were due back from their leave.

Dave and Dan were in their room, poring hard over French, when a light tap sounded on the door.

Right on top of the tap Midshipman Farley, fourth class, entered on tiptoe, closing the door behind him.

This accomplished, Farley dropped his air of stealth, strolling over to the study desk.

"There's a nice little place in town—you know, Purdy's," began Farley significantly.

"I've heard of it as an eating place," responded Darrin.

"It's more than that," returned Farley, smacking his lips. "It's an ideal place for a banquet."

"I accept your word for it," smiled Dave.

"I don't ask you to, Darrin," grinned Farley. "Like any honest man I'm prepared to prove all I say. Purdy has received—by underground telegraph—orders to prepare a swell feast for eight. It's to be ready at eleven tonight. We had the eight all made up, but two fellows have flunked cold. We're to French it over the wall tonight, leaving here a few minutes after taps. Are you on?"

Farley's enthusiastic look fell upon the face of Dalzell.

"I'm on!" nodded Dan

"No; you're not" broke in Dave quietly.

"I'm afraid I must disagree with you, little David," murmured Dan.

"Oysters, clams, fish—watermelon!" tempted Midshipman Farley.

"Um-yum!" grunted Dan, his eyes rolling.

"Then you're with us, Dalzell?" insisted Farley.

"Well, rather—"

"—not!" interjected Dave Darrin with emphasis.

"Now, what are you butting in for, you greasy greaser?" demanded Farley, giving Dave a contemptuous glance. "Maybe you won't join us, and maybe we'd just as soon not have as greasy a midshipman as you at the festive board, but Dalzell isn't tied to your apron strings, are you, Dalzell?"

"No; he's not," replied Darrin, speaking for his chum. "Dalzell will speak for himself, if he insists. But he and I have been chums these many years, and we've often given each other good advice in trying or tempting times. Dalzell will go with you, if he cares to, for he already knows all that I have to say on the subject."

"You've had your nose stuck down deep in the grease-pot ever since you struck Annapolis!" cried Farley angrily. "I hope you bilge, Darrin; with all my heart I hope you bilge soon. We don't need a mollycoddle like you here in the Naval Academy!"

"Isn't that about all you want to say?" demanded Dave, looking up with a frown.

"No; it's not half what I have to say," cried Farley hotly. "Darrin, your kind of fellow is a disgrace to the Naval service! You're a sneak—that's what—"

"You may stop, right there!" frowned Darrin, rising from his chair.

"I'll stop when I'm proper ready!" retorted Farley hotly.

"If you don't stop right now, you'll finish while engaged in landing on your ear in the hall outside!" warned Dave, stepping forward.

There was a new look in Darrin's usually patient eyes. It was a look Farley hadn't seen there before, and it warned the hot-headed midshipman that he was in danger of going too far.

"Oh, fudge on you, Darrin!" jeered Farley, turning on his heel. "Going to be with us, Dalzell?

"No," replied Dan promptly. "I never travel with the enemies of my friends."

"Greasers, both of you!" flung back the caller, and left them.

"If that fellow had talked an hour longer I believe I might have lost my patience," smiled Darrin, as he turned back to his desk. "But I'm glad you're not with that outfit tonight Danny boy. It may turn out a big scrape."

"Why should it turn out a big scrape." demanded Dan.

"Oh, you never can tell," replied Darrin, as he picked up his book.

Farley did not succeed in getting two more midshipmen to join in the Frenching. Twenty minutes after taps, however, the original six of the fourth class slipped out of Bancroft Hall.

Slyly they made their way to where they had a board hidden near the wall of the Academy grounds.

One at a time, and swiftly, they went up this board, and over the wall.

At Purdy's they found a meal to tempt the most whimsical appetite. The meal over they spent much time in singing and story-telling.

It was nearly two in the morning when Farley and his fellow feasters tried to get back into the grounds, over the wall.

They got over the wall, all right, but only to fall into the hands of one of the watchmen, who seemed to have known exactly where to expect their return.

All six were reported to the officer in charge. At breakfast formation Midshipmen Farley, Oates, Scully, Brimmer, Henkel and Page were assigned fifty demerits each for unauthorized absence during the night.

Farley and his friends were furious. More, they were talkative.

Had Dave Darrin been less occupied that day he would have noted that many of his classmates avoided him.

Dan did notice, and wondered, without speaking of the matter.

That day all the upper class men returned, and Bancroft Hall hummed for a while with the bustle of the returning hundreds.

Just before the dinner formation Youngster Trotter encountered Dave in the corridor.

"Hullo, mister!" was Trotter's greeting, and the youngster actually held out his hand.

"I hope you had a mighty pleasant leave, sir," replied Dave, returning the handclasp.

"Passably pleasant, passably, mister," returned Midshipman Trotter. "But see here, mister, what's this about you and your class that I've heard?

"Nothing, so far as I know, sir," replied Dave, scanning the youngster's face closely.

"It must be more than nothing," returned Trotter. "I understand that more than half of your class are furious with you over something that happened last night. I've heard you called a sneak, mister, though I don't believe that for a single minute. But I've heard mutterings to the effect that your class will send you to coventry for excessive zeal in greasing, to the detriment of your classmates. What about it all, mister?"

Dave Darrin gazed at the youngster with eyes full of wonder.

"What about it?" repeated Dave. "That's the very thing I'd like to know, sir, for this is the very first word I've heard of it."

Nor could Midshipman Trotter doubt that Dave Darrin had answered in all sincerity.

"Well, you certainly must be innocent, mister, if you're as puzzled as all this," replied the youngster. "Then it must be that malicious mischief is brewing against you in some quarter. Take my advice, mister, and find out what it all means."

"Thank you. I most certainly will, sir," replied Dave, his eyes flashing.

VI. DAVE PASSES THE LIE

Dalzell looked up wonderingly as Darrin marched swiftly into their room.

"Danny boy, have you heard any talk against me today?" demanded Dave.

"Do I look as though I had been fighting?" queried Dan promptly.

"I've just heard, from Trotter, that a good many of the fellows in our class are scorching me, and talking of sending me to coventry. Will you—"

"I sure will," broke in Dan, dropping his book, rising and snatching at his cap. "I'll be back as soon as I've heard something, or have settled with the fellow who says it."

Dan was out of the room like a flash.

Dave sat down heavily in his chair, his brow wrinkling as he tried to imagine what it all meant.

"It must all be a mistake that Trotter has made," argued Dave with himself. "Of course, Trotter might be stringing me, but I don't believe he would do that. Now, to be sure, I came near to having words with Farley last night, but that wouldn't be the basis for any action by the fourth class. That, if anything, would be wholly a personal matter. Then what am I accused of doing? It must be some fierce sort of lie when the fellows talk of taking it up as a class matter."

For ten minutes more Dave puzzled and pondered over the problem. Then the door flew open and Dan bolted hastily in.

"You haven't been hitting anyone have you? asked Dave, noticing the flushed, angry face of his chum.

"No! But one of us will have to do some hitting soon," burst hotly from Dalzell.

"It'll be my hit, then, I guess," smiled Dave wearily. "Have you found out—"

"Dave it's the most absurd sort of lie! You know that Farley and his little crowd got caught last night, when they returned from their Frenching party over the wall?"

"Frenching" is taking unauthorized leave from the academic limits by going over the wall, instead of through the gate.

"Yes; I know Farley and his friends got caught," rejoined Darrin. "But what has that to do with me?

"Farley and his friends are sore—"

"They ought not to be," said Darrin quietly. "They took the chance, and now they ought to be ready to pay up like good sportsmen."

"Dave, they say you informed on them, and got them caught!"

"What?" shouted Darrin, leaping to his feet. His face was deathly white and the corners of his mouth twitched.

He took two bounding steps toward the door, but Dalzell threw himself in his chum's way.

"Not just this minute, Dave!" ordered Dan firmly. "We don't want any manslaughter here—not even of the 'justifiable' kind! Sit and wait until you've cooled off—some. When you go out I'm going with you—whether it's out into the corridor, or out of the Naval Academy for good. Sit down, now! Try to talk it over coolly, and get yourself into a frame of mind where you can talk with others without prejudicing your case."

"My case?" repeated Dave bitterly, as he allowed Dan to force him back into his chair. "I haven't any case. I haven't done anything."

"I know that, but you've got to get cool, and stay so, if you want to make sure that others have a chance to know it," warned Dan.

"Does Farley say that I sneaked in information against him?"

"Farley and the others are so sore over their demerits that they believe almost anything, now, and they say almost anything. Of course, Farley remembers the row he had with you last night. In a fool way he puts two and two together, an decides that you helped set the trap for them."

"If I had done a dirty thing like that, then I'd deserve to be cut by the whole brigade," retorted Dave, his face flushing.

"But I want to tell you, right now, Dave, that some of the fellows of our class know you too well to believe any such thing against you."

"I'm properly grateful to the few, then," retorted Darrin, his eyes softening a trifle. "But come along, Dan, if you will. I mean to start in at once to sift this thing down."

"Let me look at you," ordered Dalzell, grappling with his chum, and looking him over.

Then, a moment later, Dan added:

"Yes; you're cool enough, I think. I'll go with you. But remember that the easiest way to destroy yourself is to let your temper get on top. If anybody is to get mad before the crowd, let me do it. Then you can restrain me if I get too violent."

Dave Darrin took his uniform cap down from the nail and put it on with great deliberation. Next, he picked up his whisk broom, flecking off two or three imaginary specks of dust.

"Now, I guess we can go along, Danny boy," he remarked, in a tone of ominous quietness.

"Where are you headed?" murmured Dalzell, as they reached the room door.

"To Farley's room," answered Dave Darrin coolly. "Do you suppose he's there?"

"He was, a few moments ago" Dan answered.

"Then let us hope he is now."

Carrying himself with his most erect and military air, Darrin stepped down the corridor, Dalzell keeping exactly at his side.

The chums arrived before the door of the room in which Farley was lodged.

Dave raised his hand, sounding a light knock on the door, which he next pushed open.

Farley and a dozen other members of the fourth class were in the room. Moreover, it was evident instantly that some of those present were discussing the burning class issue.

"But are you sure he did it? Farley?" one midshipman inquired, as the chums entered.

"Sure?" repeated Farley. "Of course I am! Didn't I tell you what a hot row we had. Darrin—"

"I'm here to speak for myself, Farley," boomed in the quiet, steady voice of Dave Darrin. "But I'll hear you first, if you wish."

"Oh, you're here, are you?" cried Farley hotly, wheeling about on the visitors.

Some of the other fourth class men present turned and glanced coldly at the two last-comers. Others looked on with eager curiosity.

"I've heard," announced Darrin, "that you are saying some things about me that don't sound well. So I've come to ask you what you are saying."

"I won't keep you waiting," jeered Farley. "You know, from hearing morning orders, that six of us were given fifty demerits apiece."

"For going over the wall to a late supper in town," nodded Dave.

"You wouldn't go with us," continued Farley angrily, "and gave us a greaser's talk-fest instead."

"I didn't advise you against going," responded Dave, standing with his arms folded, utterly cool as he eyed his accuser.

"Then, after we went, some one went and wised the powers," charged Farley. "Now, no one but a most abandoned greaser would do that."

To "wise the powers" is to give information to the Naval officers.

"The fellow who would wilfully tell on you would be worse than what you term a greaser," agreed Dave.

"Careful," warned Farley ironically. "You know who told, or who caused the wise word to leak to the powers."

"I don't," Dave denied bluntly.

"You're the sneak, yourself!" cried Farley angrily.

"I am not," spoke Dave, with clear denial.

"Do you mean to say I lie?" demanded Midshipman Farley threateningly, as he took a step forward.

"Do you deliberately state that I informed upon you, or caused you to be informed upon?" demanded Dave Darrin.

"Yes, I do!

"Then you lie!" returned Darrin promptly.

With a suppressed yell Farley sprang at Darrin, and the latter struck out quickly.

VII. ON THE FIELD OF THE CODE

Midshipman Farley had the bad judgment to stop that blow with the side of his neck.

Across the room he spun, going down in a heap, his head under the study table.

Dave Darrin looked on with a cool smile, while Farley lay there for an instant, then scrambled out and up onto his feet.

But two or three other new midshipmen sprang in between Dave and his accuser.

"We can't have a fight here, Farley," urged two or three in the same breath.

"Let me at the sneak!" sputtered Farley who was boiling over with rage.

"Yes; let him at me," voiced Dave coolly, "and I'll send him into the middle of next term!"

But three of the midshipmen clung to Farley, who furiously strove to fling them off.

"Let me at him!" insisted the accuser. "He struck me."

"You struck at him first, and didn't land," replied one of the peacemakers. "You go on with a fight here, and you'll bring the officer in charge down on us all. Farley, if you feel you've a grievance you are privileged to take recourse to the regular code in such matters."

"The fellow has lied about me, and I'm ready to settle it with him now, or outside by appointment," broke in Dave, speaking as coolly as before.

"He calls me 'fellow' and 'liar,'" panted Farley, turning white. "Do you think I can stand that?

"You don't have to," replied one of those who held Farley back. "Send Darrin a challenge, in the regular way."

"I will!" panted Midshipman Farley. "And I'll hammer him all over and out of the meeting-place!"

"Then it's settled for a challenge," interposed Dan Dalzell. "That will suit us all right. We'll be ready whenever the challenge comes. And now, to prevent getting a lot of decent fellows into a needless scrape, Darrin and I will withdraw."

Dan took Dave by the arm, and both turned to leave the room.

"You—" began Farley hoarsely, when another midshipman clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Shut up Farley! Save all of your undoubted grit for the field, when you two meet."

The door closed softly behind Darrin and Dalzell.

"Why didn't you let me at the sneak?" bellowed Farley, released, now, from interfering hands.

"See here, Farley," advised one of his friends, "cool down and keep your face in a restful attitude. Darrin behaved twice as well as you did. If you don't look out you'll lose the sympathy of the class. Just keep cool, and restrain your tongue from wagging until you've met Darrin. Don't try to start the row again, this side of the field where you meet. If you do, you'll get many a cold shoulder."

Other midshipmen present spoke in the same vein. Farley, who wanted to be popular at all times, presently allowed himself to be advised.

Of course the news of the meeting, and of the more emphatic one to come spread fast through Bancroft Hall. There is an unknown wireless that carries all such news on wings through the brigade of midshipmen.

Within half an hour Henkel and Page brought the challenge to Dave Darrin. Dan, in the meantime, had been busy, and had induced Midshipman Rollins, of the fourth class, to act with him as second. Rollins, indeed, needed little urging. He was eager to see the fight.

Tyson, of the second class, was secured as referee, while Trotter, of the third class, gladly agreed to act as time-keeper.

The time was set for an hour before taps, as, on this evening, it would be easy for all the young men involved to slip away and be back in time for taps.

"I won't let the thing run over two rounds," promised Farley, who had an excellent idea of himself as a fighter.

That afternoon Dave and Farley were obliged to pass each other. Dave did not even seem to know that his enemy was around. Farley, on the other hand, glared ferociously at Darrin as he passed.

Midshipman Trotter certainly would have come around to offer Dave friendly counsel, had not his position as one of the officials of the fight restrained him.

Dave, by his prompt action, had veered many of his classmates around to his side. The bulk of opinion in the class, however, was that Farley would make good in his boasts of victory. He was a heavily-built yet very active young man, who had shown great promise in boxing bouts in the gymnasium.

At half-past eight that evening, while scores of cadets strolled through the grounds, thinking of the academic term to begin on the morrow, some little groups made their way more directly across the grounds. Many interested glances followed them.

Over in the direction of the Old Government Hospital stepped Dave, accompanied by Dan and Rollins.

They were the first to arrive, though a few minutes later Midshipmen Tyson and Trotter appeared.

"Farley doesn't seem in as a big hurry as he was," remarked Dan Dalzell laughingly.

It was not, in fact, until close to the time that Farley, Henkel and Page came on the scene.

"We want to put this mill through briskly, gentlemen," announced Midshipman Tyson, in a low tone. "Both principals will be good enough to get ready as rapidly as possible."

Dave Darrin had been only awaiting the order. Now he took off his cap and uniform blouse, handing them to Dan, who folded the coat and laid it on the ground, placing the cap on top of it.

By this time Darrin had pulled his shirt over his head. Dan took that also, while Rollins produced a belt which Dave strapped about his waist with care.

Then he stepped forward, like a young war horse, sniffing the battle.

Farley was more leisurely in his preparations, though he did not appear nervous. In fact, Farley wasn't a bit nervous. But he meant "wind up" the fight in such short order that there would be an abundance of time to spare.

"There's no use in giving you any advice, old fellow," murmured Dan. "You've been in too many fights, back in the good old High School days of Dick & Co."

"I can handle myself," nodded Dave, "unless Farley proves to be a veritable wonder."

"He certainly thinks he is," warned Rollins. "And a good many of the fellows believe Farley to be the best man of the class in this line of work."

"They won't think so much longer," returned Dan, as simply as though merely stating a proved fact. "You see, Rollins, you never had the great good luck to get your kid training with Dick & Co. Our old crowd always went in to win just because we were blind to the idea that there was any possible chance of losing."

"Did you always make good?" asked Rollins curiously.

"Just about always, I reckon," nodded Dan confidently.

"You must have been a wonder-bunch then," smiled Rollins.

Farley was ready, now, and coming forward with a second on either side of him.

"Step in Dave old fellow." directed Dan.

Dave came forward to where Midshipman Tyson awaited them.

"Gentlemen," announced the referee, "this is to be a fight to the finish, bare hands. As time is short you are urged to mix it up briskly to a conclusion. The usual ring rules will guide the officials of this meeting. Hand-shaking will dispensed with. Are you ready?"

"Ready!" hissed Farley venomously.

"Ready," nodded Dave coolly.

"Time!"

With a yell Farley leaped in. He didn't want it to last more than one round, if it could be helped.

The fury of his assault drove the lighter Darrin back. Farley followed up with more sledge-hammers. He was certainly a dangerous man, with a hurricane style. He was fast and heavy, calculated to bear down a lighter opponent.

Before that assortment of blows Dave Darrin was forced to resort to footwork.

"Stand up and fight!" jeered Farley harshly as he wheeled and wheeled, still throwing out his hammer blows. "Don't play sneak on the field!"

Dave didn't even flush. Trained with Dick Prescott at Gridley High School, Darrin was too old a hand to be taunted into indiscretion.

In spite of his footwork, however, Farley succeeded in landing upon him twice, though neither blow did much damage.

Then a third blow landed, against the side of Darrin's head, that jarred him. It was all he could do to stand off Farley until he recovered his wits enough to dodge once more.

Yet, all the while, Darrin was watching his chance.

VIII. THE MAN WHO WON

"This isn't a sprint!" yelled Farley, in high disgust. "Come back here!" Dave did come back.

Wheeling suddenly, he struck his right arm up under Farley's now loose guard.

In the same fraction of a second Dave let fly with his left.

Smack!

It wasn't such a very hard blow—but it landed on the tip of Farley's nose.

With a yell of rage Farley made a dive at his lighter opponent.

"Time!"

In his rage Farley tried to strike after that call, but Dave bounded to one side.

Then, turning his back, Darrin walked away to where Dan and Midshipman Rollins awaited him.

"Be careful, Mister Farley," warned Second Class Man Tyson, striding over to him. "You struck out after the call of time. Had the blow landed I would have been compelled under the rules to award Darrin the fight on a foul."

"First blood for our side!" cheered Dan, as he sprang at Dave with a towel.

In a few moments the young man had been well rubbed down, and now Dan and Rollins, on opposite sides, were kneading his muscles.

From over in Farley's corner came a growl:

"I came here to fight, not to go in for track work. That fellow can't fight."

"Queer!" remarked Dan cheerfully. "We hold all the honors so far."

Quickly enough the call of time came.

Farley, the flow of blood from his nose stanched, came back as full of steam as before.

Dave's footwork was as nimble as ever. Speed and skill in dodging were features of Darrin's fighting style.

Yet Farley caught him, with a blow on the chest that sent him to his knees.

Like a flash, however, Darrin was upon his feet, and Farley lunged at him swiftly and heavily.

In the very act of reaching his feet, however, Dave Darrin leaped lightly to the left.

With an exclamation of disgust Farley turned and swung again.

But Dave dropped down, then shot up under his opponent's guard once more.

Biff!

This time an exclamation of real pain came from Farley, for the blow had landed solidly on his left eye, just about closing it.

A second time Darrin might have landed, but he was taking no chances under a steam-roller like Farley.

As Dave danced away, however, followed up by his opponent, bellowing from the sudden jolt his eye had received, he saw that Farley was fighting almost blindly.

Dan Dalzell now jumped in as close as he had any right to be. He wanted to see what would happen next.

Nor was he kept long guessing, for Dave had slipped around on the blind side of his opponent.

"Confound you! Can't you stand up and fight square?" demanded Farley harshly.

Dave flushed, this time. Dodging two of Farley's blows he next moved as though about to retreat.

Instead, however, Darrin leaped up and forward.

Pound! Dave's hard left fist landed crushingly near the point of Farley's jaw.

Down went the larger man, while his seconds rushed to him.

Midshipman Trotter, watch in hand, began calling off the seconds.

Steadily he counted them, until he came to "—eight, nine, ten!"

Still Farley lay on the ground, his good eye, as well as his damaged one, closed.

If he was breathing it was so slightly that his seconds, not permitted under the rules to go close, could not detect the movements of respiration.

"He loses the count," announced Second Class Man Tyson, in businesslike tones. "I award the fight to Mister Darrin."

Always the ceremonious "mister" with which upper class men refer to new fourth class men. It is not until the plebe becomes a "youngster" that the "mister" is dropped for the more friendly social address.

Farley's seconds were kneeling at his side now.

"Can you bring him out easily?" asked Midshipman Tyson, going over to the defeated man's seconds.

"He's pretty soundly asleep, just now," put in Midshipman Trotter. "My, but that was a fearful crack you gave your man, mister!"

"I'm sorry if I have had to hurt him much," replied Dave coolly. "I am not keen for fighting."

Dan and Rollins offered their services in helping to bring Farley to, only to met by a curt refusal from Midshipman Henkel.

So Dave and his seconds stood mutely by, at a distance, while the two officials in the late fight added their efforts to those of the seconds of the knocked-out man.

At last they brought a sigh from Farley's lips.

Soon after the defeated midshipman opened his eyes.

"Is—Darrin—dead?" he asked slowly, with a bewildered look.

Midshipman Trotter chuckled.

"Not so you could notice it, mister. But you surely had a close call. Do you want to try to sit up?"

This Farley soon concluded to do. Then his seconds dressed him.

"Now, see if you can stand on your feet," urged Midshipman Tyson.

By this time Farley's wits had returned sufficiently for him to have a very fair idea of what had passed.

Aided by Henkel and Page Midshipman Farley got to his feet. There he stood, dizzily, until his late seconds gave him stronger support. "You can't go back to Bancroft while you are in this condition, mister," hinted Tyson decidedly. "You'll have to pass in review before one of our medical gentlemen, and do whatever he deems best."

"Dan," murmured Dave, "go over and ask Farley whether he cares to shake hands."

Dan crossed in quest of the information.

"Never!" growled Farley, with a hissing intake of breath.

"It's a shame to have bad blood after the fight is over," muttered Tyson rebukingly.

"I don't want anything to do with that fellow until we meet again," growled Farley.

"Great Scott, mister! You don't think of calling Mister Darrin out again, do you?" demanded Tyson, with a gasp.

"Yes; if he can be made to fight fair!" snarled Farley.

"He fought fairly this time, mister," replied Second Class Man Tyson, almost with heat. "You're a fast, heavy and hard scrapper for your age, mister, but the other man simply out-pointed you all through the game. If you call him out again, and he meets you, he can kill you if he sees fit."

"Misters," directed Midshipman Trotter, addressing Henkel and Page, "you'd better hurry to get your man over to a surgeon if you want to be in your rooms at lights-out time."

As Page and Henkel started away with their unfortunate comrade, Dave approached Tyson.

"Sir, do you believe that I fought with entire fairness?" asked Darrin of the referee.

"Fair? Of course you did, mister," replied Tyson. "Come along, Trotter."

Dave, who had dressed some time before, now turned with Dan and Rollins and started back. They took pains not to be seen close to the upper class men.

"Who won?" demanded a fourth class man, curiously, as they neared Bancroft Hall.

"Farley will tell you tomorrow if he's able," grinned Dan.

When taps sounded on the bugle, that evening, all of the midshipmen, save Farley, were in their rooms.

Promptly as the last note of taps broke on the air the last of the midshipmen was in bed, and the electric light was turned off from a master switch. The inspection of rooms was on.

IX. DAN JUST CAN'T HELP BEING "TOUGE"

Fourth Class Man Farley did not put in an appearance at breakfast formation in the morning.

As this was the opening day of the first term of the academic year it was a bad time to be "docked for repairs" at the hospital.

Merely reading over the list of the fourth class studies did not convey to the new men much idea of how hard they were to find their work.

In the department of Marine Engineering and Naval Construction there were lessons in mechanical drawing.

No excuse is made for a midshipman's natural lack of ability in drawing. He must draw satisfactorily if he is to hope to pass.

In mathematics the new man had to recite in algebra, logarithms and geometry.

In addition to the foregoing, during the first term, the new midshipman had courses in English and in French.

As at West Point, the mathematics is the stumbling block of the new man at Annapolis.

In the first term algebra, logarithms and geometry had to be finished, for in the second term trigonometry was the subject in mathematics.

Shortly before eight in the morning the bugle call sounded for the first period of recitation.

The midshipmen fell in by classes in front of Bancroft Hall. After muster the classes marched away by sections.

Each section contained an average of ten men, under command of one of their number, who was known as the section leader.

It was the section leader's duty to march his section to the proper recitation room in Academic Hall, to preserve discipline while marching, and to report his section to the instructor.

At the beginning of the academic year the fourth class men were divided into sections in alphabetical order. Afterwards the sections would be reorganized according to order of merit.

So, at the outset, Darrin and Dalzell were in the same section, and Dave, as it happened, had been appointed section leader.

When the command rang out Dave marched away with his section, feeling somewhat proud that he had attained even to so small a degree of command.

It was an interesting sight to see hundreds of midshipmen, split up into so many sections, marching across the grounds in so many different directions, for not all the sections were headed for Academic Hall.

Dave knew the number of the room to which his section was bound, and knew also the location of the room.

Sections march, in step, at a brisk gait, the clicking of so many heels against the pavements making a rhythmic, inspiring sound.

Some of the midshipmen in Dave's section however, felt low-spirited that morning. They had been looking through their text-books, and felt a dread that they would not be able to keep up the stiff pace of learning long enough to get past the semi-annual examinations in the coming January.

Dave and Dan, however, both felt in good spirits. They had looked through the first lessons in algebra, and felt that they would not have much trouble at the outset, anyway. They believed that they had been well grounded back in their High School days.

On their way Darrin's section was passed by three officers of the Navy. Midshipmen must always salute officers of the Navy. While marching in sections, however, the only midshipman who salutes is the section leader.

Three times Dave's hand came smartly up to the visor of his cap in salute, while the other men in his section looked straight ahead.

Reaching Academic Hall Dave marched his section mates into the recitation room.

Lieutenant Bradshaw, the instructor, was already present, standing by his desk.

Darrin saluted the lieutenant as soon as he had halted the section.

"Sir, I report all members of the section present."

Five of the midshipmen were directed by Lieutenant Bradshaw to go to their seats. The rest were ordered to blackboards, Dave and Dan among the latter number.

Those at the blackboards were each given a problem to lay out on the blackboard. Then the instructor turned to the fourth class men who remained in their seats.

These he questioned, in turn, on various aspects of the day's lesson.

All the time the midshipmen at the blackboard worked busily away, each blocking out phase after phase of his problem.

Dave Darrin was first to finish. He turned his back to the board, taking the position of parade rest.

Dan was third to finish.

"Mr. Darrin, you may explain your work," announced Lieutenant Bradshaw.

This Dave did, slowly, carefully, though without painful hesitation. When he had finished the instructor asked him several questions about the problem, and about some other phases of the day's work. Darrin did not jump at any of his answers, but made them thoughtfully.

"Very good, indeed, Mr. Darrin," commented the instructor. "But, when you are more accustomed to reciting here, I shall hope for a little more speed in answering."

As Dave was returning to his seat Lieutenant Bradshaw marked him 3.8 per cent on the day's work.

That was an excellent marking, 4 being the highest. The lowest average in a study which a midshipman may have, and hold his place in the Naval Academy, is 2.5. Anything below 2.5 is unsatisfactory, which, in midshipman parlance is "unsat." Taking 4 to represent 100 per cent., 2.5 stands for 62.5 per cent. This would not be a high average to expect, as courses are laid down in the average High School of the land; but as most of our American High Schools go 2.5 at Annapolis is at least as good a marking as 90 per cent would be in a High School.

"Good old Dave leaks too slow at the spout, does he?" chuckled Dan to himself, as he waited at parade rest. "When it comes my turn, then, as I happen to know my problem as well as the fellow who wrote the book, I'll rattle off my explanation at a gait that will force the lieutenant to stand on his feet to hear all I say."

Dalzell was the fourth man called upon at the blackboard.

Taking a deep breath, and assuming a tremendously earnest look, Dan plunged into the demonstration of his problem as fast as he could fire the words out.

Lieutenant Bradshaw, however, listened through to the end.

"Your demonstration is correct, Mr Dalzell," said the instructor quietly. "However while speed in recitation is of value, in the future try to speak just a little more slowly and much more distinctly. You are fitting yourself to become a Naval officer one of these days. On shipboard it is of the utmost importance that an officer's voice be always distinct and clear, in order that every word he utters may be instantly understood. Try to keep this always in mind, Mr. Dalzell, and cultivate the habit of speaking distinctly."

The rebuke was a very quiet one, and courteously given. But Dan, who knew that every other man in the section was grinning in secret over his discomfiture, was quickly losing his nerve.

Then, without favor, Lieutenant Bradshaw questioned Dan searchingly on other details of the day's work. Dan stammered, and forgot much that he had thought he knew.

Lieutenant Bradshaw set down a mark of 2.9, whereas Dalzell, had he stuck sensibly to the business in hand, would have been marked as high as Dave had been.

As the section was marching back to Bancroft Dan whispered:

"Dave, did you hear the old owl go 'too-whoo' at me in the section room?"

"Stop talking in section!" ordered Dave crisply.

"Blazes! There isn't a single spot at Annapolis where a fellow can take a chance on being funny!" muttered Dalzell under his breath.

"Dave, old chum," cried Dan tossing his cap on the bed as they entered their room. "Are you going to turn greaser, and stay greaser?"

"What do you mean?" asked Darrin quietly.

"You told me to shut up in the ranks."

"That was right, wasn't it? I am under orders to see that there is no talking in the section when marching."

"Not even a solitary, teeny little word, eh?"

"Not if I can stop it," replied Dave.

"And what if you can't stop it?"

"Then I am obliged to direct the offender to put himself on the report."

"Great Scott! Would you tell your chum to frap the pap for a little thing like that, and take demerits unto himself?"

"If I had to," nodded Dave. "You see, Dan, we're here trying to learn to be Naval officers and to hold command. Now, it's my belief that a man who can't take orders, and stick to them, isn't fit to give orders at any period in his life."

"This sort of thing is getting on my nerves a bit," grumbled Dan. "Just think of all the freedom we had in the good old days back at Gridley!"

"This is a new life, Dan—a different one and a better one."

"Maybe," half assented Dalzell, who was beginning to accumulate the elements of a "grouch."

"Dan," asked Darrin, as he seated himself at his desk and opened a book preparatory to a long bit of hard study, "don't you know that your bed isn't the regulation place to hang your cap?"

"Oh, hang the cap, and the regulations, too!" grumbled Dalzell. "I'm beginning to feel that I've got to break through at some point."

"Pick up your cap, and put it on its hook—do," begged Darrin coaxingly.

At the same time he looked us with a smile which showed that he thought his friend was acting in a very juvenile manner.

Something impelled Dan to comply with his chum's request. Then, after hanging the cap, with great care, on its nail, the disgruntled one slipped to the study table and picked up a book.

Just as he did so there came a knock on the door.

Then Lieutenant Stapleton, in white gloves and wearing his sword, stepped into the room, followed by a midshipman, also white-gloved.

Lieutenant Stapleton was the officer in charge, the young man the midshipman in charge of the floor.

"Good morning, gentlemen," said the Lieutenant pleasantly, as both midshipmen promptly rose to their feet and stood at attention. Dave and Dan remained standing at attention while the lieutenant stepped quickly about the room, taking in everything with a practiced glance.

"Everything in order," commented the lieutenant, as he turned to the door. "Resume your work, gentlemen."

"Maybe you're glad you hung your cap up just in time," grinned Dave.

"Oh, bother the whole scheme!" grunted Dan "The idea of a fellow having to be a jumping-jack all the time!"

"A midshipman has to be a jumping-jack, I reckon," replied Dave, "until he learns to be a man and to live up to discipline as only a man can."

"See here, do you mean to say—"

"Go on with your study of English, unless you're sure you know all the fine points of the language," interrupted Darrin. "I know I don't and I want time to study."

Dan gazed steadily at his chum, but Darrin seemed too deeply absorbed in his work to be conscious of the gaze.

On the whole studies and recitations passed off rather pleasantly for both chums that day, though both could see that there were breakers ahead.

After supper a few minutes were allowed for recreation, which consisted mostly of an opportunity for the midshipmen to chat with each other. Then came the call that sent them to their rooms to study for two solid hours.

"I wish the powers that be would let us sit up an hour later," sighed Dave, looking up from his book in the middle of the study period.

"I'd rather they'd let us sleep an hour later in the morning," grumbled Dan.

"But, really, it would be great to have chance to study an hour more each evening," insisted Dave.

"Huh!"

"Yes; I begin to feel that we're going to need more study time than we get, if we're ever to pass."

At 9.30 the release bell rang. Dan closed his book with a joyful bang, Darrin closing his much more reluctantly.

"I'm going visiting," declared Dalzell, starting toward the door.

Before he could reach the door, however, there sounded a slight knock and two midshipmen of the third class stepped in.

"Mister, what's your name?" demanded one of the visitors.

"Dalzell, sir," replied Dan, standing at attention.

"What's yours, mister?

"Darrin, sir."

"Stand on your head, mister."

Dave obeyed with good-natured speed.

"That will do, mister. Now, on your head, mister."

Dan made a grimace, but obeyed.

Then the other visitor demanded:

"Do either of you fourth class men intend to try to be ratey?"

"No, sir," replied Darrin promptly.

"Do you, mister?" turning to Dalzell.

"No, sir."

"Are you both a bit touge?" asked the youngster questioner.

"I hope not, sir," replied Dave.

"Do you feel that way, mister?"—looking at Dan.

"What way, sir?"

"Do you feel inclined to be touge, mister?"

"I'm willing to be anything that's agreeable, and not too much work, sir," replied Dan, grinning.

It is offensive for a fourth class man to grin in the presence of an upper class man.

Moreover, two other youngsters had just stepped into the room to watch proceedings.

"Mister," commanded the youngster whom Dan had answered, "wipe that grin off your face."

Dalzell drew out his handkerchief, making several elaborate passes across his countenance with it.

"Touge!" growled his inquisitor.

"Very touge, indeed," assented the other three youngsters.

"Why did you bring out your handkerchief, mister?"

"Just obeying orders," replied Dan, with another grin.

"Wipe that grin off your face, sir!—no, not with your handkerchief!"

So Dalzell thrust the handkerchief away and applied his blouse sleeve to his face.

"Stop that, mister!

"Yes, sir," replied Dalzell meekly.

"Don't you know how to wipe a grin off your face?"

"I'm not sure, sir," Dan admitted.

"Mister, you are wholly touge! I'm not sure but that you're a ratey plebe as well."

Thereupon Youngster Quimby plunged into a scathing lecture on the subject of a plebe being either touge or ratey. At first Dan listened with a becoming air of respect. Before long, however, a huge grin began to illumine Dalzell's face.

"Wipe that grin off, mister!" commanded Mr. Quimby sternly.

"I—I simply can't!" gasped Dan, then began to roar with laughter.

"Why can't you?" insisted Quimby. "What's the matter?

"It's—it's your face!" choked Dan.

"My face?" repeated Quimby, reddening "What do you mean, sir?"

"I—I—it would be a shame to tell you!" sputtered Dalzell between spasms of laughter.

Truth to tell, Midshipman Quimby did look funny when he attempted to be over-stern. Quimby's face was one of his sensitive points, anyway. Yet it was not, strictly speaking, the face, but the look of precocious authority on that face which had sent Dan, with his keen sense of humor, off into spasms of laughter. But the youngster didn't propose to see the point.

"Mister," spoke Midshipman Quimby, with an added sternness of look that sent Dan off into another guffaw, "you have been guilty of insulting an upper class man. Your offense has been so serious—so rank—that I won't accept an apology. You shall fight, mister!"

"When? Whom?" asked Dan, the big grin still on his face.

"Me, mister—and as soon as the thing can be pulled off."

"Oh, all right, sir," nodded Dalzell. "Any time you like, then, sir. I've been accustomed, before coming here, to getting most of my exercise out of fighting. But—pardon me, if I meet, I shall have to hit—pardon me—that face."

"Call this plebe out, Quimby, and trim him in good shape," urged one of the other youngsters present. "He's touge all the way through. He'll need trimming."

"And he'll get it, too," wrathfully promised Midshipman Quimby, who was rated high as a fighter at the Naval Academy.

X. "JUST FOR EXERCISE"

"Now, then, mister, keep your eyes on my humorous face!"

It was the next evening, over behind the old government hospital.

Midshipman Quimby had just stepped forward, from the hands of his seconds, two men of the third class.

"I can't keep my eyes away from that face, and my hands are aching to follow the same route, sir," grimaced Dalzell.

He, too, had just stepped forward from the preliminary care of Dave and of Rollins, for that latter fourth class man was as anxious to see this fight as he had been the other one.

"Stop your talk, mister," commanded Midshipman Ferris, of the second class, who was present to officiate as referee. "On the field you talk with your hands. Don't be touge all the time, or you'll soon have a long fight calendar."

"Very good, sir," nodded Dan, his manner suddenly most respectful—as far as appearance went.

Dave Darrin did not by any means approve his chum's conduct of the night before, but Dave was on hand as second, just the same, and earnestly hoping that Dan might get at least his share of the honors in the event that was now to be "pulled off."

"Gentlemen," began Mr. Ferris, in the monotonous way of referees, "this fight is to be to a finish, without gloves. Hand-shaking will be dispensed with. Are you ready?"

"Ready!" assented both.

"Time!"

Both men advanced warily.

Quimby knew well enough that he could whip the plebe, but he didn't intend to let Dalzell get in any blows that could be guarded against.

Both men danced about until Mr. Ferris broke in, rather impatiently:

"Stop eating chocolates and mix it up!"

"Like this, sir?" questioned Dan. Darting in, on a feint, he followed Quimby's block with a blow that jolted the youngster's chin.

Then Dan slipped away again, grinning gleefully, well aware that nothing would anger Quimby more easily than would that same grin. "I'll wipe that disgrace off your face myself," growled Quimby, closing in briskly.

"Come over here and get it," taunted Dan, showing some of his neatest footwork.

Quimby sent in three blows fast; two of them Dalzell blocked, but one hit him on the chest, staggering him slightly. Midshipman Quimby started to follow up his advantage. In another moment, however, he was backing away with a cut lip.

"There's something to wipe off your own face," suggested Dan, grinning harder than ever.

Stung, Mr. Quimby made strenuous efforts to pay back with worse coin. He was still trying when the call of time sounded.

"You didn't half go in after him, Dan," murmured Dave, as the latter and Rollins quickly toweled their man in the corner.

"If I had, I might have gotten more of him than I wanted," muttered Dalzell.

"Why don't you mix it up faster?" queried Rollins.

"Because," proclaimed Midshipman Dan, "I don't want to fight or get hurt. I'm doing this sort of thing just for exercise, you understand."

Then they were called into the second round. Quimby, in the meantime, had been counseled to crowd the plebe hard, and to hammer him when he got close.

So, now, Quimby started in to do broadside work. At last he scored fairly, hitting Dalzell on the nose and starting the flow.

But, within ten seconds, Dalzell had return the blow with interest. After that things went slowly for a few more seconds, when time was again called.

"That plebe isn't exactly easy," Quimby confided to his seconds. "I've got to watch him, and be cautious. I haven't seen a plebe as cool and ready in many a day."

In the third round Quimby was perhaps too cautious. He did not rush enough. Dan, on the other hand, bore down a bit. Just before the call of time he closed Quimby's right eye.

Both Quimby and his seconds were now dubious, though the youngster's fighting pluck and determination ran as high as ever.

"I've got to wipe him off the field in this fourth round, or go to the grass myself," murmured Quimby, while his seconds did the best they could with him.

"I'm warming up finely," confided Dan to Dave and Rollins.

"You're coming through all right," nodded Dave confidently. "At present you have twice as much vision as the other fellow, and only a fraction as much of soreness. But keep on the watch to the end."

For the first twenty seconds of the new round it was Quimby who was on the defensive. Dan followed him up just warmly enough to be annoying.

At last, however, Dan straightened, stiffened, and there was a quick flash in his eyes.

He saw his chance, and now he jumped in at it. His feint reached for Quimby's solar plexus, but the real blow, from Dalzell's right hand, hammered in, all but closing Quimby's other eye.

Smack! Right on top of that staggerer came a hook that landed on the youngster's forehead with such force that Quimby fell over backward. He tried to catch himself, but failed, and lurched to the ground.

"—six, seven, eight—" counted the timekeeper.

Quimby staggered bravely to his feet, but stood there, his knees wobbling, his arms all but hanging at his side.

Dan did not try to hit. He backed off slightly keeping only at half-guard and watching his opponent.

"What's the matter, Quimby" called Mr. Ferris. "Can't you go on?"

"Yes; I'm going on, to the knock-out!" replied the youngster doggedly.

He tried to close in, but was none too steady on his feet. Dan, watching him, readily footed it, merely watching for the youngster to lead out.

"Time!"

Quimby's two seconds rushed to his side. Midshipman Ferris and the time-keeper also gathered around.

"Quimby," spoke the referee, "you're in no shape to go on."

"I can stand up and be hit," muttered the youngster gamely.

"Mr. Dalzell, do you care to go further?" asked Mr. Ferris.

"I shan't attempt to hit Mr. Quimby, sir, unless he develops a good deal more steam."

Ferris looked at Quimby's seconds. They shook their head.

"I award the fight to Mister Dalzell," declared Midshipman Ferris.

"Oh, give it to Mr. Quimby, if you don't mind, sir," begged Dan. "He got the game, and might as well have the name along with it."

"Mister, don't be touge all the time," cried Mr. Ferris sharply.

"I don't mean to be, sir," replied Dan quite meekly. "What I meant to convey, sir, is that I don't care anything about winning fights. The decision, sir, is of very little importance to me. I don't fight because I like it, but merely because I need the exercise. A fight about once a week will be very much to my liking, sir."

"You'll get it, undoubtedly," replied Midshipman Ferris dryly.

"Whee, won't it be great!" chuckled Dan, in an undertone, as he stepped over to his seconds. "Give me that towel, Dave. I can rub myself off."

While Dan was dressing, and Quimby was doing the same, one of the seconds of the youngster class came over, accompanied by the timekeeper.

"Mister, you really do fight as though you enjoyed it," remarked the latter.

"But I don't," denied Dan. "I'm willing to do it, though, to keep myself in condition. Say once a week, except in really hot weather. A little game like this tones up the liver so that I can almost feel it dancing inside of me."

As he spoke, Dalzell clapped both hands to his lower left side and jumped up and down.

"You heathen, your liver isn't there," laughed the time-keeper.

"Isn't it?" demanded Dan. "Now, I'm ready to maintain, at all times, that I know more about my liver and its hanging-out place than anyone else possibly can."

There was a note of half challenge in this, but the time-keeper merely laughed and turned away. Members of the second class usually feel too grave and dignified to "take it out of" plebes. That work is left to the "youngsters" of the third class.

A little later Mr. Quimby presented himself for medical attendance. His face certainly showed signs of the need of tender ministration. "Dan, why in the world are you so fresh?" remonstrated Dave, when the two chums were back in their room. "You talk as though you wanted to fight every man in the upper classes. You'll get your wish, if you don't look out."

"Old fellow," replied Dalzell quizzically, "I expect to get into two or three more fights. I don't mean to be touge, but I do intend to let it be seen that I look upon it as a lark to be called out. Then, if I win the next two or three fights also, I won't be bothered any after that. This is my own scheme for joining the peace society before long."

Nor is it wholly doubtful that Dan's was the best plan, in the long run, for a peaceful life among a lot of spirited young men.

XI. MIDSHIPMAN HENKEL DOES SOME THINKING

"Busy" asked Midshipman Henkel, of the fourth class, stepping into the room which Farley and Page shared.

The release bell had just sounded, giving all of the young men a brief interval of freedom before taps.

"Not especially," laughed Farley, as he finished stacking his books and papers neatly.

It was about a week after the night of Dan's fight with Midshipman Quimby.

"Let me get a good look at your face, Farley, under the light," continued Henkel. "Why, it looks almost natural again. My, but it was a rough pounding that fellow, Darrin, gave it!"

"Yes," nodded Farley, flushing.

"Let me see; isn't it about time that you squared matters up with Darrin?" went on Midshipman Henkel.

"How? What do you mean?" demanded Farley, while Page, too, looked on with interest.

"Well, first of all, Darrin gets the whole bunch of us ragged by the watchman. The when you object, he pounds your face at his own sweet will."

"What are you trying to do?" laughed Farley. "Are you trying to fan up the embers of my wrath against Darrin?"

"Such embers shouldn't need much fanning," retorted Mr. Henkel coolly. "Surely, you are not going to let the dead dog lie?"

"Darrin and I fought the matter out, and he had the good fortune to win the appeal to force," replied Plebe Farley stiffly. "I don't associate with him now, and don't expect to, later on, if we both graduate into the Navy."

"That satisfies your notions of honor, does it, with regard to a man who not only injured you, but pounded your face to a fearful pulp?"

Henkel's tone as he put the question, was one of bitter irony.

"Do you know," demanded Farley, rising, his face now flushing painfully, "I don't wholly like your tone."

"Forget it, then," begged Henkel. "I don't mean to be offensive to you, Farley. I haven't the least thought in the world like that. But I take this whole Darrin business so bitterly to heart that I suppose I am unable to comprehend how you can be so meek about it."

"Meek?" cried Farley. "What do you mean by that word?"

"Well, see here," went on Henkel coaxingly, "are we men of spirit, or are we not? We fellows devise a little outing in the town of Annapolis. It's harmless enough, though it happens to be against the rules in the little blue book. We are indiscreet enough to let Darrin in on the trick, and he pipes the whole lay off to some one. Result—we are 'ragged' and fifty 'dems.' apiece. When you accuse Darrin of his mean work he gives you the lie. True, you show spirit enough to fight him for it, but the fight turns out to be simply more amusement for him. Now, I've been thinking over this thing and I can't rest until the mean work is squared. But I find you, who suffered further indignities under Darrin's fists, quite content to let the matter rest. That's why I am astonished, and why I say so frankly."

Having delivered this harangue with an air of patient justice, Henkel seated himself with one leg thrown over the edge of the study table, waiting to hear what Farley could say in reply. "Well, what do you plan to do further in the matter?" insisted Midshipman Farley.

"To get square with Darrin!"

"How?"

"Well, now see here, Farley, and you, too, Page, what has happened? At first we had the class pretty sore against Darrin for getting our crowd ragged. Since the fight, however, in which you were pummeled like—"

"Never mind my fate in the fight," interposed Farley. "It was a fair fight."

"Well, ever since the fight," resumed Henkel, "Darrin has been climbing up again in class favor. Most of the boobies in the fourth class seem to feel that, just because Darrin hammered you so, the beating you received proves Darrin's innocence of a mean act."

"I can't help what the class concludes," retorted Farley stiffly.

"Page, you have more spirit than that, haven't you?" demanded Henkel, wheeling upon Midshipman Farley's roommate.

"I hope I have spirit enough," replied Page, bridling slightly, "but I am aware of one big lack."

"What is that?"

"I seem to lack the keen intelligence needed to understand what you are driving at, Henkel."

"That's the point, Henkel," broke in Midshipman Farley, walking the floor in short turns. "Just what are you driving at? Why are you trying to make me mad by such frequent references to the fact that Darrin won his fight with me?"

"I'm sounding you fellows," admitted Henkel.

"That's just what it rings like," affirmed Midshipman Page, nodding his head. "Well, out with it! What's your real proposition?"

"Are you with me?" asked Midshipman Henkel warily.

"How can we tell," demanded Farley impatiently, "until you come down out of the thunder clouds, and tell us just what you mean?"

"Pshaw, fellows," remarked Mr. Henkel, in exasperation, "I hate to think it, but I am beginning to wonder if you two have the amount of spirit with which I had always credited you."

"Cut out the part about the doubts," urged Farley, "and tell us, in plain English, just what you are driving at."

"Fellows, I believe, then," explained Midshipman Henkel, "that we owe it to ourselves, to the Naval Academy and to the Navy, to work Dave Darrin out of here as soon as we can."

"How?" challenged Farley flatly.

"Why, can't we put up some scheme that will pile up the 'dems.' against that industrious greaser? Can't we spring a game that will wipe all his grease-marks off the efficiency slate?" asked Midshipman Henkel mysteriously.

"Do you mean by putting up a job on Darrin?" inquired Page.

"That's just it!" nodded Henkel, with emphasis.

"Putting up a job on a man usually calls for trickery, doesn't it?" questioned Farley.

"Why, yes—that is—er—ingenuity," admitted Henkel.

"Trickery isn't the practice of a gentleman, is it?" insisted Farley.

"It has to be, sometimes, when we are fighting a rascal," retorted Midshipman Henkel.

"I'm afraid I don't see that," rejoined Page, shaking his head. "Dirty work is never excusable. I'd sooner let a fellow seem to win over me, for the time being, than to resort to trickery or anything like underhanded methods for getting even with him."

"Good for you, Page!" nodded Farley "That's the whole game for a gentleman—and that's what either a midshipman or a Naval officer is required to be. Henkel, old fellow, you are a little too hot under your blouse collar tonight. Wait until you've cooled off, and you'll sign in with us on our position."

"Then you fellows are going to play the meek waiting game with Darrin, are you?" sneered Henkel.

"We're going to play the only kind of game that a gentleman may play," put in Page incisively, "and we are not going to dally with any game about which a gentleman need feel the least doubt."

"You've spoken for me, Page, old chap," added Farley.

Midshipman Henkel took his leg off the desk, stood there for a moment, eyeing his two comrades half sneeringly, then turned on his heel and left the room. Just before he closed the door after him Henkel called back:

"Good night, fellows."

"Well, what do you think of that?" demanded Farley, a moment later.

"I think," replied Midshipman Page, "just as you do, that Darrin, in his desire to bone grease somewhere, played a dirty trick on us. I consider Darrin to be no better than a dog, and I apologize to the dog. But we're not going to make dogs of ourselves in order to even up matters."

"We're certainly not," replied Farley, with a nod. "Oh, well, Henkel is a mighty good fellow, at heart. He'll cool down and come around all right."

At that instant, however, Midshipman Henkel, with a deep scowl on his face, was whispering mysteriously with his roommate Brimmer.

XII. A CHRONIC PAP FRAPPER

Another week had passed.

By this time all of the new midshipmen had had a very strong taste of what the "grind" is like at the U.S. Naval Academy.

If the lessons had seemed hard at the outset, the young men now regarded the tax demanded on their brains as little short of inhuman.

The lessons were long and hard. No excuse of "unprepared" or otherwise was ever accepted in a section room.

The midshipman who had to admit himself "unprepared" immediately struck "zip," or absolute zero as a marking for the day. Many such marks would swiftly result in dragging even a bright man's average down to a point where he would fall below two-five and be "unsat."

"I thought we plugged along pretty steadily when we were in the High School," sighed Dave Darrin, looking up from a book. "Danny boy, a day's work here is fully three times as hard as the severest day back at the High School.

"David, little giant," retorted Dalzell, "your weak spot is arithmetic. It's just seven times as hard here as the worst deal that we ever got in the High School."

"Oh, well," retorted Darrin doggedly, "other men have stood this racket before us, and have graduated into the Navy. If they did it, we can do it, too. Mr. Trotter was telling me, yesterday, that the plebe year is the hardest year of all here."

"Mr. Trotter is a highly intelligent individual, then," murmured Dan Dalzell.

"He explained that the first year is the hardest just because the new man has never before learned how to study. After our first year here, he says, we'll have the gait so that we can go easily at the work given us."

"If we ever live through the first year," murmured Dan disconsolately. "As for me, I'm hovering at the 'unsat.' line all the time, and constantly fearing that I'm going to be unseated. If I could see myself actually getting through the first year here, with just enough of an average to save me, I'd be just as happy as ever a fourth class man can hope to be here."

"Remember the old Gridley spirit, Danny boy," coaxed Dave. "We can't be licked—just because we don't know how to take a licking. We're going to get through here, Danny, and we're going to become officers in the Navy. It's tough on the way—that's all."

"And we green young idiots," sighed Dalzell, "thought the life here was just a life of parading, with yachting thrown in on the side. We were going to feel swell in our gold lace, and puff out our chests under the approving smiles of the girls. We were going to lead the german—and, say, Dave, what were some of the other fool things we expected to find happiness in doing at Annapolis?

"It served us right," grunted Darrin, "if we imagined that we were going to get through without real work. Danny boy, I don't believe there's a single thing in life—worth having—a fellow can get without working hard for it!"

"There goes the call for mathematics, Dave. We'll tumble out and see whether we can get a two-six today.

"Or a two-seven," suggested Darrin hopefully. "My, but how far away a full four seems!

"Did anyone ever get a full four?" asked Dan, opening his eyes very wide.

As each, with his uniform cap set squarely on, and his book and papers carried in left hand, turned out, he found the corridor to be swarming with midshipmen fully as anxious as were this pair.

A minute later hundreds of midshipmen were forming by classes. Then the classes parted into sections and the little groups marched away in many directions, all going at brisk military gait. Dave got through better, that forenoon, than usual. He made a three-one, while Dalzell scored a two-eight.

Then this section, one of many, marched back.

As Dave and Dan swung down the corridor, and into their own room, they halted, just inside the door, and came quickly to attention. Lieutenant Hall, the officer in charge for the day, stood there, and with him the midshipman who served as assistant cadet officer of the day.

"Mr. Darrin," spoke Lieutenant Hall severely, "here is your dress jacket on the floor, and with dust ground into it."

"Yes, sir," replied Dave, saluting. "But I left it on its proper hook—I am sure of that."

Up came Dan's hand in quick salute.

"May I speak, sir?"

"Yes, Mr. Dalzell," replied the officer in charge.

"I remember seeing Mr. Darrin's coat hanging properly on its hook, sir, just before we marched off to math. recitation."

"Did you leave the room, Mr. Dalzell, after Mr. Darrin, or even with him?" questioned Lieutenant Hall.

"No-o, sir. I stepped out just ahead of Mr. Darrin."

"That is all, then, Mr. Dalzell. Mr. Darrin, there is a pair of your shoes. They are in place, but one of them is muddy."

Dave glanced at the shoes uneasily, a flush coming to his face.

"I am certain, sir, that both shoes were in proper condition when I left to go to the last recitation."

"Then how do you account for the dust-marked dress jacket on the floor, and the muddy shoe, Mr. Darrin?"

"I can think of no explanation to offer, sir."

"Nor can I imagine any excuse," replied Lieutenant Hall courteously, yet skeptically.

Lieutenant Hall made a further inspection of the room, then turned to Dave.

"Mr. Darrin, you will put yourself on the report for these two examples of carelessness of your uniform equipment."

"Very good, sir."

Saluting, Dave crossed to the study table, laying his book and papers there. Then, once more saluting, he passed Lieutenant Hall and made his way to the office of the officer in charge.

Taking one of the blanks, and a pen, Dave Darrin filled out the complaint against himself, and turned it over.

"Dave, you didn't leave your things in any such shape as that?" burst from Dan as soon as Dave had returned to his room.

"I didn't do it—of course I didn't," came impatiently from Darrin.

"Then who did?"

"Some fellow may have done it for a prank."

Dan shook his head, replying, stubbornly:

"I don't believe that any fellow in the Naval Academy has a sense of humor that would lead him to do a thing like that, just as a piece of what he would consider good-natured mischief. Dave, this sort of report against you on pap means demerits."

"Fortunately," smiled Darrin, "the pap sheet is so clear of my name that I can stand a few demerits without much inconvenience."

But at breakfast formation, the next morning, Dave's name was read off with twenty demerits.

"That's a huge shame," blazed forth Dan, as soon as the chums were back in their room, preparing to march to their first recitation.

"Oh, well, it can't be helped—can it?" grimaced Dave.

Within the next fortnight, however, Darrin's equipment and belongings were found to be in bad shape no less than five other times. With a few demerits which he had received in the summer term Dave now stood up under one hundred and twenty demerits.

"I'm allowed only three hundred demerits for the year, and two hundred by January will drop me," muttered Dave, now becoming thoroughly uneasy.

For, by this time, he was certain that some unknown enemy had it "in for him." Darrin felt almost morally certain that some one—and it must be a midshipman—was at the bottom these troubles. Yet, though he and Dan had done all they could think of to catch the enemy, neither had had the least success in this line.

"Eighty demerits more to go," muttered Dave, "and the superintendent will recommend to the Secretary of the Navy that I be dropped for general inaptitude. It seems a bit tough, doesn't it, Danny boy?"

"It's infamous!" blazed Dalzell. "Oh, if I could only catch the slick rascal who is at the bottom of all this!"

"But both of us together don't seem to be able to catch him," replied Darrin dejectedly. "Oh, well, perhaps there won't be any more of it. Of course, I am already deprived of all privileges. But then, I never care to go into Annapolis, and I am never invited to officers' quarters, anyway, so the loss of privileges doesn't mean so very much. It's the big danger of losing my chance to remain here at the Naval Academy that is worrying me."

Yet outwardly, to others, Dave Darrin was patient. His surplus irritation he vented in extraordinary effort in the gymnasium, where he was making a remarkable record for himself.

But of course his worries were reflected in his studies and recitations. Dave was dropping steadily. He seemed soon destined to reach the "wooden section" in math. This "wooden section" is the section composed of the young men who stand lowest of all in a given study. The men of the "wooden section" are looked upon as being certain of dismissal when the semiannual examinations come along.

Now, for five days, things went along more in a better groove. Nothing happened to Darrin, and he was beginning to hope that his very sly persecutor had ceased to annoy him for good.

On the sixth day, however, the chums returned from recitation in English.

"Nothing seems to be wrong here," remarked Dave, with a sigh of satisfaction.

"Umf—umf!" sniffed Dan, standing still in the middle of the room. "Doesn't it smell a little as though some one had been smoking in here?"

"Don't even suggest the thing!" begged Dave turning white at the thought.

Tap-tap! sounded at the door. In walked the white-gloved cadet assistant officer of the day.

"Mr. Darrin, you will report immediately to the officer in charge."

"Very good, sir," Dave answered.

This was again Lieutenant Hall's day to be in charge. Dave walked into that gentleman's office, saluted, reported his presence under orders and then stood at attention.

"Mr. Darrin," began Lieutenant Hall, "I had occasion to inspect your room. The air was quite thick with tobacco smoke. I felt it necessary to make a very thorough search. In the pocket of your rain-coat I found"—Lieutenant Hall produced from his desk a pouch of tobacco and a well-seasoned pipe—"these."

The officer in charge looked keenly at Darrin, who had turned almost deathly white. Certainly Dave had the appearance of one wholly guilty.

"Have you anything to say, Mr. Darrin?" continued the officer in charge.

"I have never, in my life, sir, smoked or used tobacco in any form," Darrin truthfully answered.

"Then how did these articles come to be in your possession?"

"They were not in my possession, sir, were they?" Darrin asked, with the utmost respect.

Lieutenant Hall frowned perceptibly.

"Mr. Darrin, do not attempt any quibble. The circumstances under which these articles were found place them sufficiently in your possession. What have you to say that will clear you?"

"I can offer, sir, the testimony of my roommate, Mr. Dalzell, who will declare most positively that he has never known me to use tobacco."

"Did Mr. Dalzell leave your room with you when you went to your last recitation?"

"No, sir; he left fifteen minutes before, by permission, to go to his locker in the gymnasium to look over certain articles there."

"Then you are unable to call your roommate to support your assertion that you did not smoke before going with your section to recitation in English?"

"I have only my unsupported word, sir, as a midshipman and a gentleman, to offer."

"Under almost all circumstances, Mr. Darrin, a midshipman's word of honor should be sufficient. But you have been reported several times of late, and with apparent justice. You will make in writing, Mr. Darrin, at once, such report as you wish to hand in on this incident, and the report against you will be considered in the usual way."

Dave returned to his room. Though he was discouraged his face looked grim, and his air was resolute.

Taking pen and paper he began to prepare his report on this latest charge.

Having finished and signed, Dave next picked up a bit of exercise paper and began to figure.

"What are you doing, old chap?" asked Dan sympathetically.

"My head is in too much of a whirl for me to trust myself to any mental arithmetic," Darrin answered. "I have been figuring how much further I have to go. First offense of having tobacco in possession calls for twenty-five demerits. That brings the total up to one hundred and forty-five. Dave, I have a lease of life here amounting to fifty-four more demerits in this term. The fifty-fifth signs my ticket home!

"The next trick of this kind attempted," cried Dalzell, his face glowing with anger, "must sign, instead, the home ticket of the rascal who is at the bottom of all this!"

"But how?" demanded Dave blankly. "He has been entirely too slick to allow himself to be caught."

XIII. MIDSHIPMAN FARLEY'S ABOUT-FACE

The gloom that now hung over Dave Darrin was the thickest, the blackest that he had ever encountered in his short life.

He was fully convinced, of course, that his troubles were the work of some determined and unscrupulous enemy or enemies.

Yet he was equally convinced that he was not likely to catch the plotter against his happiness. He and Dan had already done all that seemed to be in their power.

On the Saturday afternoon following the tobacco incident the first ray came to light up the gloom—though it did not take away any of awesome demerits that had piled up against him.

Dave and Dan were standing chatting in a group of about a score of fourth class men when Farley and Page stepped briskly in their direction.

Dave glanced at the pair in some astonishment, for it was weeks since he had been on speaking terms with either of them, and now both looked as though about to address him.

"One moment gentlemen, all, if you please," called out Midshipman Farley. "Let no one leave just now. I have something to say that I wish to make as public as possible."

Then, turning toward the astonished Darrin, Mr. Farley continued:

"Darrin, I got into a bad scrape once, and I accused you of carrying the information that resulted in several others and myself being detected. I was positive in my charge. I now wish to make you the most public apology that is possible. I know now that you did not in any way betray myself and my companions."

"I am glad you have come to this conclusion," Dave Darrin replied.

"It is not exactly a conclusion," replied Farley frankly. "It is a discovery."

"How did you find it out, Farley?" asked Dan Dalzell, speaking to that midshipman for the first time in many weeks.

"I have the word of the watchman who caught us. That is old Grierson, and there isn't a more honest old fellow in the yard."

"Did you ask Grierson, Farley?" questioned another midshipman gravely.

"No; for that would be to pile on another offense," replied Farley readily. "I am well enough aware that a midshipman has no right to go to a watchman about a matter in which the watchman has reported him. But a civilian is under no such restrictions. As some of you fellows know, my cousin, Sloan, was here at the Academy yesterday. Now, Ben Sloan is a newspaper man, and a fellow of an inquiring disposition. I told Ben something about the scrape I had been in, and Ben soon afterward hunted up Grierson. Grierson told Ben the whole truth about it. It seems that Grierson did not have any information from anyone. He saw our crowd go over the fence the night we Frenched it. But Grierson was too far away to catch any of us, or recognize us. So he made no alarm, but just waited and prowled until we came back. He heard the noise we made trying to get up over the wall from the outside, and ran down to that part of the wall. He didn't make any noise, and stood in the shrubbery until we had all dropped over. Then he stepped out, looked us over quickly and demanded our names. He had us ragged cold, so there was nothing to do but give him our names. Now, there's the whole story fellows, and I'm mighty glad I've got at the truth of it."

"So am I," muttered Dan dryly.

"Darrin, you haven't said whether you accept my apology," Farley continued insistently. "I'm mighty sorry for the whole thing, and I'm glad you thrashed me as you did when we met. I richly deserved that for my hot-headedness."

For just a moment Dave Darrin couldn't speak, but he held out his hand.

"Thank you, old fellow," cried Farley, grasping it. "From now on I hope we shall trust each other and be friends always."

Farley had been a good deal spoiled at home, and had a hasty, impetuous temper. His career at Annapolis, however, was doing much to make a man of him in short time.

Several of the other midshipmen spoke, expressing their pleasure that the whole thing was cleared up, and that Dave had proved to be above suspicion.

"And now I'm off to find the other fellows who were with me that night," continued Farley. "I've told Page, already, but I've got to find Scully and Oates, Henkel and Brimmer and put them straight also."

Five minutes later Farley was explaining to Midshipman Henkel.

"Well, you are the softy!" said Henkel, in a sneering tone.

"Why?" demanded Farley stiffly.

"To fall for a frame-up like that."

"Do you mean that my cousin lied to me?"

"No; but Grierson certainly did."

"Old man Grierson is no liar," retorted Farley. "He is one of most trusted employes in the yard. He has caught many a midshipman, but Grierson is such a square old brick that the midshipmen of two generations love him."

"You're too easy for this rough world," jeered Midshipman Henkel.

"Perhaps I am," retorted Farley. "But I'm going through it decently, anyway."

"So you went and rubbed down Darrin's ruffled fur as gently as you could," continued Henkel.

"I went to him and apologized—the only thing a man could do under the circumstances."

"And now I suppose some of the fellows are trying to build up an altar to Darrin as the class idol?"

"I don't know. I hope so, for I'm convinced that Dave Darrin is as decent a fellow as ever signed papers at Annapolis."

"Go on out and buy some incense to burn before Darrin," laughed Henkel harshly.

Perhaps Mr. Henkel might not have been as flippant had he known that, all the time, Farley was studying him intently.

"So, in spite of all explanations, you still have no use for Darrin?" asked Midshipman Farley.

"I have just as much use for him as I have for any other big sneak," retorted Mr. Henkel. "He betrayed us to the watchman, and I don't care what explanations are offered to show that he didn't."

"And you won't be friendly with Darrin?" insisted Farley.

"I?" asked Henkel scornfully. "Not for an instant!

"Well, I hardly believe that Darrin will care much," replied Mr. Farley, turning on his heel and walking out of the room.

"It's a mighty good thing that Darrin is going to be dropped out of Annapolis," growled Henkel to himself. "He's altogether too slick in playing a dirty trick on people and then swinging them around so that they'll fawn upon him. When Farley first came here he was a fellow of spirit. But he's been going bad for some time, and now he's come out straight and clean for grease-mark!"

Saturday afternoon proved a dull time for Dave Darrin. The heavy pile of demerits opposite his name prevented his getting leave even to stroll out into the town of Annapolis. Dan could have gone, but would not leave his chum.

Sunday morning there was chapel, but Dave, usually attentive, heard hardly a word of the discourse. Sunday afternoon he turned doggedly to his books. Dan, who was getting along better, and who just now, stood three sections higher than Dave in math., went visiting among the members of his class.

Sunday evening all the cadets were again busy at their studies until 9.30. As early as the regulations allowed Dave turned down his bed, undressed and got into it, feeling utterly "blue."

"It's no use," he told himself, as he lay awake, thinking, thinking, thinking. "Some one has it in for me, of course. But Dan and I together can't find out who the rascal is. He may try nothing against me again, for weeks, but sooner or later he'll turn another demerit trick against me. Before January I shall be home again, looking for some sort of job."

Before eight o'clock the following morning the class, after muster, broke into sections which marched away to recitation in math.

Dan Dalzell was now section leader of one group. Dave marched in the ranks of a much lower section.

This morning the section with which Dave marched was one man short. Not until the members had taken their seats, or places at the blackboards, did Darrin give heed enough to note that it was Farley who was absent.

The section leader, however, had reported that Mr. Farley was absent by permission of the head of the Department of Mathematics, "for purposes of study." Unusual as this excuse was the instructor had accepted it without making any inquiry.

If Farley was in his room for purposes of study, then what kind of "study" could it be?

For at that precise moment, Midshipman Farley was standing close to a tiny crack between the edge of his room door and the jamb. He was "peeking" out attentively.

Curiously enough Midshipman Page, Farley's roommate, had also been excused from attending section work. At this moment Mr. Page sat tilted back in his chair, with his feet resting across the corner of the study table.

A most unmilitary pose for Mr. Page, to be sure. Yet what need was there to fear report with roommate Farley thus industriously standing by the door?

So Mr. Page hummed softly to himself and stared out of the window.

Midshipman Farley remained by the door until he was becoming decidedly wearied of his occupation, and Page had several times shifted his feet.

Then, all of a sudden, Midshipman Farley turned with a low, sharp hiss.

"It?" whispered Midshipman Page, rising swiftly.

"Yes," nodded Farley.

Midshipman Page walked swiftly out of the room, though his heels did not make as much noise as usual.

Just after Page had left the room Midshipman Farley stole along the corridor, halting before a door.

There he paused, as though on duty. It was not long before his erect attitude was accounted for, for Lieutenant Nettleson, the officer in charge, came down into the corridor, followed by the cadet officer of the day.

Just a little way behind them walked Midshipman Page.

Farley stood quickly at attention, saluting the officer in charge, who returned the salute.

XIV. THE TRAP IN MIDSHIPMEN'S QUARTERS

Tap-Tap! sounded Lieutenant Nettleson's knuckles on the door.

Just a shade longer than usual the lieutenant waited ere he turned the door knob and entered the room.

Behind him, like a faithful orderly, stood Midshipman Hawkins, of the first class, cadet officer of the day.

A quick look about the room Lieutenant Nettleson took, then turned to the cadet officer of the day.

"Mr. Hawkins," spoke the O.C., "Mr. Darrin seems to be growing worse in his breaches of duty."

"So it seems, sir," agreed the cadet officer the day.

"Mr. Darrin has left his bed turned down," continued the lieutenant, inspecting that article of furniture. "And, judging by the looks of the sheets, he has been abed with his boots on."

"Yes sir."

"You will put Mr. Darrin on the report for this latest offense, Mr. Hawkins."

"Aye, aye, sir."

Lieutenant Nettleson made a further inspection of the room.

"And Mr. Darrin has neglected to empty his washbowl. He has also thrown the towel on the floor. Put Mr. Darrin on the report for that as well."

"Aye, aye, sir."

"That is all here, Mr Hawkins."

"Very good, sir."

O.C. and cadet officer of the day turned to leave the room. As they were crossing the threshold Midshipman Farley, saluting, reported:

"I think, sir, if you search more closely, you will find some one in this room."

"Very good," replied the officer in charge, turning back.

In truth, Lieutenant Nettleson was already aware that there was a prowler in the room, for he had seen a pair of feet in a dark corner; but he had purposely awaited Midshipman Farley's report.

Now, swift as a flash, Lieutenant Nettleson turned back, going straight so the cupboard in which Dave Darrin's uniform equipment hung.

Pushing aside a dress uniform and a raincoat that hung like curtains, Lieutenant Nettleson gazed into the face of—Midshipman Henkel!

Henkel had been caught so suddenly, had realized it so tardily, that the grin of exultation had not quite faded from his face by the time that he stood exposed.

In another second, however, that midshipman's face had turned as white as dirty chalk.

"Stand forth, sir!" ordered the O.C. sternly.

Henkel obeyed, his legs shaking under him.

"What is your name?"

"Henkel, sir."

"Mr. Henkel, what are you doing in the room of another midshipman, in the absence of both occupants?

"I—I—just dropped in, sir!" stammered affrighted midshipman.

"Mr. Henkel, sir," continued Lieutenant Nettleson sternly, "it has long been a puzzle to the discipline officers why Mr. Darrin should so deliberately and senselessly invite demerits for lack of care of his equipment. You may now be certain that you will be accused of all breaches of good order and discipline that have been laid at Mr. Darrin's door. Have you anything to say, sir."

Midshipman Henkel, who had been doing some swift thinking, had had time enough to realize that no one had seen him doing any mischief in the room. The offense, merely, of visiting another midshipman's room improperly would call but for ten demerits. Pooh! The scrape was such a simple one that he would lie valiantly out of the graver charge and escape with ten demerits.

"I admit being here, sir, without propriety. I am innocent of any further wrongdoing, sir," lied the culprit.

Lieutenant Nettleson studied the young man's face keenly.

"Mr. Henkel, was Mr. Darrin's bed turned down and in its present disordered state when you entered the room?"

"Yes, sir."

"You declare this on your honor as a midshipman and gentleman?"

"Yes, sir," lied the unabashed Henkel.

"Was Mr. Darrin's washbowl in its present untidy state?"

"I don't know, sir. I didn't notice that."

"Very good, Mr. Henkel. Go to your room and remain there in close arrest. Do not leave your room, except by orders or proper permission, sir."

"Very good, sir," replied Henkel, saluting. Then, his face still a ghastly hue, he turned and marched from the room, not venturing, under the eyes of the O.C., to look at either Farley or Page.

When the sections came marching back from math. Lieutenant Nettleson stood outside the door of his office.

"Mr. Darrin!" called the O.C. And, a moment later, "Mr. Dalzell!"

Both wondering midshipmen approached the officer in charge for the day at Bancroft Hall, and saluted.

"Mr. Darrin," stated Lieutenant Nettleson, "you and your roommate may go to your room to leave your books. In the room you will find some evidences of disorder. Do not attempt to set them straight. As soon as you have left your books return to me."

"And I also, sir?" queried Dan, saluting.

"You, also, Mr. Dalzell," replied the officer.

"Now, has this thing broken loose again?" groaned Dave Darrin, as the two chums hurried below.

"It seems as if it ought to stop some time," gasped Dalzell.

"It will, and soon," gritted Darrin. "In a very short time, now, I shall certainly have the full course of two hundred demerits. Great—Scott!"

For now the two chums were in their room, and saw the full extent of the mischief there. "I guess I may as well wire home to Gridley for the price of my return ticket," hinted Dave bitterly.

"Don't do anything of the sort," urged Dan, though with but little hope in his voice. "You may still have a margin of ten or fifteen dems. left to hold you on."

"We're under orders, Danny boy, to report back to the O.C."

"O.K."

"Come along, then."

In the office of the officer in charge stood Midshipmen Farley and Page. Just after Dave and Dan entered Henkel came in, accompanied Midshipman Hawkins, the cadet officer of day.

It was an actually ferocious gaze that Henkel turned upon Darrin. In that same instant Dave believed that a great light had broken in upon his mind.

"Mr. Hawkins," requested the O.C., "ascertain whether the commandant of midshipmen can see us now."

Saluting, the cadet officer of the day passed out of the room, very prim and erect, his white gloves of duty a very conspicuous part of his uniform.

In a few moments, he returned, raising his right, white-gloved hand to the visor of his cap.

"The commandant of midshipmen is ready, sir."

"Come with me, then," directed Lieutenant Nettleson, who had already risen to receive the cadet officer's report.

The O.C. led the way into the office of Commander Jephson, U.S. Navy, the commandant of midshipmen.

"This, Mr. Nettleson, I understand, relates to Mr. Darrin's late apparent course in matters of discipline?" inquired Commander Jephson.

The commandant of midshipmen, who was middle-aged and slightly bald, removed his eye-glasses, holding them poised in his right hand while he gazed calmly at Mr. Nettleson.

"Yes, sir. This is the matter," replied the O.C., saluting his superior.

Commander Jephson had, usually, a manner of slow and gentle speech. He impressed one, at first sight, as being a man lacking in "ginger," which was a great mistake, as many a midshipman had found to his cost.

The commandant of cadets, however, did not believe in becoming excited or excitable until the occasion arose.

"Be good enough to make your statement, Mr. Nettleson," requested Commander Jephson.

Consulting a slip of paper that he held in his left hand the younger Naval officer recounted the previous instances in which Midshipman Darrin, fourth class, U.S. Naval Academy, had been found delinquent in that he had slighted the care of his equipment or of his room.

Having made this preliminary statement, the officer in charge now came down to the doings of the present day.

Midshipman Henkel kept his gaze fixed on Lieutenant Nettleson's face. Henkel's bearing was almost arrogant. He had fully decided upon his course of lying himself out of his serious scrape.

XV. AIR "THE ROGUE'S MARCH"

"It is already, sir," spoke Lieutenant Nettleson, "a matter of knowledge with you that Mr. Darrin denied his responsibility in each case of disorder among his personal belongings. It is also a matter within your knowledge, sir, that Mr. Darrin, finally, in his desperation, informed you that he believed that some enemy in the brigade of midshipmen was responsible for all the bad appearances against him.

"The reply of this department, sir, to Mr. Darrin, was to the effect that, while there was a possibility of his claim being correct, yet it was nearly inconceivable. Mr. Darrin was given permission to bring forward any evidence he could secure in support of his view. As time passed, and he confessed himself unable to secure any such evidence, one set of demerits after another accumulated against Mr. Darrin.

"Yesterday, sir, so I am informed, Mr. Farley and Mr. Page approached you, stating that they believed they had good reason for suspecting a member of the brigade of seeking to injure Mr. Darrin. Midshipmen Farley and Page also stated to you that they believed the offender to be a member of the half of the fourth class which does not recite in mathematics the same time as does the half of the class to which Mr. Darrin and his roommate belong.

"As Midshipmen Farley and Page belong to the half of the class that recites during the same periods as do Mr. Darrin and Dalzell, Midshipmen Farley and Page requested permission to remain in their room during the time when they would otherwise be reciting in mathematics. They were thus to remain for two mornings, and other members of the fourth class were then willing to stay on watch for two mornings more, and so on, until the offender against Mr. Darrin, if there was one, could be caught in the act."

What a baleful glare Midshipman Henkel shot at Farley and Page! Then Henkel saw the eye of the commandant of midshipmen fixed curiously on him, and glanced down at the floor.

"This very unusual permission, sir, you finally agreed to seek from the head of the Department of Mathematics. So, this morning, Mr. Farley and Mr. Page did not march off to recitation in mathematics, but remained in their room. Presently Mr. Page reported to me, in great haste, that a midshipman other than Mr. Darrin, or Mr. Dalzell had just entered their room. I thereupon went down to that room, knocked, waited a moment, and then entered, accompanied by the cadet officer of the day. The condition of things that I found in the room you already, sir, know from my written report. While in the room I detected a pair of feet showing under the bottom of Mr. Darrin's uniform equipment hanging in his cupboard. I pretended, however not to see the feet, and turned to leave the room when Mr. Farley, as prearranged, stepped forward and informed me that he had seen some one enter the room a while before. I then turned and compelled the prowler to step forth. That prowler was Mr. Henkel."

"You questioned Mr. Henkel as to his reason for being in the room?" asked Commander Jephson.

"I did, sir."

"Did he deny guilty intention in being there?"

"He did, sir, other than admitting that he had broken the regulations by entering another midshipman's room in that midshipman's absence."

Tapping his right temple with the eye-glasses that he held in his hand, the commandant of midshipmen turned to look more directly at the startled culprit.

"Mr. Henkel, did you arrange any or all of the disorder which Lieutenant Nettleson reported having found in Mr. Darrin's room?"

"I did not, sir."

Henkel's voice was clear, firm—almost convincing.

"Have you, at any time, committed any offense in Mr. Darrin's room, by tampering with his equipment or belongings, or with the furniture of the room?"

"Never, sir," declared Midshipman Henkel positively.

"You are aware that Mr. Darrin has been punished by the imposition of a great many demerits for untidiness in the care of his equipment?"

"Yes, sir."

"But you were not responsible for any of these seeming delinquencies on Mr. Darrin's part?"

"Never, sir."

"You did not turn down, disarrange and soil his bed this forenoon, or create the appearance of untidiness in connection with Mr. Darrin washbowl?"

"No, sir."

"You make these denials on your word of honor, as a midshipman and gentleman?" persisted Commander Jephson.

"I do, sir, and most earnestly and solemnly, sir," replied Midshipman Henkel.

"One word, more, Mr. Henkel," went on the commandant of midshipmen. "When you improperly entered Mr. Darrin's room this morning, did you then observe the signs of disorder which Lieutenant Nettleson subsequently discovered and reported?"

"I did, sir, as to the bed. The washbowl I did not notice."

"That will do, for the present, Mr. Henkel. Mr. Farley, will you now state just what you saw, while watching this forenoon?"

Midshipmen Farley told, simply, how he and Page had commenced their watch.

"In the first place, sir," declared Farley, "as soon as Mr. Darrin and Mr. Dalzell had left their room, and the corridor was empty, Mr. Page and I, acting by permission and direction of this office, went at once to Mr. Darrin's room. We made an inspection. At that time there were no such signs of disorder as those which Lieutenant Nettleson subsequently found. Then, sir, Mr. Page and I went back to our room. I held our door very slightly ajar, and stood in such a position that I could glance down the corridor and keep Mr. Darrin's room door constantly within my range of vision."

"As a matter of vital fact, Mr. Farley," interrupted the commandant of midshipmen, "did you at any time relax such vigilance, even for a few seconds?"

"Not even for a few seconds, sir."

"After the inspection that Mr. Page and yourself made, who was the first person that you saw enter Mr. Darrin's room?"

"Mr. Henkel!

"Was he alone?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you then immediately send Mr. Page to the officer in charge?"

"I did, sir."

"And yourself?"

"Without allowing my glance to turn from Mr. Darrin's door, sir, I stepped out into the corridor, walked close to Mr. Darrin's room door, and then stood there until Lieutenant Nettleson and Mr. Hawkins arrived."

"Then, Mr. Farley, you are certain that there was no disorder in Mr. Darrin's room at the time when he and Mr. Dalzell left to recite in mathematics?

"I am absolutely positive, sir."

"And you are also certain that none but Mr. Henkel entered that room up to the time when the disorder was discovered by Lieutenant Nettleson?"

"I am certain, sir."

Midshipman Page was then questioned. He bore out the testimony just given by Farley in every particular.

The manner of the commandant of midshipmen was still gentle when he turned again to Henkel.

"Mr. Henkel, do you wish to modify your previous statements in any way?"

"No, sir," replied Henkel. "In all my answers I have told the whole and exact truth, as I know it. I am eager, sir, to answer any further questions that you may wish to put to me on the subject."

"Gentlemen, you may all withdraw, save Lieutenant Nettleson and Mr. Henkel," announced the commandant, after a few moments of seemingly mild thought. "Mr. Hawkins, of course you understand that what you know of this matter you know officially, and that you are not to mention or discuss it until such time as official action shall have been taken. As for you other midshipmen, I see no harm, gentlemen, in your discussing it among yourselves, but you will see to it that information does not, for the present, spread through the brigade. You may go, gentlemen."

Once outside Farley and Page walked so rapidly that Dave and Dan did not attempt to overtake them in the corridors. But they found Farley and Page waiting outside Dave's room door.

"May we come in?" asked Farley.

"If anyone on earth may," replied Dave heartily, throwing open the door, then stepping back to allow the others to enter.

"I'm afraid we've cooked a goose for some one," cried Farley, with grim satisfaction.

"Great Scott, yes," breathed Dan Dalzell, in devout thankfulness.

"Is it fair, Farley, for me to ask you whether you suspected Henkel before you caught him?" queried Dave Darrin.

"Yes; and the commandant knows that. Henkel came here one night, weeks ago, and mysteriously tried to interest us in putting up a job to get you dropped from the Navy rolls. When Page and I really tumbled that an enemy working against you, it didn't take us two minutes to guess who that enemy was. Then we started on the warpath."

"I wonder," asked Dave Darrin huskily, "whether it is really necessary for me to assure you of the tremendous burden of obligation that you've put upon me?"

"It isn't necessary, any way that you can look at the question," retorted Farley promptly. "What we did for you, Darrin, is no more than we'd stand ready to do for any man in the brigade who was being ground down and out by a mean trickster."

"Wouldn't I like to take peep in on Henkel, now, while the commandant is grilling him in that gentle way the commandant has?" mocked Midshipman Page.

"David, little giant, the matter is cleared and as good as squared," cried Dalzell. "And now I know this is the first time in my life that I've ever been really and unutterably happy!"

During the nest two days it was known through the brigade at large that Midshipman Henkel was in close arrest. The brigade did not at once learn the cause. Yet, in such appearances as Henkel was permitted to make, it was noted that he bore himself cheerfully and confidently.

Then, one day, just before the dinner formation, Darrin was ordered to report at the commandant's office.

"Mr. Darrin," announced Commander Jephson, when the midshipman had reported and saluted, "I am glad to be able to announce that we have been able to pile up so much evidence against Mr Henkel that young man finally confessed that it was he, and he alone, who created all the disorders with your equipment, and in your room for which so many demerits have been inflicted upon you. At the dinner formation. Therefore, when the orders of the day are published by the brigade adjutant, you will again hear that your demerits, given for the offenses unjustly charged against you, have been remitted by order of the superintendent. You will also learn that you have been restored to the first conduct grade, with all the privileges belonging to the midshipmen of that grade."

It was with a light heart that Dave Darrin left the commandant's office, though the young man had been expecting that very decision.

Yet, despite the fact that he knew it was coming, Dave's heart thrilled with exultation and gratitude as he heard the order read out in the brigade adjutant's quick, monotonous tones.

Then, immediately following, came another order.

Midshipman Henkel, for dishonorable conduct, was dropped from the rolls!

"Fours right, march!"

By companies the brigade wheeled and marched into the mess hall—the air resounding with the quick, martial tread of eight hundred or more of the pick of young American manhood!

As the command "march" was given one man fell out of the ranks. Henkel, from the moment of the publications of the order, was no longer a midshipman!

He had fallen deservedly, as one not fit to associate with gentlemen, or to figure among the future defenders of his country of honorable men.

As the brigade marched indifferently off, and left him there, Henkel gazed, for a few moments at the solid ranks of blue and gold, and a great sob welled up within him. In this supreme moment he realized all that he had lost—his place among honest men!

Then, crushing down any feeling of weakness, he turned on his heel, a sneer darkening his face.

Then, recalling himself, Henkel sprang up the steps and hastened to the room that had been partly his. Here he discarded his uniform substituting for it the citizen's clothes which had been brought to him from the midshipmen's store. His own few belongings that he cared about taking with him he packed hastily in a dress-suit case.

Yet the task required time. His roommate, Brimmer, was back before Henkel was ready to depart.

"You'd better wait, now, until the coast is clear," whispered Brimmer. "Hosts of the fellows are hanging about outside."

"They won't see me," jeered Henkel harshly. "I'll wait until they're off at afternoon duties. But see here, Brimmer, don't you dare forget that I might have said much about you, and that I didn't. Don't dare forget that I leave to you the task of humbling that fellow, Darrin. If you fail me, Brimmer, it won't be too late for me to do some talking."

"Oh, I'll get Darrin out of here," grimaced Brimmer. "But I won't try to do it the way you did. You went in for enmity. I'm going to undo Darrin by being his friend."

"Well, I'm through and ready to leave," muttered Henkel. "But I'm not going until the coast is clear."

Seating himself by the window, he stared moodily out, thinking of the life which had strongly appealed to him, and from which he had exiled himself. While he was so occupied knock sounded at the door; then the cadet officer of the day stepped in:

"I see you are ready to go, Mr. Henkel," announced the cadet officer. "The published order was to the effect that you leave the Naval Academy immediately. The officer in charge has sent me to see that you comply with the order at once."

"Oh, well," muttered Henkel bitterly. He turned, holding out his hand to his late roommate.

"Goodby, Brimmer; good luck!"

"The same to you," replied Brimmer, as their hands met. That was all that was said with the cadet officer of the day looking on, but both of the late roommates understood the compact of dishonor that lay between them concerning Dave Darrin's coming fate.

With his derby hat pulled low over his eyes and gripping his suit case, Henkel slunk through the corridors of Bancroft Hall. Now he faced the hardest ordeal of all in going out through the entrance of the great white building, beyond which stood many groups of midshipmen.

Now these young men of the Navy caught sight of Henkel. No goodbyes were called out to him. Instead, as his feet struck the flagging of the walk scores of lips were puckered. The midshipmen gave the departing one a whistled tune and furnished the drum part with their hands. That tune was—

"The Rogue's March."

XVI. BRIMMER MAKES A NEW FRIEND

"Darrin, I hope you don't hold me in any way responsible for that fellow Henkel's actions.

"Why should I?" asked Dave, turning and looking into the eyes of Midshipman Brimmer.

"I know that, for a while, there was hard feeling between us," continued Brimmer seriously. "It took me a long time to get it out of my stubborn head that you were the one responsible for having our crowd ragged by the watchman the night of the spread in Annapolis. Even after Farley changed his mind it took me a long time to believe that he was right."

"I forgot that whole matter long ago," replied Darrin.

"Then will you accept my tardy apology, and let us be friends?" urged Brimmer, holding out his hand.

It was not Dave Darrin's way to hold a grudge forever. He extended his own hand to take Brimmer's.

"And I hope you'll let me know you better," continued Brimmer, turning to Dan Dalzell.

"Most people who know me at all think they know me too well," laughed Dan, but he held out his hand.

Perhaps, in other walks of life, the chums might have been more wary about accepting Brimmer's suddenly proffered friendship, as they stood in the open air just after dinner one November day. The weather was so fine and mild that it seemed a shame to be cooped up between walls. Back in the High School days, for instance, Dave and Dan would have been more cautious in accepting such an offer of friendship. But at the U.S. Naval Academy the atmosphere is wholly different. The midshipmen are ranked as gentlemen, and all are so taken on trust unless they betray themselves as dishonorable. Ninety-nine per cent of the young men are earnest, honest and wholly aboveboard.

After that, during the next two or three weeks, Brimmer cultivated the acquaintance of Darrin and Dalzell at every possible opportunity. Often, in the evening, he came hastening to their room for a short visit after the release bell had sounded at 9.30. When he called, Brimmer always remained until the warning call just before taps.

"It took you a long while to find out that Dave Darrin is white enough to shake hands with," laughed Farley, one day.

"As I remember, it took you quite a little while, also, to find it out," laughed Brimmer. "I admit that I am slow at forming my friendships. But there's no mistake about Darrin, when you get to know him. He's about the finest fellow in the class."

"He certainly is," nodded Farley heartily.

Being shorn of the long list of unjustly-given demerits that had stood against his name, Darrin was now in the first conduct grade. So was Dan. That gave to both considerable in the way of privileges. On Saturdays and Sundays, for instance, they were at liberty to accept invitations to call on or dine at the houses of officers and their families. This privilege, while pleasant to possess, amounted to little, for Dave and Dan had been too busy over their studies to have any opportunity to attract social notice.

As to dancing, fourth class men do not, by tradition, attend any of the midshipmen's hops, which are reserved for upper class men.

Neither is a plebe midshipman expected to be seen escorting young ladies. In fact, the plebe has no social pleasures within the academy walls.

Outside, however, it is different. If the fourth class men are acquainted with young ladies in the town of Annapolis they may visit them on Saturday afternoons when so invited.

Here, again, Dave and Dan found no delight. For they became acquainted with none of the girls of Annapolis.

They could, however, on Saturday afternoon secure permission to go into the town. Any change outside of the Academy walls now became welcome, though our young midshipmen had no other form of pleasure than merely to stroll through the streets of the town and occasionally regale themselves with a dish of ice-cream or a glass of soda at Wiegard's.

Brimmer, one Saturday afternoon, when strolling through the town, discovered a new little shop on Main Street.

This was a little store that had just been fitted up. Some fruit was displayed for sale, though the main business of the place appeared to be the dispensing of various temperance drinks.

On the sign over the door the proprietor's first name was given as "Tony." The second name was an unpronounceable Greek one.

Being thirsty Brimmer stepped inside.

"Are you Tony?" he asked of the swarthy young man behind the counter.

"Yes, sare," grinned Tony. "What you drink?"

Brimmer looked over the stock, selected a bottle of ginger ale and paid for it.

"Business good?" asked the midshipman.

"No, sare; ver' bad," replied Tony sadly.

"Oh, well, it will pick up by-and-by."

"I hope so, sare. But when I come here I think maybe the midsheepmen come see me offen. You, sare, first midsheepman who came here."

"You have a neat little place," continued Brimmer. "And this ginger ale," holding up his glass, "is good. You'll have trade enough by-and-by."

"You tell other midsheepmen they come here, sare?" asked Tony hopefully.

"Why, yes; I think perhaps I can send you a bit of trade," replied Brimmer. The young man's father was a politician, and a prosperous one. The son had learned the wisdom of making friends wherever he could, since there could be no telling when a friend anywhere might be useful.

"You come with me, sare," urged Tony, taking a gentle hold on Brimmer's arm, and leading him to the rear of the store.

Tony threw open a door, revealing a rear room in which were three tables.

"Maybe midsheepmen like play cards, sometimes," suggested Tony, with a grin.

"Great!" cried Brimmer. "Yes; sometimes the fellows do like to know a quiet little place where they can have a good game without a discipline officer butting in. Good enough; I'll tell some of the fellows about this place; but you must keep it quiet, and not let anyone else into that room."

"For midsheepmen on'y," promised Tony solemnly.

"Good enough, then," smiled Mr. Brimmer. "I'll bring you a party as soon as possible."

"Then you make me your frien', sare," protested the Greek.

As Brimmer went strolling along the street, after that, a plan began rapidly to hatch in his mind. He thought he saw how Tony could made a most valuable ally.

As luck would have it, Brimmer was not long in meeting three midshipmen of rather wild tendencies. To them he proposed a quiet little game of cards. He led his classmates back to Tony's. Here they regaled themselves with ginger ale, then passed on into the rear room. For more than two hours the midshipmen remained here. Occasionally they called for more of the temperance drinks. As they left Brimmer passed Tony a two-dollar bill, for this midshipman disregarded the regulations in that he frequently received money from home and was always well supplied.

"Thank you, sare," cried Tony, bowing very low, indeed.

The following Saturday Brimmer returned to the little shop with a small party of friends.

Late that afternoon Tony was richer by a few dollars.

"You one ver' good frien', sare," protested the delighted Tony. "Me? I your ver' good frien', too. I do anything for you, sare—try me!"

"I'm getting Tony about where I want him," thought Mr. Brimmer. "Just a little more help to him, and then I'll spring my idea on him."

Thanksgiving had gone by, and now the Christmas Holidays were nearing. Brimmer was playing his game slowly, and without the slightest risk to himself. Tony must take all the risk. If the Greek got into any trouble Brimmer could deny all knowledge of the matter.

One Saturday afternoon, just before Christmas Midshipman Brimmer came down Main Street, looked in and found the Greek standing alone in his shop.

"Howdy, Tony," was the midshipman's greeting, as he sauntered into the store.

"Hullo, my good frien', sare."

"Wish you a Merry Christmas, Tony."

"I don' know, sare, I don' know," replied the Greek, shaking his head.

"Why, isn't business good now, Tony?"

"You do ver' much, my frien', to help make it better," replied Tony, shaking his head, "but still I not make much money."

"Are you hard up at Christmas, Tony?" asked Brimmer, with pretended sympathy.

"Oh, yes, sare; all time hard up."

At that moment Brimmer's gleaming eyes saw Dave Darrin and Dan Dalzell passing on the other side of the street.

"Quick, Tony! Get a look at my friends over there!" whispered Brimmer. "Take such a good look that you will know them again anywhere. Now, it's the one on the inside, especially. Note him sharply, Tony."

"I never mistake him again, sare, eff I see him," replied the Greek gravely.

"Do you see many of these ten-dollar bills nowadays, Tony?" questioned Brimmer, carelessly displaying a banknote.

The Greek shook his head wistfully.

"This is yours now, Tony; and twice as much more afterwards, if you do what I want of you. It's a good joke that I want to play on a midshipman down at the Academy."

"A joke, eh?" repeated the Greek. "Then, sare, my frien', it can't be anything so ver' bad, eef it only a joke."

"Oh, it isn't anything bad," Brimmer lied cheerfully. "But that fellow played a warm one on me, and I want to pay him back."

"I understand, sare, my ver' good frien'."

Inside of five minutes Tony understood very much better. Still, the Greek saw no real harm in what he now engaged himself to do.

That night Tony slept with Brimmer's ten-dollar note under his pillow. Dave Darrin slept as soundly as ever, unconscious of harm hanging over his head.

Midshipman Brimmer did much gleeful chuckling after taps, as he lay on the bed in the room that Henkel had once shared with him.

"Now, let's see anyone get a chance to bring this job back to me!" laughed Brimmer. "And goodby, Darrin! The Naval Academy won't know you much longer!"

XVII. TONY BAITS THE HOOK

Up to this time Darrin had dropped in at Tony's but once, and Dan not at all.

The Saturday after Christmas was an anxious one for nearly all of the midshipmen. Only a few availed themselves of any privilege of going into Annapolis this Saturday afternoon. Most of the young men remained in their rooms at Bancroft Hall, anxiously going over the work in which they were soon to take their semi-annual examinations.

Especially was this true of the fourth class men in the "wooden" or lowest sections. Most of these men knew that, if they succeeded in staying on at all, it would be by a very small margin indeed. Even the men in the "savvy sections," with the highest marks of their class, were eager to come out as well as possible in the dreaded semi-ans.

Dave and Dan both had secured permission to go into Annapolis.

"We'll want to clear out the cobwebs by a brisk walk, anyway," declared Darrin.

They did not intend to go townward, however, until rather late in the afternoon.

Dan, when he could stand the grind no longer picked up his cap. Dave wanted to put in least fifteen minutes more over his book.

"I've got to get out in the air," Dalzell muttered.

"Going to town?" Dave asked.

"Yes. Coming along?"

"I've got a little more in logarithms to clean up," murmured Darrin, looking wistfully at two pages in one of his text-books on mathematics. "Will it do as well, Danny boy, if I follow in fifteen or twenty minutes?"

"Yes; you'll probably find me on Main Street, though you can look in at Wiegard's on the way."

Wiegard's is the famous confectionery shop where cadets go for candy, for ices or soda fountain drinks. If upper class men and young ladies are plentiful in Wiegard's, however, prudent fourth class men keep right on without stopping.

Dan left Bancroft Hall quite certain that his chum would not be along for at least an hour.

At the gate Dan made his report of liberty, then kept on up Maryland Avenue.

As he turned into State Circle he slowed up a trifle, glancing in through the door at Wiegard's.

"Too many upper class men in there for me," decided Dan, so turning he made his was way through the State Capitol grounds, and on into Main Street.

Here he strolled more slowly, passing, here and there, a member of his class, though none with whom he was particularly intimate.

"I'm thirsty," decided Dalzell. "I don't believe I want any of the hot drinks. There's Tony's. I'll drop in and get a bottle of soda lemonade."

Tony saw the fourth classman coming, and a peculiar smile crossed his lips. On the occasion on which Brimmer had pointed out the chums to the Greek the latter had understood that it was Dan who was to be the principal victim.

"Good afternoon, Tony!" was Dan's greeting, as he stepped into the shop. "Merry Christmas."

"Thank you, sare, good frien'," was Tony's reply. Then the Greek turned briefly, to hide a grin.

"Crowd seems to have left you, Tony," said Dan sympathetically.

"Save their money to buy present for girls," guessed the Greek.

"Tony, have you a small bottle of lemon soda that's good and cold?"

"Oh, yes, sare."

"Then I want it."

Tony fumbled among bottles clinking in ice under the counter. At last he found what he wanted and held the bottle up to the capping machine. Then the Greek did something unusual. Instead of emptying the bottle into a glass on the counter he performed that service underneath the counter. Next he held the glass up full of bright, cold liquid filled with bubble and sparkle.

"It makes me thirstier to look at this," muttered Dan, picking up the glass. "I'll get it down as soon as I can."

He sipped the last out of the glass, put do a coin to pay for it, and stood, for a moment, chatting with Tony.

"Excuse me, sare," broke in the Greek, suddenly. "I hear ma wife call me."

Opening a door behind him Tony stepped into a hallway.

The short December afternoon was drawing to a close. Standing in the shop Dan saw that the light in the street was growing less.

"I'll walk a little further down the street," thought Dan. "Then I'll turn back, and keep on toward State Circle, and look for Dave."

As he took the first step away from the store Dalzell noticed a slight feeling of dizziness.

After a moment this passed off, but soon it came on again, heavier than before.

"What ails me?" wondered the astonished midshipman. "It can't be that I'm turning sick, for I've been feeling fine all along."

He tried the effect of will power, holding himself as erect as he could and trying to walk slowly in a straight line.

Then, though he did not realize it, three or four passers-by turned to look at the unsteady young man in a midshipman's uniform.

Two men passing in an auto runabout glanced quickly at Dan.

"Look at that fool midshipman, throwing away a great future for a few glasses of strong drink," he remarked to his companion. Then the auto sped on.

As for Dan Dalzell, he no longer understood clearly what was happening.

At this lower end of Main Street, on which he was now moving, there were not many people astir. One there was behind him, however—Tony, the Greek, following stealthily on his trail.

At last, as Dalzell reached the head of a short, narrow alleyway Tony caught up with him in the darkness that had now fallen.

A quick shove Tony gave the midshipman, and Dan, helpless, staggered into the alleyway, tripped and fell.

Tony passed on as though he had merely accidentally jostled another.

Then, in an instant he wheeled, went back the head of the alley and glanced in.

Dan Dalzell was lying still, in a complete stupor.

With a chuckle the Greek drew a small bottle from one of his pockets, taking out the stopper and throwing it away. Then he began sprinkling the contents on Dan's uniform coat with energy.

At that instant there was a quick step outside. Then Dave Darrin, tall, handsome, and even distinguished-looking in the uniform that he wore so well, bounded in, gripping the Greek's right arm in a tight grasp.

"You rascal!" vibrated Dave's angry voice. "What are you doing here?"

It being darker in the alleyway than it was outside, Tony did not recognize his captor. Dave towered so in his wrath that the Greek took him to be an officer of the Navy.

"Speak up, before I shake the truth out of you!" warned Darrin. "Do you understand that this is a crime, you knave, and that I can place you under arrest and have you sent to the penitentiary for years?"

Tony was now sure that he was in the clutch of a Naval officer. Moreover, Darrin's grip was one that spoke of more muscular strength held in reserve.

"Let me go, sare!" begged the Greek, squirming. "This ees all one joke. I do ze man no harm."

For answer, Dave used his left hand to snatch away the bottle that Tony still held.

"Alcohol!" detected Dave, and hurled the bottle to the other end of the alleyway. "And you have been sprinkling it on this midshipman's uniform? You are the fellow who runs the temperance drinks place? A nice business for you to be in—drugging midshipmen and trying to ruin them! To prison you go, unless you limber up your tongue. Who put you up to this miserable business? Talk quickly—or off to a cell you go!"

This was pure bluff, as Dave, being under twenty-one, had no right to make an arrest, even as a citizen. But he saw that he had the Greek scared, and he resolved to push his advantage to the limit.

"Talk this instant, or to the police station you go!" warned Dave. "Then it will be years before you are a free man again."

"Mercy, Captain!" howled the frightened Greek.

"Then out with the whole truth like lightning!" ordered Dave Darrin.

He accompanied his order with a shaking that made the Greek's teeth rattle.

"Stop, sare, stop! I tell you!" whined Tony.

"Go ahead, then, you brute."

"You know Midsheepman Brimmer?"

"I know him," repeated Dave.

"He tell me, sare, about one joke. He geev me bottle of stuff, and he tell me when this midsheepman, or his friend, come in my place I am to put half of stuff in the bottle in one glass of what the midsheepman order. Then I am to follow the midsheepman out, and watch him until he fall. I am also to have bottle of alcohol with me and sprinkle some on the midsheepman when he fall and lie still. Then I am to go away and let the midsheepman be found. It is to be one grand joke on the midsheepman."

"Give me what is left of the bottle of stuff that Midshipman Brimmer gave you to put in the drink," commanded Dave sternly.

Tony's first impulse was to deny that he had the vial with him. But Darrin's grip on the fellow's arm tightened so alarmingly that the Greek thrust his left hand down into a trousers pocket, then produced the vial, which Darrin pocketed.

"So this is Brimmer's work—and Brimmer was at one time Henkel's roommate and crony!" flashed swiftly through Darrin's mind. "Oh, the scoundrel!"

"Some one ees coming, sare," warned Tony. "Let me go, sare."

"Stay where you are, and don't dare make a move to get away," warned Darrin. "It would do you no good, anyway. I know where to find you."

Then Darrin peeped cautiously out at the head of the alley. Some one was coming, and that some one wore the Naval uniform. Dave's heart began to beat faster. Then the wearer the uniform passed the light from a store window, and his face was briefly revealed. Darrin's heart, for a few seconds, seemed almost to stop beating. For it was Brimmer himself!

Further up in the town that midshipman had heard a fleeting word, uttered by some one, about a staggering midshipman having been seen going down Main Street.

"A dollar to a doughnut it's Darrin himself! flashed exultantly through Brimmer's mind. He hurried on, though careful to avoid the appearance of haste.

"I wish Henkel were here at this moment!" thought Brimmer. "Oh, it will be great to see that sneak, Darrin—"

Just at that moment Brimmer stopped short, with something like a gasp.

For he did see Darrin, standing before him, towering in his wrath.

XVIII. IN THE DAYS OF "OLD TWO-FIVE"

Before Brimmer could utter a word Darrin pounced upon him, seizing him by the collar and fairly dragging him into the alleyway.

Then, still gripping his astounded, dismayed foe, Darrin demanded:

"Tony, is this the fellow who paid you to drug my friend?

"The treacherous Greek has betrayed me!" was the thought that flashed instantly through Brimmer's startled mind.

"Let go of my collar, Darrin!" he commanded loudly. "If this lying Greek has dared to say that I—"

"Shut up!" ordered Dave tersely.

Ever since coming to Annapolis he had tried to keep his temper in the background. But now, quivering in his righteous wrath, Darrin was once more the hot-headed, impulsive, generous Dave of old—a doer of deeds, and a thrasher of scoundrels.

"No, no, no!" protested Tony, shrilly and cunningly. "Mr. Brimmer, he no tell me—he no hire me—"

"Be silent, fellow!" commanded Dave Darrin hotly. "You've told the truth once. Don't spoil it with a dozen lies! Brimmer, you dastard, you disgrace to the noble old uniform—"

By a quick, forceful twist Brimmer had freed himself from Dave's frantic clutch.

It availed the plotter but little, however.

Quick as a flash Dave let drive with his right fist, landing a blow on the chest that sent Mr. Brimmer flat to the pavement of the alley.

"You coward! You—" screamed Brimmer, as he rose.

But no sooner was he on his feet than Dave planted a terrific blow over his left eye.

Down went Brimmer again, his eyes closed "until further notice."

"Don't try to get up!" warned Darrin, crouching over his enemy. "If you make a move upward, until I'm through talking, I'll kick you clean over the town of Annapolis and far out into Chesapeake Bay. Brimmer, if you send me a challenge when we get back to Bancroft Hall, I won't pay any attention to it until after the class has passed on the merits of the case. If you want to fight here and now I'll let you up and we'll settle it right off. But no formal fight, under decent auspices. You hear me? You understand?"

Brimmer made no reply.

"All right, then," nodded Dave. "I understand that you don't want to fight here. Don't try to provoke me into a formal fight, at the Naval Academy, unless you are prepared to defend your side before a class committee. Now get up and take yourself away—you infamous hound!"

Tony, in the meantime, had swiftly vanished. The Greek's change of front, in denying his charge against Brimmer, had been prompted by craft.

"Meester Brimmer, he pay me, now, not twenty dollars, but all the money he have, and all he can get," chuckled the rascally Greek. "Otherwise, he be afraid I tell too much, and he get the double-queeck out of the Naval Acadeemy!"

Brimmer, boiling with helpless rage, got up and made off as quickly as he could. He would have fought, on the spot, but knew that with one eye closed, and giving him great pain, he would be but a football for the strenuous Darrin.

And now Dave bent over his chum, who, still unconscious, was breathing heavily.

"He's in no immediate danger," breathed Darrin, in great relief. Then, hearing wheels, he stepped to the end of the alleyway. As if in answer to his prayer the vehicle turned ont to be a cab, and without a fare.

"Driver, I need you here!" called Dave, and the cab rolled in at the curb.

"Follow me," directed Darrin, leading the way up the alley

Catching sight of the prostrate midshipman the driver grinned.

"No, he's not intoxicated!" flashed out Darrin half angrily. "This is all a trick. Help me lift him into your cab. Then drive us to the best physician in the town."

Dan was propped in place on the back seat, Darrin beside him.

"Give me the card of your stable, driver," Dave requested. "I haven't money enough to pay you, but I'll write and have my father send you the amount of your bill."

"That'll be all right, sir," nodded the driver who knew the ways of midshipmen, and who also knew that such a "risk" was a safe one.

A few minutes later the cab stopped before the residence of Dr. Stewart.

"See if the doctor is in," directed Darrin.

The physician was at home, and not engaged. So Dave and the driver carried Dan into the medical man's office.

"Too bad!" murmured the physician. "Intoxicated, eh?

"No, sir," responded Dave quietly, "and that's one of the things I wish you to note positively, so that you can be prepared to certify if necessary. This is the stuff, I believe, with which my friend was drugged."

Dave passed over the vial Tony had handed him. Dr. Stewart smelled the contents, then touched the bottle lightly to his tongue. Next he stepped over to a cabinet, poured a small quantity of the liquid into a test tube and did some hurried experimenting.

"The regulation knockout drops," he smiled grimly. "Now, help me to take off your friend's overcoat. Whew! There is the smell of alcohol here!

"Only on the overcoat, I guess, doctor," suggested Dave. "You don't notice any on my friend's breath, do you?

"No," replied the doctor.

"There has been a plot on foot to make it appear that my friend had been indulging in liquor. Doctor, I hope you can prove positively that such was not the case."

"I shall have to pump the young man's stomach out. That is the first step in getting him back to consciousness. That will also show convincingly whether he has been using alcoholic drinks."

Within three minutes Dr. Stewart was positive that Dan had not been using strong drink.

Soon after Dan regained consciousness. Dr. Stewart quickly gave him something to restore his faculties.

Catching sight of the office clock Dave broke in:

"Doctor, if it is barely possible, we must be back for supper formation. Can you fix it?"

"I think so," nodded the physician. "You can help. Turn on that electric fan and place your friend's uniform overcoat where the fan will play upon it. That will drive away most of the smell of alcohol."

"Alcohol?" mumbled Dan wonderingly.

"Don't try to think, now, Mr. Dalzell," ordered the physician. "Mr. Darrin will explain to you later."

Dan lay on the lounge, the physician keeping a finger on his pulse. Presently the man of medicine gave Dan another drink of restorative. "Now, get up and walk to the back of the room with me," commanded the physician. "Here, I'll throw this window up. Now, take in as deep breaths as you can."

Dave, in the meantime, was standing near fan attending to driving the fumes from his friend's coat.

A few minutes later Dr. Stewart gave Dalzell a third draught. Dan was now recovering steadily from his mental numbness.

"You can take your friend away safely, now," declared Dr. Stewart, at last. "He can thank a strong constitution for recovering so quickly under treatment."

"Shall I take him near the gate in a cab, or walk him there?" asked Darrin.

"It will bring about his recovery more completely if he walks."

"Pardon me for a moment, then, and I'll go outside and release the driver."

Then, returning, Darrin added:

"Doctor, if you'll hand me your bill, Mr. Dalzell will see that his father remits to you."

Dr. Stewart nodded, wrote the bill, and passed it over. It was not by any means the first time that the physician had done business on that basis.

"A fairly brisk walk, gentlemen, will be best," said the doctor, at the street door. "Good evening—and good luck."

"Another Naval mystery, I suppose," smiled the physician, as he turned back to his office. "But I shall never hear from it again, except when the remittance arrives from the young man's father."

Arriving at the Maryland Avenue gate of the Academy grounds Dave turned in report for both of them. Then the chums continued across to Bancroft Hall.

Midshipman Brimmer was reported absent, but accounted for, at that supper formation. At that moment Brimmer was undergoing a Naval surgeon's treatment for his eye. Brimmer's brief explanation to the surgeon was that he had run his face against something hard in a dark alleyway while in town. The surgeon noted down the explanation, smiling grimly.

That being Saturday evening, with release from studies, Dave slipped down to the door of Farley and Page, and invited them to his quarters. There sat Dan.

Both Farley and Page listened almost in stupefaction. They had always rather liked Brimmer. Yet they were convinced that Darrin spoke the truth.

"Now, help me with your advice," begged Dave. "Should I make an official report of this whole matter?

"Not until you have stronger evidence against Brimmer," suggested Farley.

"Would it do any good to ask for a class committee, and to bring Brimmer before it?"

"Not until you have a better case to offer," replied Page.

"Then what should I do?"

"Cut Brimmer, of course," said Farley thoughtfully. "And don't let him guess that you're going to let up at any point of the investigation into the matter."

"We won't let up, either," blazed Dave, "if we can think of any way to probe the facts.

"I don't believe it will do much good to fool with Tony, the Greek," suggested Midshipman Page. "Brimmer has more money than any of us, and he'll pay blackmail to keep Tony's tongue quiet."

It was Tuesday when Midshipman Brimmer returned to formations. Immediately after breakfast Dave Darrin went up to him.

"Mr. Brimmer, I want a word with you."

"I don't want any words with you, at any time, Mr. Darrin," Brimmer retorted bitterly.

"You won't have any that are not necessary," retorted Dave. "Yet I think it will be to your advantage to step aside and hear what I have to say now."

"Make it very short, then."

"Mr. Brimmer," continued Darrin, when they were by themselves, "all I have to say is to confirm the language that I used to you the other evening. Further, I will say that you are quite at liberty to report me for having assaulted you. Or, you may ask for a class committee to investigate this affair between us. The last that I have to say is that I have the vial of knockout stuff that you gave Tony to serve to Dalzell and myself, and I have also expert testimony as to the nature of the stuff. Nor do I mind admitting to you that Dalzell and I are going to go as far as we can in getting the evidence that; will warrant our making an official report your scoundrelly conduct. If possible we shall bring about your dismissal from the Naval Academy."

Brimmer's eyes flashed. Yet in the next minute the yellow streak in him showed. His lip quivered, and he begged, brokenly:

"Darrin, show a little mercy. Would you care to be kicked out of the Academy?"

"Not any more than Dalzell would have liked it," replied Dave dryly.

"Then you must realize that it would spoil my life, too."

"Mr. Brimmer," retorted Darrin sternly, "it is no longer a question of what your feelings in the matter may be. The plain fact is that you are not a gentlemen—not honorable. You are not fit to be the comrade of gentlemen. You are a profanation of the uniform of the United States. It is for the good of the service, far more than for any personal enmity, that several of us have resolved to keep on the hunt for evidence until we get a complete enough lot to drive you away from Annapolis."

Finding that coaxing was of no avail Brimmer became surly.

At the first opportunity for liberty to go into town Dave, Dan and Farley went abruptly to Tony, the Greek, questioning him insistently. Tony, however, would not say a word beyond stolidly denying that he had had any part in the plot, and that he had ever said so.

Tony had abundant reasons for his silence. He had promptly demanded two hundred dollars from Brimmer, and the latter had sent post haste to his father for the money, explaining only that he needed it to "buy his way out of a scrape."

The money now rested in Tony's pocket.

Dave, Dan, Farley and Page tried hard, however, in other directions, to secure the need evidence. There was no druggists' label on the vial, so these four midshipmen visited all the druggists in Annapolis, seeking light on the matter. The druggists, however, denied any knowledge of the vial or of its contents.

Now, the friends appeared to be up against a dead wall of difficulty. They did not cease their efforts, however, and held many conferences behind closed doors.

Brimmer kept track of their activities as best he could. He became moody, and slackened in his studies.

After that the semi-annual examinations came on. Dave passed better than he had hoped, making two-nine as his standing.

Dalzell was forced to be content with two-seven, but as two-five was a high enough mark for passing Dan was delighted. Farley and Page got through safely, and that was all.

Fifty-nine of the men of the fourth class were dropped for failing to keep up to the two-five standard.

And one of these was Midshipman Brimmer. He and the other unlucky ones left for their homes as soon as the results had been announced.

Brimmer would have passed, in all probability, had he not been unstrung by the knowledge that four of his comrades were working to secure the evidence which should warrant his expulsion from the Naval Academy. Oppressed by dread, this young scoundrel was not capable of doing his best work at the semi-annuals.

So Brimmer left as Henkel had done. The only difference was that Brimmer did not have to slink away to the tune of "The Rogue's March."

"You're past the worst of it, now, mister," murmured Youngster Trotter, in passing Dave. "You'll win through hereafter."

But Dave Darrin could hardly help feeling that his greatest thankfulness was over the fact that the poisonous pair, Henkel and Brimmer, were both out of the Navy for good and all.

XIX. THE COLLISION ON THE CHESAPEAKE

The weeks slipped by quickly now.

Athletics cannot occupy as prominent a place at Annapolis as at the universities and colleges, for the midshipmen must, above all, be sure that they stand high enough in their academic work. Dave and Dan were both invited out for baseball try-out, but both asked to be excused.

Dan, by himself, would have gone in for the Navy nine, and doubtless would have made it.

It was Darrin, the cautious, who dissuaded Dalzell.

"Better shy away from athletics, Danny boy, until you've made your academic footing secure," was Dave's advice.

"You didn't talk that way in the High School," argued Dan.

"No; there the athletics were more necessary, if we were to keep in condition. Here athletics may be regarded as the luxury, which we are not yet entitled. Here, with the gym work, the fencing, the drills under arms and the boat drills, we're kept in the pink of physical condition without need for special training."

"Next year, when we feel absolutely solid in our marks, we can go in for athletics, if we wish, Dan."

So Dalzell gave in. He was beginning to realize that his chum had a "long" head and that his advice was always good.

With the coming of spring the boat drills were resumed in earnest.

Dave, standing well in "grease," now, became captain of one of the boat crews, for he had developed unusual skill in boat handling.

One bright afternoon in the latter part of April, while half of the brigade marched off to instruction on shore, the other half marched down to the docks beyond the seamanship building.

Here the members of the third class embarked in the steam launches each craft representing a war vessel—for fleet drill.

The fourth class men embarked, by crews, in the sailboats.

As each captain gave the order to shove clear of the dock the mainsail was hoisted. Then each crew captain kept one eye on the watch for the signals of the instructor, who was aboard a boat designated as the flagship.

The sail was downstream. Beyond Annapolis some pretty manoeuvering work was done. While this drill was proceeding, however, the wind died out considerably. Then, light as the breeze was, the youthful crew captains were forced to beat back against almost a head wind.

There being no signs of squalls or puffs, the crew captains did not seem to need to exercise much caution. The members of the crews stood indolently at their stations.

Yet Dave was as alert as ever. He stood close to the midshipman tillerman, looking constantly for signals from the flagship, and at the same time watchful for any wind signs.

An hour or more they had proceeded thus. Some of Dave's boat crew, who had been making a lark of their nearly becalmed condition now began to demur over the prospect of getting back late for supper.

"The steam-launch fleet might show up and give us a tow," grumbled Farley.

Dave smiled and said nothing. He was as eager as any midshipman in the boat to have his supper on time, but he felt that the crew captain must appear above any sign of complaint untoward fate.

For a moment or so Darrin turned to look aft at the weather.

"Motor boat 'John Duncan' on the port bow, two points off and bearing this way, sir," reported the bow watch.

Darrin turned quickly, bending to glance under the boom, for the mainsail was in his way.

What he saw made him dart quickly forward, to take up his stand by the mast.

"Pass me the megaphone, Mr. Dalzell," he requested.

With this mouth-piece in hand, Dave watched the nearing craft.

The "Duncan" was a semi-speed boat, some forty-five feet over all, without cabin, and carrying only a sprayhood forward to protect its engine.

Two men appeared in the boat—Mr Salisbury, the owner, and his engineer. The latter was steering at this time.

Chug-chug-chug! came the fast craft.

Dave waited, well knowing that his hail could not carry to either engineer or owner over the noise that the "Duncan's" engine was making.

Farley stood close to Dave watching. The tillerman also had his eye on the approaching craft. The other midshipmen, telling stories or staring out over the water, paid little heed. There could be no danger from the motor boat. Both the owner and engineer were well known, in these waters, as capable boat handlers and as men of judgment.

Darrin, himself, did not believe that there was any danger.

"Throw her head a point and a half off to the starboard," called Dave Darrin evenly.

"Aye, aye, sir," responded the midshipman tillerman, and the sailboat responded slowly under the slight headway.

"Great Scott, don't those fellows know that a sailboat has the right of way over a power craft?" demanded Darrin suddenly.

"Perhaps they're going to see how close they can come to us without hitting us," remarked Farley.

Dave raised the megaphone to his lips, waiting until he judged that there was a chance of his hail being heard.

"Duncan, 'ahoy!" bellowed Darrin. "Go to port of us!"

Still the motor boat came onward, at a speed something better than fourteen miles.

"Hard-a-starboard!" Darrin roared back to his own tillerman.

Then he repeated his hail. He was almost frenzied now; for the motor boat had not yet changed its course.

Suddenly, when the two craft were almost together, the engineer, after throwing over his wheel, held up one hand.

Before Dave could guess what the gesture meant, the "Duncan" loomed up on the sail-boat's port bow, coming on at unabated speed.

There was an instant scampering of midshipmen for safety. Then bump! the motor boat's bow crashed into the sailboat, cutting a great gap in her.

The force of the shock threw most of the midshipmen into the water. The rest jumped.

Now, the "Duncan" responded to her engine by backing off. But the motor boat, too, had received her deathblow. Ere she had backed off a hundred and fifty feet she began to fill rapidly. Owner and engineer had only time to adjust life-preservers and leap overboard. Then the "Duncan" went down.

At the moment of collision there was a crash of spars and a snapping of cordage. The sailing craft's mast had gone by the board, though not much before the sailboat itself had filled.

Dave himself was pitched headlong. He sank below the water, but had no fear for himself, for he was wholly at home in the water.

Yet, as he found the water closing over him, Dave Darrin felt a great thrill of terror for others run through him.

"My boat crew is the poorest in the class in swimming!" he gasped, with a throb of agony. "Not more than half of them know how to take care of themselves! And I, as captain, am responsible for their safety!"

XX. IN THE LINE OF DUTY

As his head shot above the water a Dave barely paused to expel the water from his mouth.

"Boat's crew close together, to stand by the poor swimmers!" he yelled hoarsely.

The water being barely ruffled, Darrin was able to count eight heads besides his own.

That meant that five men had still failed to come up.

Midshipman Driscoll, an instant later, shot up beside Dave.

"Help!" sputtered Driscoll.

"Float on my arm, sir," ordered Dave, swimming with lusty strokes until he had thrust his left arm under Driscoll's chest.

Then the young crew captain shouted:

"Who can get here first to support Mr. Driscoll."

"Here!" called another midshipman, overtaking the pair with lusty strokes.

"Keep Mr. Driscoll up," called Dave, as he swam away. "I've got to count heads fast."

Another midshipman came above water, and Dan Dalzell was at him, like a flash, supporting the new arrival, who was one of the poor swimmers.

That left three men to be accounted for.

Further down the stream still another head appeared. Only for a moment or two, this midshipman succeeded in keeping his head above water.

"I'll get that man," cried Farley, as he and another midshipman started with powerful strokes after the man who was going down for the second time.

"There's a seat floating!" shouted Dalzell.

Darrin plunged forward for it, until he saw one of his crew nearing it ahead of him.

"Hold that as a life-buoy!" called Dave.

Hardly had he given this order when another midshipman made himself heard, as he trod water.

The board was pushed toward him, while Dave made a rapid count.

"All up but Mr. Page;" muttered Dave, but even that thought made him sick at heart.

Only a few moments had passed, but that was time enough for any man to come to the surface if his buoyancy remained.

Darrin had paid no heed to Mr. Salisbury or the latter's engineer, for he had seen them jumping for their life-preservers.

In the meantime the other boats of the sailing fleet were making for the scene of the disaster. Yet, with the light breeze, that was no easy thing to do. It would take some time yet to bring the nearest of the sailing fleet to the scene.

Signals had been sprung to the steam-launch fleet, but the launches were far down the bay, and many minutes must pass before relief could be looked for from that quarter. Two or three of the sailboats would, in fact, be at hand first.

Though there were some excellent swimmer among the wrecked midshipmen, the best of these were already standing by midshipmen who did not swim well. Dave Darrin was the only one free to go to Page's assistance should he show up.

"Every man keep his eyes peeled for Mr. Page!" shouted Dave. "We simply can't stand the loss of any member of the crew!"

"There's a hat!" cried Dan, a few moments later. "Can you make it out, sir."

Dalzell was pointing further down the bay.

"A cap, yes," called Dave, striking out lustily for the spot. "But I don't see any head there. Watch, all of you, and give me a hail if you see Mr. Page's head show up anywhere."

Midshipman Farley was in agony over the thought of the loss of his roommate. Yet Farley was at this time engaged in standing by a less-skilled swimmer.

"That looks like a face, fifteen yards west from the cap!" shouted one of the crew.

Dave Darrin made the greatest spring, he could up out of the water. It gave him a chance for a better view.

"I see the face!" he roared back. "Look after yourselves. I'll get in close to Mr. Page."

Dave swam as he had never done before, taking swift yet long, powerful strokes. He reached the spot, only to see what he had taken for a face sink slowly below the surface.

"That must be the second time going down!" throbbed Darrin, with a feeling of horror.

More powerfully than ever he surged forward. He was too late to catch another glimpse of the white face. But he had noted the point at which it had sunk.

Taking a breath, Darrin took a dive downward, duck fashion. Holding his breath, he went below, his eyes wide open, seeking as best he could.

Down where the light of day reached him poorly Darrin caught sight of something floating slowly past. It might have been a fish, for all the sense of shape that reached Dave.

With an inward prayer the young crew captain surged downward and forward. He grappled with—something—then fought his way the surface, holding that something tightly.

As they shot above the water Darrin's blood danced for joy.

It was Page—"good old Page!"—whom he had brought to the top.

"Got him safe?" bellowed Farley, over the water.

Dave was too winded to answer. He thrust one hand above his head, waving it joyfully. Then he let the hand fall that he might better attend to his work.

For a few moments they floated there. The nearest of the sailing cutters was now nearing the victims of the wreck.

The boat, however, would reach Darrin last of all.

While Darrin watched Farley and three others clambering aboard the rescuing boat, the young crew captain trod water, supporting Page at the same time.

Then Page opened his eyes, as though returning from a faint, rather than reviving from a partial drowning.

"Hold me tight!" gasped Page, almost in a whisper. "I'm a fearfully poor swimmer."

"I know," nodded Dave, "but I've got you, and I never let go of a good thing."

Darrin's heart throbbed gratefully. All of the boat crew were accounted for; not a man of his command lost.

Further off he could see Mr. Salisbury and the engineer of the foundered power boat, each held up by a life-preserve.

But, though all of the wrecked middies were afloat, they were as yet by no means safe. Some were so helpless that every man who could keep himself afloat and help another was thus engaged.

Dave, after his strong exertions, found himself rapidly "playing out." If help did not soon reach him he felt that he would be exhausted.

"Can't you help yourself a little more, Mr. Page?" he asked.

Unnoticed by Darrin, Midshipman Page had been slowly relapsing into unconsciousness. In the collision Page had been hit glancingly on the head by the gaff of the falling mainsail.

Page heard Dave's query with a muddled mind. All he grasped was that Darrin was doubtful of his ability to keep them both up.

In an agony of unreasoning, stupefied dread, Midshipman Page swiftly wound both arms around Dave Darrin.

"Here!" commanded the young captain the crew. "Don't do that!"

But Page either did not hear or did not heed. His arms clung more desperately around Dave, binding one of the latter's arms to his body.

"He'll drown both of us!" was the thought that flashed instantly through Midshipman Darrin's mind.

There was no time to think of more. Before he realized that the thing was happening Darrin felt the waters close over his head.

Both midshipmen were going down. While Darrin's mind was fully alive to the situation Page, a gallant fellow at heart, and thoroughly brave, was now unwittingly carrying his comrade down with him to death.

Nor, in the first moments, did any of the other midshipmen note the tragic happening.

It was not long, however, before Dan Dalzell's agonized query shot over the waters:

"Where's grand old Darrin?"

Dan groaned with his helplessness. For Dan was, at that instant, holding up one of the poor swimmers, to leave whom would be to abandon him to death.

XXI. OFFICIAL AND OTHER REPORT

When under the water, and in imminent danger of drowning, seconds count as hours.

If they perished, now, Page would be spared the deep horror of it all, for his mind was already clouded again through his recent injuries.

He retained only consciousness enough to fight like a dying wild beast.

With one of Darrin's arms pinioned Page seemed fighting to get the other in an equal state of helplessness.

Dave fought to free himself. Yet he did not struggle too hard.

"If I free myself abruptly, I may lose Page!" was the thought that rushed through his brain.

To free himself of his comrade in order to get to the surface alone and safe was furthest from the young midshipman's mind.

"It's a tough fix, but I'm going to get Page to the surface, or stay down here with him!" throbbed Dave.

They were near enough to the surface to enable Darrin to see his comrade, though not with much clearness.

Down under the water all forms looked indistinct.

While Darrin struggled cautiously his mind worked fast.

It would have been easy enough to choke Page into insensibility, but that would cause the unreasoning midshipman to open his mouth, insuring his drowning.

Suddenly Dave saw his chance! He made up his mind at once.

Swiftly moving his free hand back, he struck Page on the forehead with his clenched fist.

At that moment, Page began to fight harder to keep them both down. But Darrin struck him again on the head with his fist.

The injured midshipman now collapsed, senseless.

Cautiously though swiftly Dave freed himself, got a left hand grip on the collar of Page's blouse, and with his right hand struck out for the surface.

His feet aided. With joy Dave saw the water overhead growing lighter and lighter. Then his face shot up into the life-giving air.

Darrin took in a great gulp of it, then turned to make sure that the unconscious Page's mouth was above water.

Close at hand one of the sailboats of the fleet was bearing down upon them.

"There are Mr. Darrin and Mr. Page!" shouted a voice.

Splash! splash! Two classmates were over in the water, swimming superbly toward the exhausted Dave.

"Keep up a moment or two longer, Mr. Darrin!" hailed the voice of Midshipman Hallam encouragingly.

All these young midshipmen were on duty. Therefore, throughout the mishap and its attendant circumstances the ceremonious use of "Mr." had been followed.

"Won't I keep up, though!" thrilled Dave, as he heard the cheering hail.

All but forgetting himself, Dave turned to make sure that Page's mouth was kept above water.

"Let me have Mr. Page!" called out Midshipman Botkin, ranging up alongside and taking charge of Darrin's burden.

"How are you, Mr. Darrin? Enjoy a little help?" queried Midshipman Hallam, throwing out a supporting arm to his classmate.

"I'm nearly all in," confessed Dave, with a ghastly smile.

"But not all in? Good enough! Get hold of my arm, and don't try to do much more than float. They're gathering the men in fast, now."

Two sailboats were now engaged in the work of rescue, and a third was heading for Mr. Salisbury and his engineer.

In almost no time, it seemed, Dave and Page, and their supporters, were hauled into one of the boats.

"Give Mr. Page first aid for the injured—quick!" urged Dave, almost in a whisper. "He has gone close to being drowned."

Hardly had he spoken the words when Darrin's own eyes closed. The strain had been too much for him.

When the steam launches came up, Dave and Page, as well as the other drenched fourth class men, were transferred, and fast time was made back to the dock.

Mr. Salisbury and his engineer were also taken back by steam power. The owner of the launch had a most satisfactory explanation to offer.

He and his engineer had both believed that they had abundant room in which to clear the sailboat. When, at last, they had tried their helm, it was found that the steering gear had broken. There was no way in which to change the course of the motor boat in time. The reversing gear was promptly used, but it was impossible to stop headway and dart back before the collision came.

It was accident, and that was all there was to it. Yet, had it not been for Darrin's prompt judgment, and the cool conduct of some of the members of his crew, there might easily have been some fatalities to report among the midshipmen.

As it was, nothing but Darrin's splendid conduct had saved Midshipman Page from speedy death by drowning.

Dave opened his eyes on his way back to Annapolis. Page, however though he was "pumped dry" of the water that he had involuntarily swallowed, remained in a stupefied condition all the way back.

An ambulance had been signaled for, and was waiting at the dock.

"I don't want to go to hospital, sir," Dave objected weakly.

"You'll come with me, Mr. Darrin," responded the Naval surgeon, without argument. "Of course we can discharge you at any time we find you strong enough for duty."

So Dave was taken to hospital, stripped, rubbed down, put to bed and dosed with hot drinks.

Midshipman Page was put on the cot next to Dave's. Now the surgeons discovered the injury that had been done Page's head by the falling gaff.

Some four hours later Commander Jephson, commandant of midshipmen, came through the hospital, accompanied by Lieutenant Edgecombe, who had been the sailing instructor of the afternoon.

"Good evening, Mr. Darrin," was the commandant's very cordial greeting.

"Good evening, sir."

"Good evening, Mr. Darrin," came from Lieutenant Edgecombe, which greeting Dave also acknowledged.

"The surgeon says, Mr. Darrin, that you are fit to do some talking," continued the commandant.

"I am certain of that, sir," smiled Darrin. "In fact, my only trouble is that the surgeon insists on my staying here tonight."

"Then it is an official order, and can't be dodged," laughed the commandant pleasantly. "But, Mr. Darrin, you were crew captain this afternoon. Lieutenant Edgecombe wishes to secure your official report of the accident. He will reduce it to writing, read it over to you, a then you will sign it."

"Very good, sir," responded Dave briefly.

The Navy lieutenant's questions drew out only the simplest account of the affair. Of all the heavy, swift work he had done for the safety of his crew after the foundering Dave gave only the barest sketch. Lieutenant Edgecombe then wrote down a brief, dry recital of fact, read it over, and Darrin signed it.

During this time the commandant of midshipmen had sat by, a quiet listener.

"Mr. Darrin," said Commander Jephson, at last, "I am obliged to say that, in some respects, your report does not agree with that of members of your crew."

"I have made a truthful statement, sir, just as I recall the incidents of the affair," replied Dave, flushing to the temples.

"Don't jump too speedily at false conclusions, Mr. Darrin," cautioned the commandant. "My remark is founded on the statement, made by other midshipmen of your crew, that you displayed the utmost judgment and coolness, with great bravery added. That you clung to Mr. Page to the last, and even went below with him at the almost certain risk of being drowned yourself."

"You didn't expect me, sir, to include any praise of myself, in my official report?" questioned Darrin.

"You have me there, Mr. Darrin," laughed the commandant, while the lieutenant turned to hide a smile. "I am quite satisfied with your official report, but I wish to ask you some questions, on my own account, about your own experience in rescuing Mr. Page."

This it took some minutes to draw out. Darrin did not balk, nor try to conceal anything, but he had a natural aversion to singing his own praises, and answered questions only sparingly at first. Yet, at last, the commandant succeeded in drawing out a story, bit by bit, that made the old seadog's eyes glisten with pride.

"Mr. Darrin," announced the commandant, "from experience and observation, through a rather long life in the Navy, I am able to state that the kind of courage which enables a man go down in drowning with a comrade, sooner than leave the comrade to his fate, is the highest type of courage known among brave men!"

"You must have been aware, Mr. Darrin," added Lieutenant Edgecombe, "that you were taking at least ninety-nine chances in a hundred of offering up your life."

"Gentlemen," replied Dave, rather restless under so much praise, "I have signed under the Flag, to give my life up for it at any time in the line of duty. Does it make very much difference in which year I turn that life over to the Flag?"

"Edgecombe," said the commandant, rather huskily, as the two officers left the hospital, "I am glad—mighty glad—that we didn't lose Darrin today. We are going to need him in the Navy of tomorrow!"

XXII. THE "BAZOO" MAKES TROUBLE

"Sir, the brigade is formed," reported the brigade adjutant, the next day, as the midshipmen stood in ranks, ready to march into the mess hall.

"Publish the orders," directed the cadet commander.

Then the brigade adjutant rattled off the orders, reading them in a quick monotonous voice.

"For coolness, judgment and remarkable bravery displayed in an accident encounter in the sinking and foundering of a sailboat under his command, which accident was not any way due to his own negligence or incapacity—"

Dave started, then crimsoned, as the brigade adjutant continued reading:

"Midshipman David Darrin, fourth class, is hereby specially commended, and his conduct is offered as an example to all his comrades in the brigade of midshipmen."

A moment later the crisp marching orders rang out, and the brigade was marching in by classes.

Dave's face was still flushed, his blood tingling somewhat. It was pleasing, doubtless, to be thus reviewed in orders, but Dave was not unduly elated.

In the Navy, though courage may sometimes be mentioned in orders, not much fuss is made over it. All officers and men in the Navy are expected to be brave, as a matter of course and of training.

Dan, in fact, was more pleased over that one paragraph in orders than was his chum.

"Of course everyone in the Navy must brave," thought Dalzell, to himself. "But old Dave will always be one of the leaders in that line."

In accordance with custom a copy of the order giving Darrin special commendation was mailed to his father, as one who had a right to know and to be proud of his son's record at the Naval Academy.

Not a doubt was there that the senior Darrin was proud! So many of the elder Darrin's friends were favored with a glimpse of the official communication received from Annapolis that the editor of the Gridley "Blade," heard of it. Mr. Pollock asked the privilege of making a copy of the official communication, which contained a copy of the paragraph in orders.

Mr. Pollock, however, was not contented with publishing merely a copy of the official communication from the Naval Academy authorities. The editor printed a column and a half, in all reminding his readers that Midshipman Darrin was one of a recently famous sextette of Gridley High School athletes who had been famous as Dick & Co. Not only did Dave receive a flattering amount of praise in print. Dan came in for a lot of pleasant notice also.

Dave received a marked copy of that issue of the "Blade." He fairly shivered as he read through that column and a half.

"Danny boy," shuddered Darrin, passing the "Blade" over to his roommate, "read this awful stuff. Then help me to destroy this paper!"

Dan Dalzell read the column and a half, and reddened, grinning in a sickly sort of way.

"Just awful, isn't it?" demanded Midshipman Dalzell.

"Awful?" muttered Darrin uneasily. "Why that doesn't begin to describe it. If any upper class man should see that paper—"

"He won't see this copy," proclaimed Dan, beginning to tear the offending issue of the "Blade" into small bits.

In the parlance of Annapolis the newspaper from a midshipman's home town is known as the "Bazoo." Now, the "Bazoo" has an average inclination to print very flattering remarks about the local representative at Annapolis. While the home editor always means this as pleasant service, the detection of flattering articles by any upper class man at Annapolis always means unpleasant times for the poor plebe who has been thus honored in the columns of the "Bazoo."

The torn bits of the Gridley "Blade" were carefully disposed of, but Dave still shivered. Through a clipping agency, or in some other mysterious way, upper class men frequently get hold of the "Bazoo."

Four days passed, and nothing happened out of the usual.

On the evening of the fifth day, just after the release bell had rung, there was a brief knock at the door. Then that barrier flew open.

Midshipmen Jones, Hulburt and Heath of the second class filed gravely into the room, followed by Midshipmen Healy, Brooks, Denton, Trotter and Paulson of the third class.

Dave and Dan quickly rose to their feet, standing at attention facing their visitors.

With a tragic air, as if he were an executioner present in his official capacity, Youngster Paulson held out a folded newspaper.

"Mister," he ordered Darrin, "receive this foul sheet. Unfold it, mister. Now, mister, what depraved sheet do you hold in your hands?"

"The Gridley 'Blade', sir," replied Darrin, his face crimsoning.

"The—what, mister?"

"Pardon me, sir—the Gridley 'Bazoo.'"

"Have you seen another copy of the 'Bazoo' lately, mister?"

"Yes, sir," admitted Dave, his face growing still redder.

"Ah! He saw it—and still he did not die of shame!" murmured Second Class Man Jones.

"Shocking depravity!" groaned Midshipman Hurlburt.

"Since you have already scanned the 'Bazoo,'" resumed Midshipman Paulson, "you will have no difficulty in finding the page, mister, on which the editor of the 'Bazoo' sings his silly praise of you. Turn to that page, mister."

Dave further unfolded the paper, coming to the page on which the fearful article was printed. As he glanced at it Dave saw that the article had been marked in blue pencil, and many of the paragraphs numbered.

"Since you admit having read the 'Bazoo's' infamous article, mister," continued Midshipman Paulson, "tell us whether any of the scurrilous charges therein are true?"

"The quotation from the official report, sir, being correct as a copy, is bound to be true—"

"Official reports at the Naval Academy are always true," retorted Paulson severely. "Proceed, sir, to the comments which the ink-slinger of the 'Bazoo' has made concerning you. Mister, read the paragraph numbered 'one.'"

In a voice that shook a trifle Dave read:

"Dave Darrin is, beyond any question or cavil, one of the brightest, smartest, bravest and most popular boys who ever went forth into the world as a true son of old Gridley."

"Mister," declared Paulson, "you may gloss over some of the slander in those words by singing them to the tune of 'Yankee Doodle.'"

Dave flushed. There was a momentary flash in his eyes. Dan, watching his chum covertly, was briefly certain that Darrin was going to balk. Perhaps he would even fight.

True hazing, however, does not aim at cruelty, but at teaching a new man to obey, no matter how absurd the order.

In another moment the grim lines around the corners of Dave's mouth softened to a grin.

"Wipe off that ha-ha look, mister!" warned Youngster Paulson.

"I'll sing, gentlemen, if you think you can stand it," Dave promised.

"You'll sing, mister, because you've been ordered to do so," reported Paulson as master of ceremonies. "Now, then, let us have that paragraph to the air of 'Yankee Doodle.'"

Dave obeyed. To do him justice, he sang the best that he knew how, but that wasn't saying much for quality. Dave had a good voice for a leader of men, but a poor one for a singer.

Somehow, he got through the ordeal.

"Now, cast your eye on the paragraph marked as number two," directed Mr. Paulson. "Mister, the 'Bazoo' in your left hand. Thrust your right hand in under the front of your blouse and strike the attitude popularly ascribed to Daniel Webster. No comedy, either, mister; give us a serious impersonation, sir!"

This was surely rubbing it in, but Dave gave his best in attitude and pose.

"Effective!" murmured Midshipman Jones. "Very!"

"Superb!" voiced Mr. Hurlburt.

"Now, for the declamation, mister, of paragraph number two," commanded Youngster Paulson.

In a deep voice, and with a ring that was meant to be convincing, Dave read the paragraph:

"Since a school consists of pupils as well as of instructors, the brightest student minds may be said to make the life and history of a famous school. It has been so with our justly famous Gridley High School. Mr. Darrin, in the past, has aided in establishing many of the traditions of the famous school that claims him as her own son. The young man's heroism at Annapolis, under the most exacting conditions, will surprise no one who knows either Mr. Darrin or the splendid traditions that he helped establish among the youth of his home town. In the years to come we may look confidently forward to hearing the name of Darrin as one of the most famous among the newer generation of the United States Navy. David Darrin will always be a hero—because he cannot help it."

As Dave, his face flushing more hotly than ever, read through these lines he was conscious of the jeering gaze of the upper class men. He was interrupted, at times, by cries of fervid but mock admiration.

"I feel," announced Mr. Hurlburt, wiping his eyes with his handkerchief, "that I am indeed honored in being one of the humbler students at this great school on which our beloved comrade has shed the luster of his presence."

"It seems almost profane to look at such a young man, except through smoked glasses," protested Midshipman Heath.

"What's your name, mister?" demanded Midshipman Brooks.

"Darrin, sir," Dave answered, with the becoming meekness of a fourth class man.

"Any relative of the Darrin mentioned in the elegy you have just been reading?"

"I hope not, sir," replied Dave, fighting to stifle a grin, though it was a sheepish one.

"Mister," stormed Midshipman Denton, "you are attempting to deceive us!"

Dave gazed meekly but inquiringly at the last speaker.

"You are trying to evade the fact that you are the real Darrin, the identical hero whom the 'Bazoo' so lovingly, so reverently describes. Deceit fills your system, mister! You will stand on your head long enough to let it run out of you."

Midshipman Paulson, though an inveterate "runner" of fourth class men, had some regard for the dangers of overstaying the visit, and kept his left eye on the time.

Darrin, standing on his head, became redder of face than ever, for all the blood in his body seemed to be running downward. At last he became so unsteady that twice his feet slipped along the wall, and he had to return to his attitude of standing on his head.

"Better let up on the beast, Paulson," murmured Midshipman Brooks.

"Yes," agreed Paulson. "The warning bell will go in a minute more. Mister, on your feet!"

Dave promptly returned to normal attitude, standing respectfully at attention.

"Mister," continued Paulson, "you will be allowed to retain this marked copy of the 'Bazoo.' You are warned to keep it out of sight, ordinarily, that none of the discipline officers may find it. But you will continue to refer to it several times daily, until you are sure that you have committed all of the marked paragraphs to heart, so that you can reel them off in song or in declamation. And you will be prepared, at all times, to favor any of the upper class men with these selections, whenever called for. Good night, mister!

"Good night, sir."

Dave returned the salutations of each of the departing visitors. Just as Brooks, the last of the lot, was passing through the doorway, the warning bell before taps sounded.

For a moment Dave Darrin, his face still red, stood behind the closed door, shaking his fist after the departing visitors.

"Why didn't you shake your fist while they were in the room?" asked Dalzell bluntly.

"That would have started a fight, as the least consequence," replied Dave, more soberly.

"A fight, eh?" chuckled Dan. "Dave, I don't know what has come over you lately. There was a time when you didn't mind fights."

"I have fought three times since coming here," Darrin replied soberly.

"And I have fought seven times," retorted Dan.

"Puzzle: Guess which one of us was found the fresher," laughed Darrin.

"I never thought you'd stand anything such as you've endured at Annapolis, without pounding your way through thick ranks of fighters," mused Dalzell aloud. "Dave, I can't fathom your meekness."

"Perhaps it isn't meekness," returned Darrin, wheeling and looking at his chum.

"If it isn't meekness, then what is it? And, Dave, you used to be the hothead, the living firebrand of Dick & Co.!"

"Danny boy, if hazing has lived nearly seventy years at Annapolis, then it's because hazing is a good thing for the seedling Naval officer. I believe in hazing. I believe in being forced to respect and obey my elders. I believe in a fellow having every grain of conceit driven out of him by heroic measures. And that's hazing—long may the practice live and flourish!"

"Why, what good is hazing doing you?" insisted Dalzell.

"It's teaching me how to submit and to obey, and how to forget my own vanity, before I am put in command of other men later on. Danny boy, do you suppose it has cost me no effort to keep my hands at my trousers-seams when I wanted to throw my fists out in front of me? Do you imagine I have just tamely submitted to a lot of abuse because my spirit was broken? Danny, I'm trying to train my spirit, instead of letting it boss me! Many and many a time, when the youngsters have started to guy me unmercifully I've fairly ached to jump in and thrash 'em all. But, instead, I've tried to conquer myself!"

"I reckon you're the same old Dave—improved," murmured Midshipman Dalzell, holding out his hand.

XXIII. THE SPECTRE AT THE FIGHT PARTY

"On your head, mister. Now, let us have paragraph number four, with tragic, blank-verse effect."

That was Jennison's command

Brooks manifested a fondness for paragraph number one, to the air of "Yankee Doodle."

Others dropped in on Dave, after release at 9.30, evenings, and called for other paragraph rendered in various ways. He was also overhauled, out of doors, in the brief recreation period after dinner, and made to do various stunts with the unfortunate paragraphs from the "Bazoo."

By the time the first week of this was over Dave Darrin wished most heartily that Mr. Pollock had never founded the Gridley "Blade."

It is rare that second class men take any part in hazing; it is almost unheard of for a first class man to take any really active part in running a plebe.

Midshipman Henley, first class, proved an exception to this rule. Regularly, once a day, he met Darrin and ordered him to sing paragraph number one to the tune of "Yankee Doodle."

If Dave resented any part of the torment, he was especially annoyed by Henley's unusual conduct.

Naval needs brought a strange revenge.

Reports had reached the Navy Department from commanders of warships in commission that many of the graduates of the Naval Academy serving with the fleets did not possess sufficient knowledge of the command of boat crews.

In the past first class men had not been bothered with rowing drills, which they were supposed to have thoroughly mastered earlier in their course.

Acting on word from the Navy Department the superintendent of the Naval Academy had the first class men ordered out for rowing drills. All who showed sufficient skill were released from such drills. The others were sent to drill with the fourth class men.

Four of Dave's boat crew of fourth class men were transferred to another crew, their places being taken by four first class men who had been found sadly deficient in rowing drill.

"Will one of the first class men serve as crew captain, sir?" asked Darrin.

"Certainly not," replied Lieutenant Edgecombe. "You will still keep command of your crew, Mr. Darrin. And you will be expected to see that these first class men are most thoroughly grounded in the boat drill. Do no spare any of them in the least because they are upper class men."

"Very good, sir," Darrin answered, saluting.

Midshipman Henley was one of the four assigned to Dave's crew.

There was a deep scowl on Henley's face when he reported for the first boat drill under a plebe crew captain.

As the boat was pushed off, after the crew had embarked, Darrin was alert only to his duty as the man in charge of the boat.

Before the boat had gone a hundred yard Dave called crisply:

"Number four, handle your oar with more energy and precision!

"Don't get too stiff, mister," growled Midshipman Henley.

Darrin returned the black look coolly.

"Number four, when addressing the crew captain, you will employ the word, 'sir.' And you will pay strict attention to criticisms of your work."

"Beats all how these plebes think they're men!" growled Mr. Henley disgustedly, without looking at Dave.

"No talking in the crew," called Dave

Henley subsided, for he had been trained to habits of obedience. Had the man in command been a member of his own class there would have been no trouble whatever, but Henley resented being at the orders of a fourth class man.

"Number four, you are lounging," rebuked Darrin quietly, but firmly. "Correct your deportment, sir."

Dave gazed so steadily at Midshipman Henley that the latter, though he colored, took a more seamanlike attitude for a while. Bitter thoughts, however, were seething in the mind of this first class man. After a few minutes Henley again struck his improper attitude.

"Mr. Henley, upon your return put yourself on the report for taking an unseamanlike attitude after having been once corrected," directed Dave, in a businesslike tone.

The hot blood leaped to Henley's face and temples. He opened his mouth, intent upon making a stinging retort.

But Dave was glancing at him so coolly, compellingly, that the older midshipman now realized that he had gone as far as was safe.

During the rest of the drill Mr. Henley performed his work well enough to escape further rebuke.

When the crew was dismissed, however, Henley wore a blacker look than ever as he stalked along to the office of the officer in charge.

Here Henley picked up one of the report blanks, filled it out as briefly as possible, an signed his name, next turning in the report.

Immediately after supper that night, and before the signal sent the midshipmen to their studies, Henley stepped up to Dave.

"Mister, I want a word in private with you."

"Certainly, sir," replied Dave. He was no longer crew captain on duty, but a fourth class man answering a first class man.

Henley conducted Dave out of earshot of any one else before he turned to say, hissingly:

"Mister, you used an upstart's privilege of abusing your authority this afternoon."

"I think not, sir," replied Dave quietly.

"You put me on report for no other reason than that I had made you sing extracts from the 'Bazoo,'" charged the first class man.

"That reason or thought never entered my head, sir."

"I say it did!"

"Then I am very sorry to have to reply that you are entirely in error."

"You tell me that I am making a false statement?" demanded Midshipman Henley, more angrily.

"If you choose to consider it in that light, sir."

"Mister, you are touge, ratey, impudent and worthless!" declared Henley hotly.

"Then I infer, sir, that you do not wish to waste any more time upon me?"

"Oh, you will not get off as easily as that," sneered Midshipman Henley. "You are a good-sized fellow, and you have some fourth class reputation as a fighter. We shall not be so badly or unevenly matched, mister, I shall send a friend to inform you that I have called you out."

"Then, sir, your friend will save time by seeking Mr. Dalzell, of the fourth class, who will be informed that he is to represent me."

"Very good, mister."

"That is all you wish to say to me, sir?"

"You may go, mister."

Dave Darrin walked away, his mind full of mighty serious thoughts.

In the first place, for a midshipman to call out another, for reporting him for breach of discipline, is about as serious an offense as a midshipman can ordinarily commit. It insures, if detected, the instant dismissal of the challenger. And the challenged midshipman, if he accepts, held to be equally guilty. So are the seconds.

In accepting this challenge, which he had done instantly, Dave Darrin well knew that he placed his chances of remaining at the Naval Academy in great peril. He was also aware that he ran Dan's head into equal danger.

Yet tradition and custom would not allow Darrin to dodge the fight thus thrust upon him. It was equally true, that, if he failed to ask Dan to act as his second, he would put a serious slight on his chum.

Dave hurried to Dalzell, who listened with more glee than might have been expected.

"Good enough, David, little giant!" approved Dalzell. "When you meet Henley on the field just close in and pound off the whole of his superstructure!

"Dan, I'm afraid I'm letting you in for a tough risk."

"You wouldn't be my friend if you kept me out of it," retorted Dalzell significantly.

Rollins proved only too glad to have the privilege of being the other second. He, too, ran a risk of being dismissed, if caught at this fight; but in adventurous youth the love of risk is strong.

The time was set for Saturday evening at 8.30; the place as usual.

Darrin, as usual, was the first principal to show up. He always liked to have plenty of time for stripping, and he also found it to his advantage to look the ground over.

Mr. Bailey, of the second class, was to serve as referee, and Mr. Clafflin, of the second class as time-keeper. It was against custom to have any of the officials from the first class since a member of that class was to be one of the principals.

"I wonder what sort of fellow Henley is with his fists," mused Rollins, after they had reached the ground.

"Darrin will find out for you," replied Dan.

"I'm not as afraid of seeing my principal thrashed as I might have been earlier in the year," went on Rollins.

"Hm! Any fellow that thrashes Dave is almost certain to carry away a few mementos himself!"

As soon as Henley and his seconds were seen to be approaching, Dave slipped off his blouse.

Within five minutes after that both men were ready and faced each other. The word was given.

"Now, Mr. Touge," warned Henley, "guard that striking face of yours!"

"Oh, I don't do any striking with my face," retorted Dave dryly. "I do all my killing with my hands."

"Stop that one," urged Henley, feinting cleverly with his left, then following it up with a right hand crusher.

Dave stopped both blows neatly enough, then sidestepped and passed over a fist that grazed Mr. Henley's face.

"I just wanted to find out where your face is," mocked Darrin.

"Talk less and fight more, Mr. Touge!" warned the referee.

"Very good, sir," Dave retorted. "But it's going to be hard on Mr. Henley."

"Bah!" sneered Henley. "Woof!"

The latter exclamation followed when Dave's fist cut Henley's lip a bit. But that indignity stirred the first class man to swifter, keener efforts. He failed to score heavily on the fourth class man, however; but, just before the call time for the first round Henley's nose stopped a blow from Darrin's fist, and first class blood began to flow.

"Mr. Touge is a hard fighter," muttered the time-keeper to the referee, while the seconds attended their men.

"We've plenty of fellows at Annapolis who can punish Darrin," replied Midshipman Bailey.

Time was called for the start-off of the second round. The two principals were intent on their footwork around each other, when there came hail that froze their blood.

"Halt! Remain as you are for inspection!"

It was the voice of Lieutenant Hall, one of the discipline officers, and the fighters and their friends had been caught!

XXIV. CONCLUSION

Blank dismay fell over the whole of the fight party.

Three first class men, two second class men and three members of the fourth class stood on the brink of almost instant dismissal.

It was bitter for all of them, but it seemed especially hard to the first class men, who had survived the four years of hard grilling and were on the eve of graduation.

However, there was no thought of running. Though it was too dark for the discipline officer to have recognized any of them at the distance from which he had hailed them, yet, in a flight, it would be easy enough for Lieutenant Hall, who was an athlete, to catch one or two of them and then the names of all present could be obtained.

It was an instant of utter terror.

Then another voice broke in on the stillness.

"All hands to the fire apparatus! Fire in Bancroft Hall!"

The fight party felt another thrill. If the big Academy building was in danger they must rush to do their share.

The officer's running footsteps were already heard. He had turned and was speeding away.

"Get on your clothes, quickly, you two fellows!" ordered Midshipman Bailey crisply "We've got to turn in with the rest for fast work!"

Just then another figure darted up to them. It turned out to be Midshipman Farley.

"Yes; get on your clothes with some classy speed," chuckled Farley. "Lieutenant Hall will be back here with a bunch of watchmen, the marine guard, or any other old crowd, when he finds that he has been lured on the reefs by false signals!

"Mister, did you give that call of fire?" demanded Midshipman Bailey sternly.

"Yes, sir."

"And there's no fire?"

"None that I know of, sir."

"Mister, what's your name?"

"Farley, sir."

"Then, Farley, sir, come and get hugged."

In truth a lot of fuss was made over that young midshipman within a few seconds.

"It can't do much harm to use you something like a human being and a comrade, anyway," declared Time-keeper Clafflin, as he wrung both of Farley's hands. "Within a few days you'll be a youngster now."

Farley explained that an itching interest in the fight had tempted him to be close at hand, and this had given him his chance to save the fight party.

Darrin and Henley were dressing like lightning, and the others would not flee until the principals were ready to take part in the flight.

"Henley," broke in Midshipman Bailey decisively, "you can't risk your graduation again by resuming this fight at some other time. As far as the mill had gone Mr. Darrin had the best of it. I award the fight to him."

"I'm glad you do, Bailey," replied Henley heartily. "And, as soon as I'm dressed, and my cap is set on square, I'm going to apologize and ask Mr. Darrin to shake hands with me."

"Will you do me a favor, sir?" inquired Dave.

"A dozen," agreed Henley instantly.

"Then, sir, cut the apology and confine it to the hand-shake."

In another moment they were ready for hasty departure. But Dave had to wait for a quick, hearty handclasp from each of the upper class men. Then all divided into three groups, by classes, and thirty seconds later found these midshipmen too far from the scene to be identified with any fight party.

"It was a remarkably good and cheeky piece of work, sir," Lieutenant Hall reported, twenty minutes later, to Commander Jephson, commandant of midshipmen. "I had a fight party right under my hands when that call of fire sounded. It was so natural that I bolted away and lost my party before I discovered that it was a hoax."

"Did you recognize any of the fight party, Mr. Hall?

"No, sir; I was not close enough, and the night is dark."

"Did you recognize the voice of the man who gave the fire-call?"

"No, sir; at any rate, I believe that the voice was disguised."

"The young men have discovered a new one, and have tried it on you, Mr. Hall."

"I realize that, sir," replied the lieutenant, in a voice of chagrin.

It was now the time of annual examinations, of daily dress parade and the incoming of the first of the hosts of visitors who would be on hand during graduation week.

Of the annual examinations the poor fourth class men thought they had more than their share. Of the dress parades they had their full share. In the graduating exercises they took no part; they were not even present.

"What does a mere fourth class man know about the Navy, anyway?" was the way Midshipman Trotter asked the question.

Twenty-two of the fourth class men stumbled in their annual examinations. These went home promptly. They would not return again, unless their Congressmen reappointed them for another try. In case that happened to any of the young men they would return to take up life with the new fourth class, and would henceforth be known as "bilgers."

A man who has been dropped is a "bilger," whether he comes back or not. A "bilger" is further described as "one who used to be in the game, and is now only on the outside looking in."

Dave Darrin's standing for the year was two-eighty-seven. Dan's was two-eighty-two. Farley and Page came close to that figure.

None of these young men were in the "savvy" section, but all had passed with sufficient credit for the first year.

While the graduating exercises were going on the fourth class men were divided between drills on land and on water.

Dave and Dan were in a squad that marched up from the steam building just in time to catch a distant glimpse of the crowds surging out from the graduating exercises.

Both young men, and probably a lot of others in the same squad throbbed with a swift flash of thought.

As soon as the ranks were broken Dalzell seized his chum's hand, and began wringing it strenuously.

"David, little giant," murmured Dan ecstatically, "we are no longer fourth class men. From the instant that the tail-ender of the old first class received his diploma we became transformed into third class men."

"Yes," smiled Dave. "We're youngsters. That's going some."

"Poor fourth class men!" sighed Dan. "I'm alluding to those who will have to look up to and reverence me as a youngster!"

As soon as the chums had made a shift from their working clothes to the uniform of the day, and had stepped outside, they saw Mr. Henley coming their way, looking wholly proud and happy.

Then, of a sudden, Mr. Henley bent a keen look upon the new youngsters.

Just in the nick of time Dave Darrin recalled one of the regulations to which he had hitherto paid little heed for lack of use.

Graduate midshipmen are entitled to be saluted by mere midshipmen as though they were already officers.

Swiftly Darrin brought his heels together with a click, bringing his hand smartly up to the visor of his uniform cap.

Henley gravely returned the salute with a new sense of existence.

Dan Dalzell caught the drift of the thing just in time, and saluted also.

"May we congratulate you, Mr. Henley?" asked Dave.

"I was hoping that you both would," replied the graduate. "And, one of these days, I may have the pleasure of congratulating you, as an officer, when you first come up over the side to start in with your real sea life."

"I'm thinking, now, of our first taste of sea life," murmured Darrin, a dreamy light coming into his eyes.

"Yes; just as soon as we graduates are gotten out of the way you new youngsters will join the two upper classes on the big battleships and start on your first summer practice cruise."

"I feel as if I couldn't wait," muttered Dan, as Henley moved away.

"You'll have to, however," laughed Dave. "Don't be impatient. Think what a very small insect on shipboard a youngster midshipman is!"

The chums were through with their first year at Annapolis. But, all in a moment, they had entered the next year. Many things befell them on that summer practice cruise, and many more things in the new academic year that followed. But these will be appropriately reserved for the next volume, which will be entitled: "Dave Darrin's Second Year at Annapolis; Or, Two Midshipmen as Naval Academy 'Youngsters.'"

Having left the fourth class behind Dave and Dan at last entered fully into the life of the midshipmen. They "counted" now; they were "somebodies," and a host of new and exciting experiences were ahead of them.

THE END

DAVE DARRIN'S SECOND YEAR AT ANNAPOLIS

or

Two Midshipmen as Naval Academy "Youngsters"

CONTENTS

I. A Question of Midshipman Honor

II. Dave's Pap-Sheet Advice

III. Midshipman Pennington Goes Too Far

IV. A Little Meeting Ashore

V. When the Seconds Wondered

VI. In Trouble On Foreign Soil

VII. Pennington Gets His Wish

VIII. The Tragedy of the Gale

IX. The Despair of the "Recall"

X. The Grim Watch From the Waves

XI. Midshipman Pennington's Accident

XII. Back In the Home Town

XIII. Dan Receives a Fearful Facer

XIV. The First Hop With the Home Girls

XV. A Disagreeable First Classman

XVI. How Dan Faced the Board

XVII. Losing The Time-Keeper's Count

XVIII. Fighting the Famous Double Battle

XIX. The Officer In Charge is Shocked

XX. Conclusion

I. A QUESTION OF MIDSHIPMAN HONOR

"How can a midshipman and gentleman act in that way?"

The voice of Midshipman David Darrin, United States Navy, vibrated uneasily as he turned to his comrades.

"It's a shame—that's what it is," quivered Mr. Farley, also of the third class at the United States Naval Academy.

"But the question is," propounded Midshipman Dan Dalzell, "what are we going to do about it?"

"Is it any part of our business to bother with the fellow?" demanded Farley half savagely.

Now Farley was rather hot-tempered, though he was "all there" in points that involved the honor of the brigade of midshipmen.

Five midshipmen stood in the squalid, ill-odored back room of a Chinese laundry in the town of Annapolis.

There was a sixth midshipman present in the handsome blue uniform of the brigade; and it was upon this sixth one that the anger and disgust of the other five had centered.

He lay in a sleep too deep for stirring. On the still, foul air floated fumes that were new to those of his comrades who now gazed down on him.

"To think that one of our class could make such a beast of himself!" sighed Dave Darrin.

"And on the morning of the very day we're to ship for the summer cruise," uttered Farley angrily.

"Oh, well" growled Hallam, "why not let this animal of lower grade sleep just where he is? Let him take what he has fairly brought upon himself!"

"That's the very question that is agitating me," declared Dave Darrin, to whom these other members of the third class looked as a leader when there was a point involving class honor.

Dave had became a leader through suffering.

Readers of the preceding volume in this series, "Dave Darrin's First Year At Annapolis," will need no introduction to this fine specimen of spirited and honorable young American.

Readers of that preceding volume will recall how Dave Darrin and Dan Dalzell entered the United States Naval Academy, one appointed by a Congressman and the other by a United States Senator. Such readers will remember the difficult time that Dave and Dan had in getting through the work of the first hard, grinding year. They will also recall how Dave Darrin, when accused of treachery to his classmates, patiently bided his time until he, with the aid of some close friends, was able to demonstrate his innocence. Our readers will also remember how two evil-minded members of the then fourth class plotted to increase Damn's disgrace and to drive him out of the brigade; also how these two plotters, Midshipmen Henkel and Brimmer, were caught in their plotting and were themselves forced out of the brigade. Our readers know that before the end of the first year at the Naval Academy, Dave had fully reinstated himself in the esteem of his manly classmates, and how he quickly became the most popular and respected member of his class.

It was now only the day after the events whose narration closed the preceding volume.

Dave Darrin and Dalzell were first of all brought to notice in "The High School Boys' Series." In their High School days, back in Gridley, these two had been famous members of Dick & Co., a sextette of youngsters who had made a name for themselves in school athletics.

Dick Prescott and Greg Holmes, two other members of the sextette, had been appointed to the United States Military Academy at West Point, where they were serving in the corps of cadets and learning how to become Army officers in the not far distant future. All of the adventures of Dick and Greg are set forth in "The West Point Series."

The two remaining members of famous old Dick & Co., Tom Reade and Harry Hazelton, became civil engineers, and went West for their first taste of engineering work. Tom and Harry had some wonderful and startling adventures, as fully set forth in "The Young Engineers' Series."

On this early June day when we again encounter Dave Darrin and Dan Dalzell in their handsome Naval uniforms, all members of the first, second and third classes were due to be aboard one of the three great battleships that lay off the Yard at Annapolis at four p.m.

These three great battleships were the "Massachusetts," the "Iowa" and the "Indiana." These three huge, turreted fighting craft had their full crews aboard. Not one of the battleship commanders would allow a "jackie" ashore, except on business, through fear that many of the "wilder" ones might find the attractions on shore too alluring, and fail to return in time.

With the young midshipmen it was different. These young men were officially and actually gentlemen, and could be trusted.

Yet here, in the back room of this laundry, was one who was apparently not dependable.

This young midshipman's name was Pennington, and the fact was that he lay in deep stupor from the effects of smoking opium!

It had been a storekeeper, with a shop across the street, who had called the attention of Dave and his four comrades to the probable fate of another of their class.

"Chow Hop runs a laundry, but I have heard evil stories about a lot of young fools who flock to his back room and get a chance to 'hit' the opium pipe," the storekeeper had stated to Dave. "One of your men, or at least, one in a midshipman's uniform, went in there at eleven o'clock this forenoon, and he hasn't been out since. It is now nearly two o'clock and, I've been looking for some midshipmen to inform."

Such had been the storekeeper's careful statement. The merchants of Annapolis always have a kindly feeling toward these fine young midshipmen. The storekeeper's purpose was to enable them to help their comrade out.

So the five had entered the laundry. The proprietor, Chow Hop, had attempted to bar their way to the rear room.

But Dave had seized the yellow man and had flung him aside.

The reader already knows what they discovered, and how it affected these young men.

"Bring that copper-colored chink in here, if you'll be so good," directed Dave.

Dan and Hallam departed on the quest.

"You're wanted in there," proclaimed Dalzell, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

"Me no sabby," replied Chow Hop, looking up briefly from his ironing board.

"Get in there—do you hear?" commanded Hallam, gripping the other's arm with all his force.

"You lemme go chop-chop (quickly), or you get alle samee hurt—you sabby?" scowled Chow Hop, using his free hand to raise a heavy flat-iron menacingly.

But Dan Dalzell jumped in, giving the Chinaman's wrist a wrench that caused him to drop the iron.

Then, without a bit of ceremony, Dan grasped the Oriental by the shoulders, wheeled him about, while he protested in guttural tones, and bluntly kicked the yellow-faced one through the door into the inner room.

At this summary proceeding both the Chinese helpers gripped their flat-irons firmly; and leaped forward to fight.

In an ugly temper the Chinaman is a bad man to oppose. But now this pair were faced by a pair of quietly smiling midshipmen who were also dangerous when angry.

"You two, get back," ordered Dalzell, advancing fearlessly upon the pair. "If you don't, we'll drag you out into the street and turn you over to the policemen. You 'sabby' that? You heathen are pretty likely to get into prison for this day's work!"

Scowling for a moment, then muttering savagely, the two helpers slunk back to their ironing boards.

Yet, while Dan turned to go into the rear room, Hallam stood just where he was, to keep an eye on two possible sources of swift trouble.

"Chow Hop," began Dave Damn sternly, as the proprietor made his flying appearance, "You've done a pretty mean piece of work here"—pointing to the unconscious midshipman in the berth. "Do you understand that you're pretty likely to go to prison for this?"

"Oh, that no maller," replied Chow, with a sullen grin. "Him plenty 'shipmen come here and smoke."

"You lie!" hissed Dave, grasping the heathen by the collar and shaking him until the latter's teeth rattled.

Then Dave gave him a brief rest, though he still retained his hold on the Chinaman's collar. But the yellow man began struggling again, and Dave repeated the shaking.

Chow Hop had kept his hands up inside his wide sleeves. Now Farley leaped forward as he shouted:

"Look out, Darry! He has a knife!"

Farley attempted to seize the Chinaman's wrist, for the purpose of disarming the yellow man, but Dave swiftly threw the Chinaman around out of Farley's reach. Then, with a lightning-like move, Dave knocked the knife from Chow Hop's hand.

"Pick that up and keep it for a curio, Farley," directed Dave coolly.

In another twinkling Darrin had run the Chinaman up against the wall.

Smack! biff! thump!

With increasing force Dave's hard fist struck the heathen in the face.

"Now stand there and behave yourself," admonished Midshipman Dave, dropping his hold on the yellow man's collar, "or we'll stop playing with you and hurt you some."

The scowl on Chow Hop's face was ominous, but he stood still, glaring at Dave.

"Chow, what can we do to bring this man out of his sleep!" asked Dave coolly, and almost in a friendly tone.

"Me no sabby," sulked the Chinaman.

"Yes, you do," retorted Dave warningly. "Now, what can we do to get our friend out of this!"

"You allee same cally (carry) him out," retorted Chow, with a suspicion of a sulky grin.

"None of that, now, you yellow-face!" glared Dave. "How shall we get our comrade out of this opium sleep!"

"Me no sabby no way," insisted Chow.

"Oh, yes, you do!" snapped Dave. "But you won't tell. All right; we'll find the way, and we'll punish you into the bargain. Dan, get a piece of paper from the other room."

Dalzell was quickly back with the desired item. On the paper Dave wrote a name and a telephone number.

"It's near the end of the doctor's office hours," murmured Dave. "Go to a telephone and ask the doctor to meet you at the corner above. Tell him it's vastly important, and ask him to meet you on the jump."

"Shall I tell him what's up!" asked Dan cautiously.

"Yes; you'd better. Then he'll be sure to bring the necessary remedies with him."

Dan Dalzell was off like a shot.

Chow tried to edge around toward the door.

"Here, you get back there," cried Dave, seizing the Chinaman and slamming him back against the wall. "Don't you move again, until we tell you that you may—or it will be the worse for you."

Ten minutes passed ere Dan returned with Dr. Lawrence.

"You see the job that's cut out for you," said Darrin, pointing to the unconscious figure in the bunk. "Can you do it, Doctor?"

The medical man made a hasty examination of the unconscious midshipman before he answered briefly:

"Yes."

"Will it be a long job, Doctor?"

"Fifteen minutes, probably."

"Oh, good, if you can do it in that time!"

"Me go now?" asked Chow, with sullen curiosity, as the medical man opened his medicine-case.

"Yes; if you don't try to leave the joint," agreed Dave. "And I'm going outside with you."

Chow looked very much as though he did not care for company, but Midshipman Darrin kept at his side.

"Now, see here, Chow," warned Dave, "this is the last day you sell opium for white men to smoke!"

"You heap too flesh (fresh)" growled the Chinaman.

"It's the last day you'll sell opium to white men," insisted Dave, "for, as soon as I'm through here I'm going to the police station to inform against you. They'll go through here like a twelve-inch shot."

"You alle same tell cop?" grinned Chow, green hatred showing through his skin. "Then I tell evelybody about you fliend in there."

"Do just as you please about that," retorted Dave with pretended carelessness. "For one thing, you don't know his name."

"Oh, yes, I do," swaggered Chow impudently. "Know heap 'bout him. His name alle same Pen'ton."

Seizing a marking brush and a piece of paper, Chow Hop quickly wrote out Pennington's name, correctly spelled. His ability to write English with a good hand was one of Chow's great vanities, anyway.

"You go back to your ironing board, yellow-face," warned Darrin, and something in the young third classman's face showed Chow that it would be wise to obey.

Then Hallam drew Darrin to one side, to whisper earnestly in his ear:

"Look out, old man, or you will get Pen into an awful scrape!"

"I shan't do it," maintained Darrin. "If it happens it will have been Pen's own work."

"You'd better let the chink go, just to save one of our class."

"Is a fellow who has turned opium fiend worth saving to the class!" demanded Dave, looking straight into Hallam's eyes.

"Well, er—er—" stammered the other man.

"You see," smiled Dave, "the doubt hits you just as hard as it does me!"

"Oh, of course, a fellow who has turned opium fiend is no fellow ever to be allowed to reach the bridge and the quarter-deck," admitted Hallam. "But see here, are you going to report this affair to the commandant of midshipmen, or to anyone else in authority?"

"I've no occasion to report," replied Dave dryly. "I am not in any way in command over Pennington. But I mean to persuade him to report himself for what he has done!"

"But that would ruin him!" protested Hallam, aghast. "He wouldn't even be allowed to start on the cruise. He'd be railroaded home without loss of a moment."

"Yet you've just said that an opium-user isn't fit to go on in the brigade," retorted Darrin.

"Hang it, it's hard to know what to do," rejoined Hallam, wrinkling his forehead. "Of course we want to be just to Pen."

"It doesn't strike me as being just exactly a question of justice to Pennington," Darrin went on earnestly. "If this is anything it's a question of midshipman honor. We fellows are bound to see that all the unworthy ones are dropped from the service. Now, a fellow who has fastened the opium habit on himself isn't fit to go on, is he?"

"Oh, say, but this is a hard one to settle!" groaned Hallam.

"Then I'll take all the responsibility upon myself," said Dave promptly. "I don't want to make any mistake, and I don't believe I'm going to. Wait just a moment."

Going to the rear room, Dave faced his three comrades there with the question:

"You three are enough to take care of everything here for a few minutes, aren't you?"

"Yes," nodded Dan. "What's up?"

"Hallam and I are going for a brief walk."

Then, stepping back into the front room, Darrin nodded to his classmate, who followed him outside.

"Just come along, and say nothing about the matter on the street," requested Dave. "It might be overheard."

"Where are you going?" questioned Hallam wonderingly.

"Wait and see, please."

From Chow Hop's wretched establishment it was not far to the other building that Dave had in mind as a destination.

But when they arrived, and stood at the foot of the steps, Hallam clutched Darrin's arm, holding him back.

"Why, see here, this is the police station!"

"I know it," Dave replied calmly.

"But see here, you're not—"

"I'm not going to drag you into anything that you'd object to," Darrin continued. "Come along; all I want you for is as a witness to what I am going to say."

"Don't do it, old fel—"

"I've thought that over, and I feel that I must," replied Dave firmly. "Come along. Don't attract attention by standing here arguing."

In another instant the two midshipmen were going swiftly up the steps.

The chief of police received his two callers courteously. Dave told the official how their attention had been called to the fact that one of their number was in an opium joint. Dave named the place, but requested the chief to wait a full hour before taking any action.

"That will give us a chance to get out a comrade who may have committed only his first offense," Dave continued.

"If there's any opium being smoked in that place I'll surely close the joint out!" replied the chief, bringing his fist down upon his desk. "But I understand your reasons, Mr.—"

"Darrin is my name, sir," replied Dave quietly.

"So, Mr. Darrin, I give you my word that I won't even start my investigations before this evening. And I'll keep all quiet about the midshipman end of it."

"Thank you very much, sir," said Dave gratefully.

As the two midshipmen strolled slowly back in the direction of Chow Hop's, Dave murmured:

"Now, you see why I took this step?"

"I'm afraid not very clearly," replied Midshipman Hallam.

"That scoundrelly Chow made his boast that other midshipmen patronized his place. I don't believe it. Such a vice wouldn't appeal to you, and it doesn't to me. But there are more than two hundred new plebes coming in just now, and many of these boys have never been away from home before. Some of them might foolishly seek the lure of a new vice, and might find the habit fastened on them before they were aware of it. Chow's vile den might spoil some good material for the quarter-deck, and, as a matter of midshipman honor, we're bound to see that the place is cleaned out right away."

"I guess, Darry, you come pretty near being right," assented Hallam, after thinking for a few moments.

By the time they reached Chow Hop's again they found that Dr. Lawrence had brought the unfortunate Pennington to. And a very scared and humiliated midshipman it was who now stood up, a bit unsteadily, and tried to smooth down his uniform.

"How do you feel now?" asked Dave.

"Awful!" shuddered Pennington. "And now see here, what are you fellows going to do? Blab, and see me driven out of the Navy?"

"Don't do any talking in here," advised Dave, with a meaning look over his shoulder at the yellow men in the outer room. "Doctor, is our friend in shape to walk along with us now?"

"He will be, in two or three minutes, after he drinks something I'm going to give him," replied the medical man, shaking a few drops from each of three vials into a glass of water. "Here, young man, drink this slowly."

Three minutes later the midshipmen left the place, Dave walking beside Pennington and holding his arm lightly for the purpose of steadying him.

"How did this happen, Pen?" queried Dave, when the six men of the third class at last found themselves walking down Maryland Avenue. "How long have you been at this 'hop' trick?"

"Never before to-day," replied Midshipman Pennington quickly.

"Pen, will you tell me that on your honor?" asked Dave gravely.

The other midshipman flared up.

"Why must I give you my word of honor?" he demanded defiantly. "Isn't my plain word good enough?"

"Your word of honor that you had never smoked opium before to-day would help to ease my mind a whole lot," replied Darrin. "Come, unburden yourself, won't you, Pen?"

"I'll tell you, Darry, just how it happened. To-day was the first time, on my word of honor, I came out into Annapolis with a raging toothache. Now, you know how a fellow gets to hate to go before the medical officers of the Academy with a tale about his teeth."

"Yes, I do," nodded Darrin. "If a fellow is too much on the medical report for trouble with his teeth, then it makes the surgeons look his mouth over with all the more caution, and in the end a fellow may get dropped from the brigade just because he has invited over zeal from the dentist. But what has all this to do with opium smoking?"

"Just this," replied Pennington, hanging his head. "I went into a drug store and asked a clerk that I know what was the best thing for toothache. He told me the best he knew was to smoke a pipe of opium, and told me where to find Chow Hop, and what to say to the chink. And it's all a lie about opium helping a sore tooth," cried the wretched midshipman, clapping a hand to his jaw, "for there goes that fiendish tooth again! But say! You fellows are not going to leak about my little mishap?"

"No," replied Darrin with great promptness. "You're going to do that yourself."

"What?" gasped Midshipman Pennington in intense astonishment. "What are you talking about?"

"You'll be wise to turn in a report, on what happened," pursued Dave, "for it's likely to reach official ears, anyway, and you'll be better off if you make the first report on the subject."

"Why is it likely to reach official ears, if you fellows keep your mouths shut?"

"You see," Darrin went on very quietly, "I reported the joint at the police station, and Chow Hop threatened that, if I did, he'd tell all he knew about everybody. So you'd better be first——"

"You broke the game out to the police!" gasped Pennington, staring dumfoundedly at his comrade. "What on earth——"

"I did it because I had more than one satisfactory reason for considering it my duty," interposed Dave, speaking quietly though firmly.

"You—you—bag of wind!" exploded Midshipman Pennington.

"I'll accept your apology when you've had time to think it all over," replied Dave, with a smile, though there was a brief flash in his eyes.

"I'll make no apology to you—at any time, you—you—greaser!"

Marks for efficiency or good conduct, which increase a midshipman's standing, are called "grease-marks" or "grease" in midshipman slang. Hence a midshipman who is accused of currying favor with his officers in order to win "grease" is contemptuously termed a "greaser."

"I don't want to talk with you any more, Mr. Darrin," Pennington went on bitterly, "or walk with you, either. When I get over this toothache I'll call you out—you greaser!"

Burning with indignation, Midshipman Pennington fell back to walk with Hallam.

II. DAVE'S PAP-SHEET ADVICE

When our party reached the landing a lively scene lay before them.

Fully a hundred midshipmen, belonging to the first, second and third classes, were waiting to be transported out to one or another of the great, gray battleships.

Several launches were darting back and forth over the water. The baggage of the midshipmen had already been taken aboard the battleships. Only the young men themselves were now awaited.

Near-by stood a lieutenant of the Navy, who was directing the embarkation of the midshipmen of the different classes.

Five minutes after our party arrived a launch from the "Massachusetts" lay in alongside the landing.

"Third classmen, this way!" shouted the lieutenant. "How many of you?"

Turning his eyes over the squad that had moved forward, the officer continued:

"Twenty-two. You can all crowd into this launch. Move quickly, young gentlemen!"

In another couple of minutes the puffing launch was steaming away to the massive battleship that lay out in the stream.

Dave stood well up in the bow. Once he barely overheard Pennington mutter to a comrade:

"The rascally greaser!"

"That means me," Dave muttered under his breath. "I won't take it up now, or in any hurry. I'll wait until Pen has had time to see things straight."

As soon as the launch lay alongside, the young midshipmen clambered nimbly up the side gangway, each raising his cap to the flag at the stern as he passed through the opening in the rail.

Here stood an officer with an open book in his hand. To him each midshipman reported, saluting, stated his name, and received his berthing.

"Hurry away to find your berthings, and get acquainted with the location," ordered this officer. "Every midshipman will report on the quarter-deck promptly at five p.m. In the meantime, after locating your berthings, you are at liberty to range over the ship, avoiding the ward room and the staterooms of officers."

The latest arrivals saluted. Then, under the guidance of messengers chosen from among the apprentice members of the crew, the young men located their berthings.

"I'm going to get mine changed, if I can," growled Pennington, wheeling upon Dave Darrin. "I'm much too close to a greaser. I'm afraid I may get my uniforms spotted, as well as my character."

"Stop that, Pen!" warned Dave, stationing himself squarely before the angry Pennington. "I don't know just how far you're responsible for what you're saying now. To-morrow, if you make any such remarks to me, you'll have to pay a mighty big penalty for them."

"You'll make me pay by going to the commandant and telling him all you know, I suppose?" sneered Pennington.

"You know better, Pen! Now, begin to practise keeping a civil tongue behind your teeth!"

With that, Darrin turned on his heel, seeking the deck.

This left "Pen" to conjecture as to whether he should report his misadventure, and, if so, how best to go about it.

"See here, Hallam," began the worried midshipman, "I begin to feel that it will be safer to turn in some kind of report on myself."

"Much safer," agreed Hallam. "It will show good faith on your part if you report yourself."

"And get me broken from the service, too, I suppose," growled the unhappy one.

"I hardly think it will, if you report yourself first," urged Hallam. "But you'll be about certain to get your walking papers if you wait for the first information to come from other sources."

"Hang it," groaned Pennington, "I wish I could think, but my head aches as though it would split and my tooth is putting up more trouble than I ever knew there was in the world. And, in this racked condition, I'm to go and put myself on the pap-sheet. In what way shall I do it, Hallam? Can't you suggest something?"

"Yes," retorted Hallam with great energy. "Go to the medical officer and tell him how your tooth troubles you. Tell him what you tried on shore. I'll go with you, if you want."

"Will you, old man? I'll be a thousand times obliged!"

So the pair went off in search of the sick-bay, as the hospital part of a battleship is called. The surgeon was not in his office adjoining, but the hospital steward called him over one of the ship telephones, informing him that a midshipman was suffering with an ulcerated tooth.

Dr. Mackenzie came at once, turned on a reflector light, and gazed into Midshipman Pennington's mouth.

"Have you tried to treat this tooth yourself, in any way?" queried the ship's surgeon.

"Yes, sir; I was so crazy with the pain, while in Annapolis, that I am afraid I did something that will get me into trouble," replied Pennington, with a quiver in his voice.

"What was that?" asked Dr. Mackenzie, glancing at him sharply. "Did you try the aid of liquor?"

"Worse, I'm afraid, sir."

"Worse?"

Pennington told of his experience with the opium pipe.

"That's no good whatever for a toothache, sir," growled Dr. Mackenzie. "Besides, it's a serious breach of discipline. I shall have to report you, Mr. Pennington."

"I expected it, sir," replied Pennington meekly.

"However, the report won't cure your toothache," continued Dr. Mackenzie in a milder tone. "We'll attend to that first."

The surgeon busied himself with dissolving a drug in a small quantity of water. This he took up in a hypodermic needle and injected into the lower jaw.

"The ache ought to stop in ten minutes, sir," continued the surgeon, turning to enter some memoranda in his record book.

After that the surgeon called up the ship's commander over the 'phone, and made known Pennington's report.

"Mr. Pennington, Captain Scott directs that you report at his office immediately," said the surgeon, as he turned away from the telephone.

"Very good, sir. Thank you, sir."

Both midshipmen saluted, then left the sick-bay.

"This is where you have to go up alone, I guess," hinted Midshipman Hallam.

"I'm afraid so," sighed Pennington.

"However, I'll be on the quarter-deck, and, if I'm wanted, you can send there for me."

"Thank you, old man. You're worth a brigade of Darrins—confound the greasing meddler!"

"Darrin acted according to his best lights on the subject of duty," remonstrated Mr. Hallam mildly.

"His best lights—bah!" snarled Pennington. "I'll take this all out of him before I'm through with him!"

Pennington reported to the battleship's commander. After some ten minutes a marine orderly found Hallam and directed him to go to Captain Scott's office. Here Hallam repeated as much as was asked of him concerning the doings of the afternoon. Incidentally, the fact of Midshipman Darrin's report to the police was brought out.

"Mr. Pennington, I shall send you at once, in a launch, over to the commandant of cadets to report this matter in person to him," said Captain Scott gravely. "Mr. Hallam, you will go with Mr. Pennington."

Then, after the two had departed, an apprentice messenger went through the ship calling Dave's name. That young man was summoned to Captain Scott's office.

"I am in possession of all the facts relating to the unfortunate affair of Midshipman Pennington, Mr. Darrin," began Captain Scott, after the interchange of salutes. "Will you tell me why you reported the affair to the police?"

"I went to the police, sir," Dave replied, "because I was aware that many members of the new fourth class are away from home for the first time in their lives. I was afraid, sir, that possibly some of the new midshipmen might, during one of their town-leaves, be tempted to try for a new experience."

"A very excellent reason, Mr. Darrin, and I commend you heartily for it. I shall also report your exemplary conduct to the commandant of midshipmen. You have, in my opinion, Mr. Darrin, displayed very good judgment, and you acted upon that judgment with promptness and decision. But I am afraid," continued the Navy captain dryly, "that you have done something that will make you highly unpopular, for a while, with some of the members of your class."

"I hope not, sir," replied Dave.

"So do I," smiled Captain Scott "I am willing to find myself a poor prophet. That is all, Mr. Darrin."

Once more saluting, Dave left the commanding officer's presence. Almost the first classmate into whom he stumbled was Dan Dalzell.

"Well, from what quarter does the wind blow!" murmured Dan.

Darrin repeated the interview that he had just had.

"I'm afraid, Dave, little giant, that you've planted something of a mine under yourself," murmured Dalzell.

"I feel as much convinced as ever, Danny boy, that I did just what I should have done," replied Darrin seriously.

"And so does Captain Scott, and so will the commandant," replied Dan. "But winning the commendation of your superior officers doesn't always imply that you'll get much praise from your classmates."

"Unfortunately, you are quite right," smiled Dave. "Still, I'd do the same thing over again."

"Oh, of course you would," assented Dan. "That's because you're Dave Darrin."

Here a voice like a bass horn was heard.

"All third classmen report to the quarter-deck immediately!"

This order was repeated in other parts of the ship. Midshipmen gathered with a rush, Pennington and Hallam being the only members absent. As soon as the third classmen, or "youngsters," as they are called in midshipman parlance, had formed, the orders were read off dividing them into sections for practical instruction aboard ship during the cruise.

Dave's name was one of the first read off. He was assigned to duty as section leader for the first section in electrical instruction. Dalzell, Farley, Hallam, Pennington and others were detailed as members of that section.

The same section was also designated for steam instruction, Dalzell being made leader of the section in this branch.

The class was then dismissed. Somewhat later Pennington and Hallam returned from their interview with the commandant.

Hallam at once sought out Dave.

"Darry, old man," murmured Hallam, "Pen is as crazy as a hornet against you. As he had taken the first step by sticking himself on the pap-sheet (placing himself on report), the commandant said he would make the punishment a lighter one."

"What did Pen get?" queried Dave.

"Fifty demerits, with all the loss of privileges that fifty carry."

"He's lucky," declared Dave promptly. "Had the report come from other sources, he would have been dismissed from the service."

"If Pen's lucky," rejoined Hallam, "he doesn't seem to realize the fact. He's calling you about everything."

"He can keep that up," flashed Dave, "until his toothache leaves him. Then, if he tries to carry it any further, Pen will collide with one of my fists!"

Not much later a call sounded summoning the youngsters to the midshipmen's mess. Dave was glad to note that Pennington sat at some distance from him at table.

While the meal was in progress the "Massachusetts" and the other battleships got under way. The midshipmen were on deck, an hour later, when the fleet came to anchor for the night, some miles down Chesapeake Bay.

Before the youngsters were ordered to their berths that night Third Classman Pennington had found opportunity to do a good deal of talking to a few comrades who would listen to him.

Pennington was determined to stir up a hornet's nest for Dave Darrin.

III. MIDSHIPMAN PENNINGTON GOES TOO FAR

At eight o'clock the following morning the various sections were formed and marched to the deck.

Dave reported:

"All present, sir."

The chief electrician was now summoned, and to him the section was turned over. This young man, Whittam, by name, was an enlisted man, but a bright young sample of what the Navy can do for the boy who enlists as an apprentice.

"You will take your orders from Mr. Whittam as though he were an officer," directed the officer, his words intended for all members of the section, though he looked only at Darrin.

Dave saluted, then, as Chief Electrician Whittam turned to lead the way, Dave called quietly:

"Section, left wheel—march!"

They followed Whittam down into the dynamo room, an interesting spot for a machinist.

"It's fine," muttered Dan, as he stared about him at the bright metal work, the switch-board and the revolving machines. "But I'm afraid I couldn't learn the use and sense of all this in five years."

"Silence in the section," commanded Dave, turning around upon his chum.

Whittam now began a short, preliminary talk upon the subjects in which the midshipmen would be required to qualify.

"One of the first and most important requests I have to make," said Whittam presently, "is that none of you touch the switches, except by direction. None of you can guess the harm that might follow the careless and ignorant handling of a switch."

"It's pretty cheeky for an enlisted man to talk to midshipmen about ignorance," whispered Pennington to Farley.

"Oh, I don't know—" Farley started to reply, but Darrin's quiet voice broke in with authority:

"Cease talking in section."

Farley knew this to be a merited rebuke, and accepted it as such, but Pennington's face went violently red.

"Confound that grease-spot-chaser," growled Pen. "He'll be bound to take it out of me as long as the cruise lasts. But I'll get even with him. No cheap greaser is going to ride over me!"

That morning none of the midshipmen were called upon to handle any of the fascinating-looking machinery. Nearly the whole of this tour of practical instruction was taken up by the remarks of the chief electrician. As he spoke, Whittam moved over to one piece or another of mechanism and explained its uses. Finally, he began to question the attentive young men, to see how much of his instruction they had absorbed.

"This is a shame, to set an enlisted man up over us as quiz-master, just to see how little we know," growled Pennington; but this time he had the good sense not to address his remark to anyone.

Pennington was not yet in good shape, after his harrowing experiences of the day before.

Ere the tour of instruction was over, he began to shift somewhat uneasily.

Then his attention began to wander.

A brilliantly shining brass rod near him caught his eye. Something about the glossy metal fascinated him.

Once or twice Pen put out his hand to touch the rod, but as quickly reconsidered and drew back his hand.

At last, however, the temptation proved too strong. He slid one hand along the rail.

"Here, sir, don't handle that!" rasped in the voice of Whittam.

Pennington drew back his hand, a flush mounting to his face.

"The fellow has no right to talk to a midshipman in that fashion!" quivered Pennington to himself. "But it was the fault of that low-minded greaser Darrin, anyway. Darrin saw me, and he glanced swiftly at the chief electrician to draw attention to me."

It is only just to Pennington to state that he actually believed he had seen Dave do this. Darrin, however, was not guilty of the act. He had in no way sought to direct attention at Pennington.

Towards the close of the tour the officer in whose department this instruction fell passed through the dynamo room.

"Are there any breaches of conduct to be reported, Whittam?" inquired the officer, halting.

"Nothing worth mentioning, sir," replied the chief electrician.

"I asked you, Whittam, whether there had been any breaches of conduct," retorted the officer with some asperity.

"One midshipman, sir, after having been instructed to touch nothing, rested his hand on one of the brass rods."

"His name?"

"I don't know the names of many of the young gentlemen yet, sir, so I don't know the particular midshipman's name, sir."

"Then point him out to me," insisted the officer.

There was hardly any need to do so. Pennington's face, flushed with mortification, was sufficient identification. But the chief electrician stepped over, halting in front of the hapless one, and said:

"This is the young gentleman, sir."

"Your name, sir?" demanded the officer.

"Pennington, sir."

"Mr. Pennington, you will place yourself on the report, sir, for disobedience of orders," commanded the officer. "Is this the only case, Whittam?"

"The only case, sir."

The officer passed out of the dynamo room, leaving the unlucky one more than ever angry with Darrin, whom he incorrectly charged with his present trouble.

The recall sounding, Dave turned to Whittam, saying crisply but pleasantly:

"Thank you for our instruction."

"He's thanking the fellow for my new scrape," growled Pennington inwardly.

Dave marched his section back to deck and dismissed it. Dan Dalzell, as section leader in steam instruction, immediately re-formed it.

"You will report in the engine-room, Mr. Dalzell, to Lieutenant-Commander Forman, who is chief engineer of this ship. He will assign you to an instructor."

"Aye, aye, sir," Dan replied, saluting. "Section, right wheel—march!"

Dan already knew where, down in the bowels of the great battleship, to find the engine room.

Reaching that department, Dan halted his section.

"Section all present, sir," reported Dan, saluting a strange officer, who, however, wore the insignia of a lieutenant-commander.

"Your name, sir?" inquired the officer.

"Dalzell, sir."

"Let your section break ranks. Then you may all follow me, and keep your eyes open, for you will go through one or two dark places."

"Aye, aye, sir. Section break ranks."

Lieutenant-Commander Forman led the way, with all the members of the section wondering what was to be the nature of their first day's work in the engineer department.

Descending lower into the ship, the chief engineer led the young middies over a grating, and paused at the head of an iron ladder.

"Pass down in orderly fashion, single file," directed the chief engineer, halting. "When at the foot of this ladder, cross a grating to port side, and then descend a second ladder, which you will find."

All the midshipmen went down the first ladder in silence. Dan, who had preceded the others, crossed the grating and found the second ladder.

Once more these youngsters descended. Pennington, as though by mere accident, succeeded in following Dave Darrin down the ladder.

Just as they were near the bottom Dave felt a foot descend upon his shoulder, almost with a kick, and then rest there with a crushing pressure.

It hurt keenly until Darrin was able to dodge out from under and hurriedly reach the bottom.

"Pardon, whoever you are," came a gruff voice.

Dave, with his shoulder crippled a good deal, and paining keenly, halted as soon as his foot had touched bottom. It was dark down there, though some reflected light came from an incandescent light at a distance.

Dave waited, to peer into the face of the man who had stepped on his shoulder.

It was Pennington, of course!

"I'll take pains not to go down ahead of you again, or to follow you up a ladder," grunted Darrin suspiciously.

"Oh, are you the man on whose shoulder my foot rested?" asked Pennington, with apparent curiosity.

"Didn't you know it!" questioned Darrin, looking straight into the other's eyes.

Instead of answering intelligibly, Pennington turned and walked away a few feet.

"Perhaps that fellow thinks he's going to vent his spite on me in a lot of petty ways," murmured Dave. "If that is the idea he has in his head, he's going to wake up one of these days!"

Following the last midshipman came Lieutenant-Commander Forman.

"After me, gentlemen," directed the chief engineer. He turned down a narrow passage, only a few feet long, and came out in the furnace room.

Here huge fires glowed through the furnace doors. Four of the Navy's firemen stood resting on their shovels. Instantly, on perceiving the chief engineer, however, the men stood at attention.

"Pass the word for the chief water tender," ordered the engineer, turning to one of the firemen.

The messenger soon came back with a pleasant-faced, stalwart man of forty.

"Heistand," ordered the chief engineer, "give these members of the first section, third: class, steam instruction, a thorough drill in firing."

"Aye, aye, sir," replied the chief water tender, saluting.

"Heistand's orders are mine, Mr. Dalzell," continued the lieutenant-commander, facing Dan. "Preserve order in your section."

"Aye, aye, sir," replied Dan, saluting. Acknowledging this courtesy in kind, the chief engineer turned and left the furnace room.

Heistand was presumably of German parentage, though he had no accent. He struck the midshipmen as being a pleasant, wholesome fellow, though the water tenders and firemen of the "Massachusetts" knew that he could be extremely strict and grim at need.

"You will now, young gentlemen," began Heistand, "proceed to learn all about priming a furnace, lighting, building, cleaning and generally taking care of a fire. Two furnaces have been left idle for this instruction."

But two of the regular firemen now remained in the room. These were ordered to hustle out coal before boilers B and D. Then Heistand taught the members of the section how to swing a shovel to the best advantage so as to get in a maximum of coal with the least effort. He also illustrated two or three incorrect ways of shoveling coal.

"The idea of making coal heavers out of us!" growled a much-disgusted voice.

Dan did not see who the speaker was, but his eyes flashed as he turned and rasped out:

"Silence in the section! Speak only to ask for information, and then at the proper time."

"Another young autocrat!" muttered a voice.

"Wait one moment, please, Heistand," begged Dan. Then, wheeling squarely about, and facing all the members of the section, he declared with emphasis:

"If there's any more unauthorized talking I shall feel obliged to pass the word above that discipline is in a bad way in this section."

Then he wheeled about once more, facing the chief water tender.

"Now, young gentlemen," resumed the chief water tender, "take your shovels and fill in lively under boilers B and D."

Three or four times Heistand checked one or another of the midshipmen, to show him a more correct way of handling the shovel. Yet, in good time, both furnaces were primed.

"Now, Mr. Dalzell, please detail four members of the section to follow me with their shovels and bring red coals from under another boiler."

Dan appointed himself, Darrin, Farley and Pennington.

Burning coals were brought and thrown into each furnace, and in a little while roaring fires were going. These, though not needed for the handling of the battleship, were permitted to burn for a while, Heistand explaining to the section practically the uses of the water gauges and the test cocks. By this time the midshipmen's white working clothes were liberally sprinkled with coal dust and somewhat smeared with oils.

"And now, young gentlemen, as we have no further use for these fires, you will next learn how to haul them," announced Heistand.

This was interesting work, but hot and fast. The implements with which the middies worked soon became red-hot at the end. Yet, as all entered into this novel work with zest, the fires had soon been hauled out on to the floor plates.

Just as the last of this work was being done Pennington, as an apparent accident due to excess of zeal, dropped the red-hot end of his implement across the toe of Darrin's left shoe.

In an instant the leather began to blaze. With swift presence of mind Dave stepped his right foot on the flame, smothering it at once.

But he was "mad clean through."

"See here, Pen," he muttered, in a low voice, his eyes blazing fiercely into the other midshipman's, "that is the last piece of impudence that will be tolerated from you."

Midshipman Pennington's lip curled disdainfully.

Dan had not seen the "accident," but he was near enough to hear the talking, and he caught Dave at it. So Dan ordered, impartially:

"Mr. Darrin, you will place yourself on report for unauthorized talking in section!"

Dave flushed still more hotly, but said nothing.

Midshipman Dalzell now marched the section from the furnace room, and dismissed it. It was near noon, and would soon be time for the middies to eat.

Dave hurried away, washed, changed his uniform, and then stepped away swiftly to place himself on the report.

"I was sorry to do that, old chum," murmured Dan, as he met Dave returning. "But of course I couldn't play favorites. What made you so far forget yourself?"

"A something that would have had the same effect on you," retorted Dave grimly. Thereupon he described Pennington's two underhanded assaults that morning.

"Humph!" muttered Dalzell. "That fellow Pen is bound to go the whole limit with you."

"He won't go much further," declared Dave, his eyes flashing.

"And the chump ought to know it, too," mused Dan. "The class history of the last year should have taught him that. But see here, Dave, I don't believe Pen will do anything openly. He will construct a series of plausible accidents."

"There will be one thing about him that will be open, if he goes any further," retorted Dave, "and that will be his face when he collides with my fist."

"I hope I see that when it happens," grinned Dalzell. "It's bound to be entertaining!"

"Wait a second, then. Here comes Pennington now," murmured Dave Darrin in an undertone.

Pennington, in his immaculate blue uniform, like the chums, came strolling along the passageway between decks.

He affected not to see the chums, and would have passed by. But Dave, eyeing him closely, waited until Pen was barely three feet away. Then Darrin said tersely:

"Mr. Pennington, I wish an understanding with you."

"I don't want any with you," replied Pennington insolently, as he stared at Dave from under much-raised eyebrows. He would have gone by, but Dave sprang squarely in front of him.

"Just wait a moment!" warned Dave rather imperiously, for he was aglow with justifiable indignation.

"Well?" demanded Pennington halting. "Out with it, whatever you may think you have to say."

"I have two things to speak about," replied Dave, trying to control his voice. "In the first place, while going down the ladders to the furnaces this morning, you stepped on my shoulder."

"Well!" insisted Pennington coldly.

"The second thing you did was, when hauling the fires, to drop red-hot metal across one of my shoes, setting it on fire."

"Well?" insisted Pennington more coldly.

"If you mean to contend that either one was an accident," resumed Dave, "then—"

But he found himself obliged to pause for a moment in order to steady his voice.

"Well?" asked Pennington with more insolence than ever.

"If you make such pretense in either case," tittered Dave Darrin, "then you're a liar!"

"Fellow!" sputtered Pennington, turning white with anger.

"I mean what I say, and I can back it up," muttered Darrin.

"Then I'll make you eat your words!" roared Pennington.

Clenching his fists and with the boxer's attitude, Pen aimed two swift blows at Darrin.

Neither blow reached, however, for Dave dodged out of the way. Then Darrin struck back, a straight, true, forceful blow that landed on the other midshipman's nose, knocking him down.

Pennington staggered somewhat when he rose, but he was quickly up, none the less, and ready for anything that might happen.

All of a sudden Dan Dalzell felt his own heart going down into his shoes. One of the ship's officers had just entered the passageway, in time to see what was going on.

IV. A LITTLE MEETING ASHORE

"Stop it, both of you," whispered Dan.

"Stand at attention, ready to salute the officer."

Pennington, with the blood flowing from his damaged nose, would have made a most ludicrous figure saluting!

The instant that he saw such evidence as Pen's nose presented the officer would be bound to make inquiries.

Then, just as surely, his next step must be to Border the three before the commandant of midshipmen.

Fighting carries with it a severe penalty. Even Dan was certain to be reported, through the mere fact of his presence there, as aiding in a fight. And those who aid are punished as severely as the principals themselves.

It was a tense, fearsome instant, for midshipmen have been dismissed from the Naval Academy for this very offense.

The passage was not brilliantly lighted.

The on-coming officer, a lieutenant, junior grade, was looking at the floor as he came along.

Suddenly he paused, seemed lost in thought, then wheeled and walked back whence he had come.

Dan breathed more easily. Dave heaved a sigh of relief.

As for Pennington, that midshipman had wheeled and was stealing rapidly down the passageway, intent only on escape.

"That was the closest squeak we'll ever have without being ragged cold," murmured Dalzell tremulously.

"Where is Pennington?" demanded Dave, wheeling about after he had watched the Naval lieutenant out of sight.

"Ducked out of sight, like a submarine," chuckled Dan.

At that moment the call for midshipmen's dinner formation sounded. Dave and Dan were ready.

Pennington showed up just after the line had started to march into the midshipmen's mess tables.

To the inquiry of the officer in charge, Pen lamely explained that he had bumped his nose into something hard in a poorly lighted passageway.

Though the officer accepted the excuse, he smiled within himself.

"It wasn't iron or steel that bumped that young man's nose," thought the officer.

"Oh, the middies haven't changed a lot since I boned at Annapolis!"

Pennington's nose was no very lovely member of his face at that moment. It had been struck hard, mashed rather flat, and now looked like a red bulb.

"Meet with an accident, Pen?" asked Hallam curiously at table.

"Quit your kidding, please," requested Pennington sulkily.

That directed the curious glances of other middies at Pennington's new bulbous nose.

The young man was so brusque about it, however, that other table mates ceased quizzing him.

Yet, as soon as the meal was over, many a youngster asked others of his class for news regarding Pen. But none possessed it.

During the brief rest that followed the meal, however, Midshipman Pennington made it his business to try to meet Dave Darrin alone. He succeeded, finding Dave staring off across the water at the port rail.

"Of course, Mr. Darrin," began the other midshipman, in a voice suggestive of ice, "you are aware that the incident of an hour ago cannot be allowed to pass unnoticed."

"I don't believe there's any danger of that," retorted Darrin, with an ironical glance at Pennington's damaged-looking nose.

"Confound you, sir," hissed the other midshipman, "don't you dare to be insolent with me."

"Why, I had thought," observed Dave, "that, of your own choice, the period of courtesies between us had passed."

"I shall call you out, Mr. Darrin!"

"You'll find my hearing excellent," smiled Dave. "I shall make but one stipulation."

"I'll do you the favor of asking what that stipulation is," sneered Pennington.

"Why, after the narrow escape we had from being caught and reported, an hour or so ago, I shall ask that the fight be held where we are not so likely to be caught at it. I don't care about being dropped from the Naval Academy, nor do I believe you do."

"It would be a good thing for the service, if one of us were to be dropped," sneered Pennington.

"Yes! Oh, well, you can easily procure writing materials from the captain's clerk," volunteered Dave generously. "On a cruise, I believe, a resignation is sent direct to the commandant of midshipmen."

This ridicule served only to fan the flame of Pennington's wrath.

"Darrin," he hissed, "the Academy isn't big enough to hold us both!"

"But I've already told you how to get out," protested Dave coolly.

"I don't intend to get out!"

"No more do I," rejoined Dave. "I won't even toss pennies with you to find out who quits the service."

"Mr. Darrin, you are merely seeking to divert my mind from what I have said."

"What did you say—particularly?"

"That you would have to fight me."

"I have already signified my entire willingness, Mr. Pennington. To that I really can add nothing."

Fourth classmen are always addressed as "mister," and they must use the same "handle to the name" when addressing upper classmen. But members of the three upper classes resort to the use of "mister," in addressing classmates, only when they wish to be offensive or nearly so.

"I will send a friend to meet you," Pennington continued.

"Why, I thought," bantered Darrin ironically, "that you were going to fight me yourself."

"So I am—be sure of it. I will amend my statement by saying that I will send a second to see you."

"Save time by sending him to Dalzell."

"Very good, Mr. Darrin."

"Is that all you wished to say to me?"

"Yes."

"Very good, Mr. Pennington."

With two very stiff nods the midshipmen parted.

Pennington hastened at once in search of Hallam.

"Will you serve me, old man?" queried Pennington.

"Sorry, but——"

"Well, you see, Pen, not knowing all the facts of the case, I must admit that all my sympathies are with Darrin."

"All your sympathies?" echoed Pen, frowning.

"Well, nearly all, anyway. You see, I've known and observed Darrin for a full year now, and I don't believe patient old Darry is the one to start any trouble."

"He called me a liar," protested Pennington.

"Did he?" gasped Hallam.

"Well, he qualified the statement, but his way of saying it was as offensive as the direct lie could have been."

"So you're bent on fighting Darry?"

"I am."

"Too bad!" muttered Hallam, shaking his head.

"Are you anxious for your idol?" asked Pen in a disagreeable tone.

"No, Penny; it's you that I'm concerned about in my own mind. You're going next to a very hard proposition. Darry is patient—almost as patient as the proverbial camel—but when he fights he fights! You'll be hammered to a pulp, Pen."

"Pooh!"

"No one has yet beaten Darrin at a fist fight."

"There always has to be a first time, you know."

"And you think you're It?"

"As far as Darrin is concerned—yes."

"Too bad—too bad!" sighed Hallam. "I'm afraid, Penny, that the heat in the furnace room was too much for you this morning."

"Then you won't serve as one of my seconds?"

"The honor is most regretfully declined," replied Hallam in a tone of mock sadness.

"You want to see Darrin win?"

"If there has to be a fight, I do," replied Midshipman Hallam.

"Don't bet your money on him, anyway."

"I'm not a gambler, Penny, and I don't bet," replied Hallam, with a dignity that, somehow, ended the conversation.

Pennington had considerable difficulty, at first, in finding a second. At last, however, he induced Decker and Briggs to represent him.

These two midshipmen went to see Dan Dalzell.

"Wait until I send for Mr. Farley," proposed Dalzell. He soon had that midshipman, who was wholly willing to serve Darrin in any capacity.

"We're ready to have the fight this evening," proposed Midshipman Decker.

"We're not," retorted Dan, with vigor.

"Why not?"

"This forenoon Pennington deliberately stepped on Darrin's shoulder, with such force as to lame it a good deal," replied Dan. "Our man insists that he has a right to rest his shoulder, and to wait until to-morrow."

"But to-morrow we have a short shore liberty at Hampton Roads," remonstrated Briggs.

"Yes; and during that shore liberty we can have the fight more safely than on board ship," insisted Dalzell.

"But we intended to devote our shore leave to pleasure," objected Decker.

"You'll find plenty of pleasure, if you accept our proposition," urged Dan dryly. "At any rate, we won't hear of Darrin fighting before to-morrow. He must have to-night to rest that shoulder."

"All right; so be it," growled Decker, after a side glance at Briggs.

"On shore, at some point to be selected by the seconds?" asked Dan Dalzell.

"Yes; that's agreed."

Details as to whom to invite as referee and time-keeper were also arranged.

"I suppose we'll have to use up our shore leave that way, then," grunted Pennington, when told of the arrangement.

"There's one way you can save the day," grinned Decker.

"How?"

"Put Darrin to sleep in the first round, then hurriedly dress and leave, and enjoy your time on shore."

"But Darrin is a very able man with his fists," observed Pennington.

"Yes; but you're a mile bigger and heavier, and you're spry, too. You ought to handle him with all the ease in the world."

"I don't know," muttered Pennington, who didn't intend to make the mistake of bragging in advance. "I'll do my best, of course."

"Oh, you'll win out, if you're awake," predicted Midshipman Briggs confidently.

When the cadets were called, the following morning, they found the battleship fleet at anchor in Hampton Roads.

V. WHEN THE SECONDS WONDERED

One after another the launches sped ashore, carrying their swarms of distinguished looking young midshipmen.

The fight party managed to get off all in the same boat, and on one of the earliest trips.

Pennington was to have ordinary shore leave on the cruise, his fifty demerits to be paid for by loss of privileges on his return to the Naval Academy.

"Decker," proposed Dan, "you and I can skip away and find a good place in no time. Then we can come back after the others."

"That's agreeable to me," nodded Midshipman Decker.

In twenty minutes the two seconds were back.

"We've found just the place," announced Decker. "And it isn't more than three minutes' walk from here. Will you all hurry along?"

"The place" turned out to be a barn that had not been used for a year or more. The floor was almost immaculately clean. In consideration of two dollars handed him, the owner had agreed to display no curiosity, and not to mention the affair to any one.

"How do you like it, Darry?" asked Dan anxiously.

"It will suit me as well as any other place," responded Dave, slipping off his blouse, folding it neatly and putting it aside, his uniform cap following.

"And you?" asked Decker of his man.

"The floor's hard, but I don't expect to be the man to hit it," replied Pennington.

In five minutes both midshipmen were attired for their "affair." Between them the different members of the party had smuggled ashore shoes, old trousers and belts for the fighters.

It being a class affair, Remington, of the third class, had come along as referee, while Dawley; was to be the time-keeper.

"If the principals are ready, let them step forward," ordered Midshipman Remington, going to the middle of the floor. "Now, I understand that this is to be a finish fight; rounds, two minutes; rests, two minutes. I also understand that the principals do not care to shake hands before the call to mix up."

Darrin and Pennington nodded their assent.

"Take your places, gentlemen," ordered the referee quickly. "Are you ready, gentlemen?"

"Yes," came from both principals.

"Time!"

Both men had their guards up. As the word left the referee's lips each tried two or three passes which the other blocked. Midshipman Pennington was trying to take his opponent's "measure."

Then Dave ducked, darted, dodged and wheeled about. Pennington had to follow him, and it made the latter angry.

"Stand up and fight, can't you," hissed Pen.

"Silence during the rounds, Mr. Pennington," admonished the referee quietly. "Let the officials do all the talking that may be necessary."

Dave, as he dodged again, and came up unscathed, grinned broadly over this rebuke. That grin made Pen angrier than anything else could have done.

"I'll wipe that grin off his face!" muttered Pennington angrily.

And this very thing Pennington tried hard to do. He was quick on his own feet, and for a few seconds he followed the dodging Darrin about, raining in blows that required all of Dave's adroitness to escape.

Dave's very success, however, made his opponent all the angrier. From annoyance, followed by excessive irritation, Pennington went into almost blind rage—and the man who does that, anywhere in life, must always pay for it.

Suddenly Dave swung his right in on the point of Pen's chin with a force that jolted the larger midshipman. As part of the same movement, Darrin's left crashed against Pennington's nose.

Then, out of chivalry, Dave dropped back, to give Pen a few moments, in case he needed them, to get his wits back.

"Time!" roared Dawley, and Pennington's seconds pounced upon him and bore him away to his corner.

"Now I know how that fellow Darrin wins his fights," growled Pennington in an undertone. "He keeps on running away until he has the other man gasping for breath. Then Darrin jumps in and wins."

"The method doesn't much matter," commented Briggs dryly, as he and Decker worked over their man. "It's the result that counts. Rush Darry into a tight corner, Pen, and then slam him hard and sufficiently."

"Thanks, fellows; now I'm all right for the second round." muttered Midshipman Pennington.

In a few seconds more Dave and his opponent were hard at work.

Dave still used his footwork, and most cleverly. Yet, wherever he went, Pen followed him nimbly. It didn't look so one sided now.

Then Pennington, at last, managed to deliver one blow on Darrin's right short ribs. It took a lot of Dave's spare wind; he raced about, seeking to regain his wind before allowing close quarters. But at last Pennington closed in again, and, after a swift feint, tried to land the same short-rib blow.

Darrin was watching, and blocked. Then, his temples reddening with anger, Dave swung in a huge one that crashed in under Pennington's right ear.

"Time!" shouted Dawley, just as Pen went to the floor in a heap. That saved the larger midshipman from having to take the count. His seconds had him ready at the call for the third round.

Now, suddenly, Darrin seemed to change not only his tactics, but his whole personality. To his opponent Dave seemed suddenly transformed into a dancing demon.

It was about the same old footwork, but it was aggressive now, instead of being defensive.

First, Dave landed a light tap on the already suffering nose. A few seconds later he landed on the point of Pen's chin, though not hard enough to send his man down. Then a rather light blow on the jaw, just under Pen's right ear again. The larger midshipman was now thoroughly alarmed. He feared that Darrin could do whatever he willed, and shivered with wonder as to when the knockout blow would come.

The truth was, Pennington was still putting up a better battle than he himself realized, and Darrin was not disposed to take any foolish chances through rushing the affair. Thus, the third round ended.

By the time that they came up for the fourth round, after both men had undergone some vigorous handling by their respective seconds, Pennington was a good deal revived and far more confident.

Dave's tactics were the same in the fourth round. Pennington didn't find time to develop much in the way of tactics for himself, save to defend himself.

During the first minute no important blows were landed on either side. Then, suddenly, Dave darted in and under, and brought a right-arm hook against Pen's nose in a way that started that member to bleeding again, and with a steady flow.

That jarred the larger midshipman. He plunged in, heavily and blindly, blocking one of Darrin's blows by wrapping both arms around him.

"None of that, Mr. Pennington! Break away fast!" ordered Midshipman Remington quickly.

Dave took a fair get away, not attempting to strike as the clinch was broken. But an instant later Dave came back, dancing all around his dazed opponent, landing on the short ribs, on the breast bone, under either ear and finally on the tip of the chin.

Pen was sure that none of these blows had been delivered with the force that Darrin could have sent in.

"Time!" shouted Midshipman Dawley.

The principals retired to their corners, Pennington almost wholly afraid from the conviction that his antagonist was now merely playing with him to keep the interest going.

So Pennington was still rather badly scared when the two came together for the fifth round.

"Get lively, now, gentlemen, if you can," begged Referee Remington. "Finish this one way or the other, and let us get some of the benefits of our shore leave."

Pen started by putting more steam behind every blow. Dave, who had used up so much of his wind by his brilliant footwork, began to find it harder to keep the upper hand.

Twice, however, he managed to land body blows. He was trying to drive in a third when Pennington blocked, following this with a left-arm jab on Darrin's left jaw that sent the lighter man to the floor.

Instantly Dawley began to count off the seconds.

"—seven, eight, nine, te——"

Dave was up on his feet. Pen tried to make a quick rush, but Darrin dodged cleverly, them wheeled and faced his opponent as the latter wheeled about.

After that there was less footwork. Both men stood up to it, as keenly alert as they could be, each trying to drive home heavy blows. While they were still at it the call of time sounded.

"Don't let him put it over you, David, little giant!" warned Dan, as the latter and Farley vigorously massaged Darrin's muscles. "He all but had you, and there isn't any need of making Pen a present of the meeting."

"I tried to get him," muttered Dave in an undertone, "and I shall go on trying to the last. But Pennington is pretty nearly superior to anyone in my class."

"Just waltz in and show him," whispered Dalzell, as the call sounded.

Pennington entered the sixth round with more confidence. He began, at the outset, to drive in heavy blows, nor did Dave do much dodging.

Bump! Twenty-five seconds only of this round had gone when Darrin landed his right fist with fearful force upon the high point of Pennington's jaw.

Down went the larger midshipman again. This time he moaned. His eyes were open, though they had a somewhat glassy look in them.

Dawley was counting off the seconds in measured tones.

"—seven, eight, nine—ten!"

Pen had struggled to rise to his feet, but sank back with a gasp of despair and rage.

"Mr. Pennington loses the count and the fight," announced Referee Remington coolly. "I don't believe we're needed here, Dawley. The seconds can handle the wreck. Come along."

As the two officials of the meeting hustled out of the barn, Dalzell gave his attention to helping his chum, while Farley went over to offer his services in getting the vanquished midshipman into shape.

"There were times when I could have closed both of Pennington's eyes," murmured Dave to Dan. "But I didn't want to give him any disfiguring marks that would start questions on board ship."

"You had him whipped from the start," murmured Dan confidently, as he sprayed, then rubbed Dave's chest and arms.

"Maybe, but I'm not so sure of that," rejoined Darrin. "That fellow isn't so easy a prize for any one in my class. There were times when I was all but convinced that he had me."

"Oh, fairy tales!" grunted Dan.

"Have it your own way, then, Danny boy!"

When Darrin and his seconds left the barn they went off to enjoy what remained of the shore leave. Pennington's seconds finally, at his own request, left him at an ice cream parlor, where he proposed to remain until he could return to the big, steel "Massachusetts" without exciting any wonder over the little time he had remained ashore. Pennington had strength to walk about, but he was far from being in really good shape, and preferred to keep quiet.

VI. IN TROUBLE ON FOREIGN SOIL

From Hampton Roads the Battleship Squadron, with the midshipmen on board, sailed directly for Plymouth, England.

During most of the voyage over slow cruising speed was used. By the time that England's coast was sighted the third-class middies found they knew much more about a battleship than they had believed to be possible at the start of the voyage.

They had served as firemen; they had mastered many of the electrical details of a battleship; they had received instruction and had "stood trick" by the engines; there had been some drill with the smaller, rapid-fire guns, and finally, they had learned at least the rudiments of "wig-wagging," as signaling by means of signal flags is termed.

It was just before the call to supper formation when England's coast loomed up. Most of the midshipmen stood at the rail, watching eagerly for a better glimpse at the coast.

Some of the midshipmen, especially those who came from wealthier families, had been in England before entering the Naval Academy. These fortunate ones were questioned eagerly by their comrades.

The battleships were well in sight of Eastern King Point when the midshipmen's call for supper formation sounded. Feeling that they would much have preferred to wait for their supper, the young men hastened below.

After the line was formed it seemed to the impatient young men as though it had never taken so long to read the orders.

Yet there came one welcome order, to the effect that, immediately after the morning meal, all midshipmen might go to the pay officer and draw ten dollars, to be charged against their pay accounts.

"That ten dollars apiece looms up large David, little giant," murmured Dan Dalzell, while the evening meal was in progress.

"We ought to have a lot of fun on it," replied Darrin, who was looking forward with greatest eagerness to his first visit to any foreign soil. "But how much shore leave are we to have?"

"Two days, the word is. We'll get it straight in the morning, at breakfast formation."

In defiance of regulations, Midshipman Pennington, whose father was wealthy, had several hundred dollars concealed in his baggage. He had already invited Hallam, Mossworth and Dickey to keep in his wake on shore, and these young men had gladly enough agreed.

"Say, but we're slackening speed!" quivered Dalzell, when the meal was nearly finished.

"Headway has stopped," declared Darrin a few moments later.

"Listen, everyone!" called Farley. "Don't you hear the rattle of the anchor chains?"

"Gentlemen, as we're forbidden to make too much racket," proposed irrepressible Dan, "let us give three silent cheers for Old England!"

Rising in his place, Dan raised his hand aloft, and brought it down, as his lips silently formed a "hurrah!"

Three times this was done, each time the lips of the midshipmen forming a silent cheer.

Then Dan, with a mighty swoop of his right arm, let his lips form the word that everyone knew to be "tiger!"

"Ugh-h-h!" groaned Midshipman Reilly.

"Throw that irresponsible Fenian out!" directed Dan, grinning.

Then the midshipmen turned their attention to the remnants of the meal.

Boom! sounded sharply overhead.

"There goes the twenty-one-gunner," announced Darrin.

When a foreign battleship enters a fortified port the visiting fleet, or rather, its flagship, fires a national salute of twenty-one guns. After a short interval following the discharge of the last gun, one of the forts on shore answers with twenty-one guns. This is one of the methods of observing the courtesies between nations by their respective fleets.

Ere all the guns had been fired from the flagship, the third classmen received the rising signal; the class marched out and was dismissed. Instantly a break was made for deck.

The midshipmen were in good time to see the smoke and hear the roar of guns from one of the forts on shore.

In the morning the commandant of cadets, as commanding officer of the squadron, would go ashore with his aide and pay a formal call to the senior military officer. Later in the day that English officer and one or two of his staff officers would return the call by coming out to the flagship. That accomplished, all the required courtesies would have been observed.

It was still broad daylight, for in summer the English twilight is a long one, and darkness does not settle down until late.

"Oh, if we were only going ashore to-night!" murmured Hallam. There were many others to echo the thought, but all knew that it could not be done.

"Couldn't we find a trick for slipping ashore after lights out?" eagerly queried Dickey, who was not noted as a "greaser."

"Could we?" quivered Hallam, who, with few demerits against him, felt inclined to take a chance.

But Pennington, to whom he appealed, shook his head.

"Too big a risk, Hally," replied Pen. "And trebly dangerous, with that greaser, Darrin, in the class."

"Oh, stow that," growled Hallam. "Darrin is no greaser. You've got him on your black books—that's all."

"He is a greaser, I tell you," cried Pennington fiercely.

There were a score of midshipmen in this group, and many of them nodded approvingly at Pennington's statement. Though still a class leader, Dave had lost some of his popularity since his report to the police of Annapolis.

So the middies turned in, that night, with unsatisfied dreams of shore life in England.

Soon after breakfast the next morning, however, every midshipman had drawn his ten dollars, even to Pennington, who had no use for such a trifling amount.

As fast as possible the launches ranged alongside at the side gangway, taking off groups of midshipmen, everyone of whom had been cautioned to be at dock in time to board a launch in season for supper formation.

Pennington and his party were among the first to land. They hurried away.

It was on the second trip of one of the launches that Dave, Dan and Farley made their get away. These three chums had agreed to stick together during the day. They landed at the Great Western Docks, to find themselves surrounded by eager British cabbies.

"Are we going to take a cab and get more quickly and intelligently to the best part of the town to see?" asked Farley.

"I don't vote for it," replied Darrin. "We have only five dollars apiece for each of the two days we're to be ashore. I move that we put in the forenoon, anyway, in prowling about the town for ourselves. We'll learn more than we would by riding."

"Come on, then," approved Dan.

Plymouth is an old-fashioned English seaport that has been rather famous ever since the thirteenth century. Many parts of the town, including whole streets, look as though the houses had been built since that time. This is especially true of many of the streets near the water front.

For two hours the three middies roamed through the streets, often meeting fellow classmen. Wherever the young midshipmen went many of the English workmen and shopkeepers raised their hats in friendly salute of the American uniform.

"We don't seem to run across Pen's gang anywhere," remarked Farley at last.

"Oh, no," smiled Dave. "That's a capitalistic crowd. They'll hit only the high spots."

Nevertheless, these three poor-in-purse midshipmen enjoyed themselves hugely in seeing the quaint old town. At noon they found a real old English chop house, where they enjoyed a famous meal.

"I wish we could slip some of these little mutton pies back with us!" sighed Dan wistfully.

In the afternoon the three chums saw the newer market place, where all three bought small souvenirs for their mothers at home. Darrin also secured a little remembrance present for his sweetheart, Belle Meade.

The guild hall and some of the other famous buildings were visited.

Later in the afternoon Dave began to inspect his watch every two or three minutes.

"No need for us to worry, with Dave's eye glued to his watch," laughed Dan.

"Come on, fellows," summoned Darrin finally. "We haven't more than time now to make the dock and get back to supper formation."

"Take a cab?" asked Farley. "You know, we've found that they're vastly cheaper than American cabs."

"No-o-o, not for me," decided Dave. "We'll need the rest of our shore money to-morrow, and our legs are good and sturdy."

Yet even careful Dave, as it turned out, had allowed no more than time. The chums reached the dock in time to see the launches half way between the fleet and shore. Some forty other midshipmen stood waiting on the dock.

Among these were Pennington and his party, all looking highly satisfied with their day's sport, as indeed they were.

Pennington's eyes gleamed when he caught sight of Darrin, Dalzell and Farley—for Pen had a scheme of his own in mind.

Not far from Pennington stood a little Englishman with keen eyes and a jovial face. Pen stepped over to him.

"There are the three midshipmen I was telling you about," whispered Pennington, slipping a half sovereign into the Englishman's hand. "You thoroughly understand your part in the joke, don't you?"

"Don't h'I, though—just, sir!" laughed the undersized Englishman, and strolled away.

Darrin and his friends were soon informed by classmates that the launches now making shore-ward were coming in on their last trip for midshipmen.

"Well, we're here in plenty of time," sighed Dave contentedly.

"Oh, I knew we'd be, with you holding the watch," laughed Dan in his satisfied way.

As the three stood apart they were joined by the undersized Englishman, who touched his hat to them with a show of great respect.

"Young gentlemen," he inquired, "h'I suppose, h'of course, you've 'ad a look h'at the anchor h'of Sir Francis Drake's flagship, the time 'e went h'out h'and sank the great Spanish h'Armada?"

"Why, no, my friend," replied Dave, looking at the man with interest. "Is that here at Plymouth?"

"H'assuredly, sir. H'and h'only a minute's walk h'over to that shed yonder, sir. H'if you'll come with me, young gentlemen, h'I'll show h'it to you. H'it's one of h'our biggest sights, h'and it's in me own custody, at present. Come this way, young gentlemen."

"That sounds like something worth seeing," declared Dave to his comrades. "Come along. It'll take the launches at least six minutes to get in, and then they'll stay tied up here for another five minutes."

With only a single backward glance at the young midshipmen, the undersized Englishman was already leading the way.

At quickened pace the young midshipmen reached the shed that had been indicated. Their guide had already drawn a key from a pocket, and had unsnapped the heavy padlock.

"Step right in, young gentlemen, h'and h'I'll follow h'and show h'it to you."

Unsuspecting, the three middies stepped inside the darkened shed. Suddenly the door banged, and a padlock clicked outside.

"Here, stop that, you rascally joker!" roared Dalzell, wheeling about. "What does this mean?"

"Big trouble!" spoke Dave Darrin seriously and with a face from which the color was fast receding.

VII. PENNINGTON GETS HIS WISH

"The scoundrel!" gasped Farley, his face whiter than any of the others.

Dave was already at the door, trying to force it open. But he might almost as well have tried to lift one of the twelve-inch guns of the battleship "Massachusetts."

"We're locked in—that's sure!" gasped Dalzell, almost dazed by the catastrophe.

"And what's more, we won't get out in a hurry, unless we can make some of our classmates hear," declared Dave.

For the next half minute they yelled themselves nearly hoarse, but no response came.

"What could have been that little cockney's purpose in playing this shabby trick on us?" demanded Farley.

"Perhaps the cockney thinks we're admirals, with our pockets lined with gold. Perhaps he and some of his pals intend to rob us, later in the evening," proposed Dan, with a ghastly grin.

"Any gang would find something of a fight on their hands, then," muttered Dave Darrin grimly.

All three were equally at a loss to think of any explanation for such a "joke" as this. Equally improbable did it seem that any thugs of the town would expect to reap any harvest from robbing three midshipmen.

Desperately they turned to survey their surroundings. The shed was an old one, yet strongly built. There were no windows, no other door save that at which the three middies now stood baffled.

"Another good old yell," proposed Darrin.

It was given with a lusty will, but proved as fruitless as the former one.

"We don't take the last launch back to ship," declared Farley, wild with rage.

"Which means a long string of demerits," said Dan.

"No shore leave to-morrow, either," groaned Darrin. "Fellows, this mishap will affect our shore leave throughout all the cruise."

"We can explain it," suggested Farley with a hopefulness that he did not feel at all.

"Of course we can," jeered Dave Darrin. "But what officer is fool enough to believe such a cock-and-bull story as this one will seem? At the very least, the commandant would believe that we had been playing some pretty stiff prank ourselves, in order to get treated in this fashion. No, no, fellows! We may just as well undeceive ourselves, and prepare to take the full soaking of discipline that we're bound to get. If we attempted this sort of explanation, we'd be lucky indeed to get through the affair without being tried by general court-martial for lying."

"Drake's anchor, indeed!" exclaimed Dan in deep self disgust.

"We ought to have known better," grunted Farley, equally enraged with himself. "What on earth made us so absent-minded as to believe that a priceless relic would be kept in an old shed like this?"

"We're sure enough idiots!" groaned Dan.

"Hold on there, fellows," interrupted Dave Darrin. "Vent all your anger right on me. I'm the great and only cause of this misfortune. It was I who proposed that we take up that cockney's invitation. I'm the real and only offender against decent good sense, and yet you both have to suffer with me."

"Let's give another yell, bigger than before," suggested Dan weakly.

They did, but with no better result than before.

"The launches are away now, anyway, I guess," groaned Farley, after consulting his watch.

"Yes, and we're up the tree with the commandant," grunted Dalzell bitterly.

"Yell again?" asked Farley.

"No," retorted Dave, shaking his head. "We've seen the uselessness of asking help from outside. Let's supply our own help. Now, then—altogether! Shoulder the door!"

A savage assault they hurled upon the door. But they merely caused it to vibrate.

"We can't do it," gasped Dan, after the third trial.

Considerable daylight filtered in through the cracks at top, bottom and one side of the door. Further back in the shed there was less light.

"Let's explore this old place in search of hope," begged Dave.

Together they started back, looking about keenly in what appeared to be an empty room.

"Say! Look at that!" cried Dave suddenly.

He pointed to a solid looking, not very heavy ship's spar.

"What good will that thing do us?" asked Farley rather dubiously.

"Let's see if we can raise it to our shoulders," proposed Dave Darrin radiantly. "Then well find out!"

"Hurrah!" quivered Dan Dalzell, bending over the spar at the middle.

"Up with it!" commanded Darrin, placing himself at the head of the spar. Farley took hold at the further end.

"Up with it!" heaved Midshipman Darrin.

Right up the spar went. It would have been a heavy job for three young men of their size in civil life, but midshipmen are constantly undergoing the best sort of physical training.

"Now, then—a fast run and a hard bump!" called Darrin.

At the door they rushed, bearing the spar as a battering ram.

Bump! The door shook and shivered.

"Once more may do it!" cheered Darrin. "Back."

Again they dashed the head of their battering ram against the door. It gave way, and, climbing through, they raced back to the pier.

But Dan, who had secured the lead, stopped with a groan, pointing out over the water.

"Not a bit of good, fellows! There go the launches, and we're the only fellows left! It's all up with our summer's fun!"

"Is it, though?" shouted Dave, spurting ahead. "Come on and find out!"

As they reached the front of the piers, down at the edge of a landing stage they espied a little steam tender.

"That boat has to take us out to the 'Massachusetts'!" cried Darrin desperately, as he plunged down the steps to the landing stage, followed by his two chums.

[Illustration: The Three Midshipmen Raced Toward the Pier.]

"Who's the captain here?" called Dave, racing across the landing stage to the tender's gangplank.

"I am, sir," replied a portly, red-faced Englishman, leaning out of the wheel-house window.

"What'll you charge to land us in haste aboard the American battleship 'Massachusetts'?" asked Darrin eagerly.

"Half a sov. will be about right, sir," replied the tender's skipper, touching his cap at sight of the American Naval uniform.

"Good enough," glowed Dave, leaping aboard. "Cast off as quickly as you can, captain, or we'll be in a heap of trouble with our discipline officers."

The English skipper was quick to act. He routed out two deckhands, who quickly cast off. Almost while the deckhands were doing this the skipper rang the engineer's bell.

"Come into the wheel-'ouse with me," invited the skipper pleasantly, which invitation the three middies accepted. "Now, then, young gentlemen, 'ow did it 'appen that you missed your own launches."

"It was a mean trick—a scoundrelly one!" cried Darrin resentfully. Then he described just what had happened.

The skipper's own bronzed cheeks burned to a deeper color.

"I can 'ardly believe that an Englishman would play such a trick on young h'officers of a friendly power," he declared. "But I told you, sir, the fare out to your ship would be half a sov. I lied. If a nasty little cockney played such a trick on you, it's my place, as a decent Englishman, to take you out for nothing—and that's the fare."

"Oh, we'll gladly pay the half sov." protested Darrin.

"Not on this craft you can't, sir," replied the skipper firmly.

Looking eagerly ahead, the three middies saw two of the launches go along side of the "Massachusetts" and discharge passengers. As the second left the side gangway the Briton, who had been crowding on steam well, ranged in along side.

"What craft is that, and what do you want?" hailed the officer of the deck, from above.

"The tender 'Lurline,' sir, with three of your gentlemen to put h'aboard of you, sir," the Briton bellowed through a window of the wheel-house.

"Very good, then. Come alongside," directed the officer of the deck.

In his most seamanlike style the Briton ranged alongside. Dave tried to press the fare upon the skipper, but he would have none of that. So the three shook hands swiftly but heartily with him, then sprang across to the side gangway, where they paused long enough to lift their caps to this stranger and friend. The Briton lifted his own cap, waving it heartily, ere he fell off and turned about.

"You didn't get aboard any too soon, gentlemen," remarked the officer of the deck, eyeing the three middies keenly as they came up over the side, doffing their uniform caps to the colors. "Hustle for the formation."

Midshipman Pennington was chuckling deeply over the supposed fact that he had at last succeeded in bringing Darrin in for as many demerits as Darrin had helped heap upon him.

"That'll break his heart as an avowed greaser," Pen told himself. "With all the demerits Darrin will get, he'll have no heart for greasing the rest of this year. It's rough on Farley, but I'm not quite as sorry for Dalzell, who, in his way, is almost as bad as Darrin. He's Darrin's cuckoo and shadow, anyway. Oh, I wish I could see Darrin's face now!"

This last was uttered just as Midshipman Pennington stepped into line at the supper formation.

"I wish I could see Darrin's face now!" Pen repeated to himself.

Seldom has a wish been more quickly gratified. For, just in the nick of time to avoid being reported, Midshipmen Darrin, Dalzell and Farley came into sight, falling into their respective places.

At that instant it was Midshipman Pennington's face, not Dave Darrin's, that was really worth studying.

"Now how did the shameless greaser work this!" Pennington pondered uneasily.

But, of course, he couldn't ask. He could only hope that, presently, he would hear the whole story from some other man in the class.

VIII. THE TRAGEDY OF THE GALE

There is altogether too much to the summer practice cruise for it to be related in detail.

Nor would the telling of it prove interesting to the reader. When at sea, save on Sundays, the midshipman's day is one of hard toil.

It is no life for the indolent young man. He is routed out early in the morning and put at hard work.

On a midshipman's first summer cruise what he learns is largely the work that is done by the seamen, stokers, water tenders, electricians, the signal men and others.

Yet he must learn every phase of all this work thoroughly, for some day, before he becomes an officer, he must be examined as to his knowledge of all this great mass of detail.

It is only when in port that some relaxation comes into the midshipman's life. He has shore leave, and a large measure of liberty. Yet he must, at all times, show all possible respect for the uniform that he wears and the great nation that he represents. If a midshipman permits himself to be led into scrapes that many college boys regard as merely "larks," he is considered a disgrace to the Naval service.

Always, at home and abroad, the "middy" must maintain his own dignity and that of his country and service. Should he fail seriously, he is regarded by his superiors and by the Navy Department as being unfit to defend the honor of his flag.

The wildest group from the summer practice fleet was that made up of Pennington and his friends. Pen received more money in France from his fond but foolish father. Wherever Pennington's group went, they cut a wide swath of "sport," though they did nothing actually dishonorable. Yet they were guilty of many pranks which, had the midshipmen been caught, would have resulted in demerits.

Ports in France, Spain, Portugal and Italy were touched briefly. At some of these ports the midshipmen received much attention.

But at last the fleet turned back past Gibraltar, and stood on for the Azores, the last landing point before reaching home.

When two nights out from Gibraltar a sharp summer gale overtook the fleet. Even the huge battleships labored heavily in the seas, the "Massachusetts" bringing up the rear.

She was in the same position when the morning broke. The midshipmen, after breakfast, enjoyed a few minutes on the deck before going below for duty in the engine rooms, the dynamo room, the "stoke hole" and other stations.

Suddenly, from the stern rail, there went up the startled cry:

"Man overboard!"

In an instant the marine sentry had tumbled two life-preservers over into the water.

With almost the swiftness of telegraphy the cry had reached the bridge. Without stopping to back the engine the big battleship's helm was thrown hard over, and the great steel fighting craft endeavored to find her own wake in the angry waters with a view to going back over it.

Signal men broke out the news to the flagship. The other two great battleships turned and headed back in the interests of humanity.

It seemed almost as though the entire fleet had been swung out of its course by pressure on an electric button.

Officers who were not on duty poured out. The captain was the first to reach the quarter-deck. He strode into the midst of a group of stricken-looking midshipmen.

"Who's overboard!" demanded the commanding officer.

"Hallam, sir——"

"And Darrin, sir——"

"And Dalzell, sir——"

"How many?" demanded the captain sharply.

"Three, sir."

"How did so many fall overboard?"

"Mr. Hallam was frolicking, sir," reported Midshipman Farley, "and lost his footing."

"But Mr. Darrin and Mr. Dalzell?" inquired the captain sharply.

"As soon as they realized it, sir, Darrin and Dalzell leaped overboard to go to Hallam's rescue, sir."

"It's a wonder," muttered the captain, glancing shrewdly at the bronzed, fine young fellows around him, "that not more of you went overboard as well."

"Many of them would, sir," replied Farley, "but an officer forward shouted: 'No more midshipmen go overboard,' So we stopped, sir."

Modest Mr. Farley did not mention the fact that he was running toward the stern, intent on following his chums into the rough sea at the very instant when the order reached him.

The captain, however, paused for no more information. He was now running forward to take the bridge beside the watch officer.

The midshipmen, too, hurried forward, mingling with the crew, as the big battleship swung around and tried to find her wake.

The flagship had crowded on extra steam, and was fast coming over the seas.

With such a sea running, it was well nigh impossible to make out so small a thing as a head or a life-preserver, unless it could be observed at the instant when it crested a wave.

Marine glasses were in use by every officer who had brought his pair to the deck. Others rushed back to their cabins to get them.

A lieutenant of the marine corps stood forward, close to a big group of sorrowing midshipmen.

"There are certain to be three vacancies in the Naval Academy," remarked the lieutenant.

"Don't say that, sir," begged Farley, in a choking voice. "The three overboard are among the finest fellows in the brigade!"

"I don't want to discourage any of you young gentlemen," continued the marine corps lieutenant. "But there's just about one chance in a thousand that we shall be able to sight and pick up any one of the unlucky three. In the first place, it would take a wonderful swimmer to live long in such a furious sea. In the second place, if all three are still swimming, it will be almost out of the question to make out their heads among the huge waves. You've none of you seen a man overboard before in a big sea?"

Several of the mute, anxious midshipmen shook their heads.

"You'll realize the difficulties of the situation within the next few minutes," remarked the lieutenant. "I am sorry to crush your hopes for your classmates, but this is all a part of the day's work in the Navy."

The largest steam launches from all three of the battleships were being swiftly lowered. Officers and men were lowered with the launches. As the launch shoved off from each battleship tremendous cheers followed them.

"Stop all unnecessary noise!" bellowed the watch officer from the bridge of the "Massachusetts." "You may drown out calls for help with your racket."

While the three battleships went back over their courses in more stately fashion, the launches darted here and there, until it seemed as though they must cover every foot within a square mile.

"I don't see how they can help finding the three," Farley declared hopefully.

"That is," put in another third classman, "if any of the three are still afloat."

"Stow all talk of that sort," ordered Farley angrily.

Other midshipmen joined in with their protests. When a man is overboard in an angry sea all hands left behind try to be optimists.

When fifteen minutes had been spent in the search the onlooking but helpless middies began to look worried.

At the end of half an hour some of them looked haggard. Farley's face was pitiable to see.

At the end of an hour of constant but fruitless searching hardly any one felt any hope of a rescue now.

All three midshipmen, the "man overboard" and his two willing, would-be rescuers, were silently conceded to be drowned.

Yet the hardest blow of all came when, at the end of an hour and a quarter, the flagship signaled the recall of the small boats.

Then, indeed, all hope was given up. In an utter human silence, save for the husky voicing of the necessary orders, the launches were hoisted on board. Then the flagship flew the signal for resuming the voyage.

There were few dry eyes among the third class midshipmen when the battleships fell in formation again and proceeded on their way.

As a result of more signals flown from the flagship, all unnecessary duties of midshipmen for the day were ordered suspended.

In the afternoon the chaplain on each battleship held funeral services over the three lost midshipmen. Officers, middies and crew attended on board each vessel.

IX. THE DESPAIR OF THE "RECALL"

Dave Darrin stood within ten feet of Hallam when that latter midshipman had lost his balance and fallen into the boiling sea.

Dave's spring to the stern rail was all but instantaneous. He was overboard, after his classmate, ere the marine had had time to leap to the life buoys.

Out of the corner of one eye Dan Dalzell saw the marine start on the jump, but Dan was overboard, also, too soon to see exactly what the marine sentry was doing.

Both daring midshipmen sank beneath the surface as they struck.

As Dan came up, however, his hand struck something solid and he clutched at it. It was one of the life buoys.

As he grasped it, and drew his head up a trifle, Dan saw another floating within thirty feet of him. Swimming hard, and pushing, Dan succeeded in reaching the other buoy. He now rested, holding on to both buoys.

"Now, where's David, that little giant?" muttered Dalzell, striving hard to see through the seething waters and over the tops of foam-crested waves.

After a few minutes Dan began to feel decidedly nervous.

"Yet Dave can't have gone down, for he's a better swimmer than I am," was Dan's consoling thought.

At last Dalzell caught sight of another head. He could have cheered, but he expended his breath on something more sensible.

"Dave!" he shouted. "Old Darry! This way! I have the life buoys."

At the same time, holding to both of them, but kicking frantically with his feet, Dalzell managed slowly to push the buoys toward Dave.

Soon after he had started, Dan did utter a cheer, even though it was checked by an inrush of salt water that nearly strangled him.

He saw two heads. Dave Darrin was coming toward him, helping Hallam.

The wind carried the cheer faintly to Dave. He raised his head a little in the water, and caught sight of Dan and the buoys.

Some three minutes it took the two chums to meet. Dave Darrin was all but exhausted, for Hallam was now unconscious.

As Darrin clutched at the buoy he tried to shout, though the voice came weakly:

"Catch hold of Hallam. I'm down and——"

But Dan understood, even before he heard. While Dave clutched at one of the life buoys Dalzell shot out an arm, dragging Hallam in to safety.

Now, it was Darrin who, with both arms, contrived to link the buoys together.

At last the youngsters had a chance to observe the fact that the battleships had put about and were coming back.

"We'll soon be all right," sighed Dave contentedly, as soon as he could speak. "There are thirty-five hundred officers, middies and sailors of the American Navy to look after our safety."

From where they lay as they hung to the buoys the chums could even see the launches lowered.

Dan, with some of the emergency lashing about the buoy, succeeded, after a good deal of effort, and with some aid from Dave, in passing a cord about Hallam and under the latter's armpits that secured that midshipman to one of the buoys. The next move of the chums was to lash the buoys together.

"Now," declared Dave, "we can't lose. We can hang on and be safe here for hours, if need be."

"But what a thundering long time it takes them to bring the battleships around to get to us!" murmured Midshipman Dalzell in wonder.

"Be sure not an unnecessary second has been lost," rejoined Dave. "We're learning something practical now about the handling of big craft."

"I wonder if Hally's a goner?" murmured Dan in an awe-struck voice.

"I don't believe it," Dave answered promptly. "Once we get him back aboard ship the medicos will do a little work over him and he'll sit up and want to know if dinner's ready."

Then they fell silent, for, with the roar of wind and waters, it was necessary for them to shout when they talked.

As the minutes went by slowly, the two conscious midshipmen found themselves filled with amazement.

A dozen times the launches darted by, not far away. It seemed impossible that the keen, restless eyes of the seekers should not discover the imperiled ones.

At such times Dave and Dan shouted with all the power of their lusty young lungs.

Alternately Dan and Dave tried the effect of rising as far as they could and frantically waving an arm. There was not a cap to wave among the three of them.

"I'm beginning to feel discouraged," grunted Dave in disgust at last. "They must have spent a full half day already looking for us."

"Merciful powers!" gasped Dan at last, as they rode half way up the slope of a big wave. "I just caught sight of the 'recall of boats' flying from the flagship!"

"No!" gasped Dave incredulously.

"Yes, I did!"

"But—"

"They've failed and have given up the search," spoke Dan rather despairingly.

"But—"

"We may as well face it," muttered Dan brokenly. "They don't believe that any of us has survived, and we've been abandoned."

"Then," spoke Dave Darrin very coolly, "there's nothing left for us but to die like men of the American Navy."

"It seems heartless, needless," protested Dan.

"No," broke in Darrin. "They've done their best. They're convinced that we're lost. And I should think they would be, after all the time they've searched for us—half a day, at least."

Dan said nothing, but tugged until he succeeded in bringing his watch up to the light.

"The blamed thing is water-logged," he uttered disgustedly.

"Why?"

"The hands point to less than half past nine!"

Darrin managed to get at his own watch.

"My timepiece doesn't call for half past nine, either," he announced.

"Can it be possible—"

"Yes; the time has only seemed longer, I reckon," observed Dalzell.

"Well, we'll face it like men," proposed Dave.

"Of course," nodded Dan. "At least, we're going down in the ocean, and we wear the American Naval uniform. If there's any choice in deaths, I guess that's as good and manly a one as we could choose."

"Poor old Hally won't know much about it, anyway, I guess," remarked Darrin, who seemed unnaturally cool. Possibly he was a bit dazed by the stunning nature of the fate that seemed about to overtake them.

"Maybe the ships will go by us in their final get-away," proposed Dan Dalzell very soberly.

"Not if I'm seaman enough to read the compass by what's visible of the sun," returned Midshipman Darrin.

"Then there's no help for it," answered Dan, choking slightly. "I wonder if we could do anything for Hallam?"

"We won't do anything to bring him to, anyway," muttered Darrin. "Under these circumstances I wouldn't do anything as mean as that to a dog!"

"Maybe he's dead already, anyway," proposed Dan, now hopefully.

"I hope so," came from Darrin.

Now they saw the not very distant battleships alter their courses and steam slowly away.

All was now desolation over the angry sea, as the battleships gradually vanished. The two conscious midshipmen were now resolved to face the end bravely. That was all they could do for themselves and their flag.

X. THE GRIM WATCH FROM THE WAVES

By the time that little more than the mastheads of the departing battleships were visible, Hallam opened his eyes.

It would have seemed a vastly kinder fate had he been allowed to remain unconscious to the last.

Hallam had not been strangled by the inrush of water. In going overboard, this midshipman had struck the water with the back of his head and had been stunned. In the absence of attention he had remained a long time unconscious.

Even now the hapless midshipman whose frollicking had been the cause of the disaster, did not immediately regain his full senses.

"Why, we're all in the water," he remarked after a while.

"Yes," assented Darrin, trying to speak cheerfully.

Midshipman Hallam remained silent for some moments before he next asked:

"How did it happen?"

"Fell overboard," replied Dan laconically, failing to mention who it was who had fallen over the stern.

Again a rather long silence on Hallam's part. Then, at last, he observed:

"Funny how we all fell over at the same time."

To this neither of his classmates made any rejoinder.

"See here," shouted Hallam, after a considerable period of silent wondering, "I remember it all now. I was fooling at the stern rail and I toppled overboard."

Dan nodded without words.

"And you fellows jumped in after me," roared Hallam, both his mental and bodily powers now beginning to return. "Didn't you?"

"Of course," assented Darrin rather reluctantly.

"And what became of the fleet!"

Dave and Dan looked at each other before the former replied:

"Oh, well, Hally, brace up! The ships searched for us a long time, and some launches were put out after us. But they couldn't see our little heads above the big waves, and so——"

"They've gone away and left us?" queried Hallam, guessing at once. "Now, fellows, I don't mind so much for myself, but it's fearful to think that I've dragged you into the same fate. It's awful! Why couldn't you have left me to my fate?"

"Would you have done a thing like that?" demanded Dave dryly.

"Oh, well, I suppose not, but—but—well, I wish I had been left to pay the price of my tomfoolery all alone. It would have served me right. But to drag you two into it—"

Hallam could go no further. He was choking up with honest emotion.

"Don't bother about it, Hally," urged Dave. "It's all in the day's work for a sailor. We'll just take it as it comes, old fellow."

To not one of the trio did it occur to let go of the life buoys and sink as a means of ending misery. In the first place, human instinct holds to hope. In the second place, suicide is the resort of cowards.

"None of you happened to hide any food in his pockets at breakfast, I take it?" asked Dan grimly, at last.

Of course they hadn't.

"Too bad," sighed Dan. "I'm growing terribly hungry."

"Catch a fish," smiled back Darrin.

"And eat it raw?" gasped Dalzell. "Darry, you know my tastes better than that."

"Then wait a few hours longer," proposed Dave, "until even raw fish will be a delicacy."

Hallam took no part in the chaffing. He was miserably conscious, all the while, that his own folly had been solely responsible for the present plight of these noble messmates.

Thus the time passed on. None kept any track of it; they realized only that it was still daylight.

Then suddenly Dave gave a gasp and raised one hand to point.

His two classmates turned and were able to make out the mastheads of a craft in the distance.

How they strained their eyes! All three stared and stared, until they felt tolerably certain that the craft was headed their way.

"They may see us!" cried Hallam eagerly.

"Three battleships and as many launches failed to find us," retorted Dan. "And they were looking for us, too."

As the vessel came nearer and the hull became visible, it took on the appearance of a liner.

"Why, it looks as though she'd run right over us when she gets nearer," cried Dave, his eyes kindling with hope.

"Don't get too excited over it," urged Dan. "For my part, I'm growing almost accustomed to disappointments."

As the minutes passed and the liner came on and on, it looked still more as though she would run down the three middies.

[Illustration: "Look! They See Us!"]

At last, however, the craft was passing, showing her port side, not very far distant, to be sure.

Uniting their voices, the three midshipmen yelled with all their power, even though they knew that their desperate call for help could not carry the distance over the subsiding gale.

Boom! That shot came from the liner, and now her port rail was black with people.

"They see us!" cried Hallam joyously. "Look! That craft is slowing up!"

Once more came the cheers of encouragement, as the liner, now some distance ahead, put off a heavy launch. A masthead lookout, who had first seen the midshipmen, was now signaling the way to the officer in command of the launch.

Unable to see for himself, the officer in the launch depended wholly on those masthead signals. So the launch steamed a somewhat zig-zag course over the waves. Yet, at last, it bore down straight upon the midshipmen.

Darrin, Dalzell and Hallam now came very near to closing their eyes, to lessen the suspense.

A short time more and all three were dragged in over the sides of the launch.

"Get those life buoys in, if you can," begged Dave, as he sank in the bottom of the launch. "They are United States property entrusted to our care."

From officer and seamen alike a laugh went up at this request, but the life buoys were caught with a boathook and drawn aboard.

What rousing cheers greeted the returning launch, from the decks of the liner, "Princess Irene"! When the three midshipmen reached deck and it was learned that they were midshipmen of the United States Navy, the cheering and interest were redoubled.

But the captain and the ship's doctor cut short any attempt at lionizing by rushing the midshipmen to a stateroom containing three berths. Here, under the doctor's orders, the trio were stripped and rubbed down. Then they were rolled into blankets, and hot coffee brought to them in their berths, while their wet clothing was sent below to one of the furnace rooms for hurried drying.

As soon as the medical man had examined them, the steamship's captain began to question them.

"Headed for the Azores, eh?" demanded the ship's master. "We ought to be able to sight your squadron before long."

He hastened out, to give orders to the deck officer.

By the time that the young midshipmen had been satisfactorily warmed, and their clothing had been dried, the ship's surgeon consented to their dressing. After this they were led to a private cabin where a satisfying meal was served them.

"Oh, I don't know," murmured Dan, leaning back, with a contented sigh, after the meal was over; "there are worse things than what happened to us to-day!"

The greater speed of the liner enabled her to sight the battleship squadron something more than two hours afterward. Then the nearest vessel of the fleet was steered for directly.

The deck officers of the liner sent their heavy overcoats for the use of the midshipmen, who, enveloped in these roomy garments, went out on deck to watch the pursuit of their own comrades.

Within another hour it was possible to signal, and from the "Princess Irene's" masthead the signal flags were broken out.

"Now, watch for excitement on board your own craft," smiled the liner's commander, an Englishman.

As soon as the liner's signal had been read by the vessels of the squadron a wild display of signal bunting swiftly broke out.

"Heaven be thanked!" read one set of signal flags.

"We have officially buried the young men, but ask them to go on living," read another.

While the most practical signal of all was:

"The 'Massachusetts' will fall astern of the squadron. Kindly stand by to receive her launch."

In a few minutes more the two vessels were close enough. Both stopped headway. One of the big battleship's launches put off and steamed over, rolling and pitching on the waves.

Most carefully indeed the three midshipmen climbed down a rope ladder and were received by an ensign from the "Massachusetts," who next gave the American Navy's profound thanks to the rescuers of the middies.

"Kindly lower that United States property that was in our care, sir!" Dave Darrin called up.

There was good-humored laughter above, and a look of amazement on Ensign White's face until the two buoys, attached to lines, were thrown down over the side.

"When your time comes you will make a very capable officer, I believe, Mr. Darrin, judging by your care of government property," remarked Ensign White, working hard to keep down the laughter.

"I hope to do so, sir," Dave replied, saluting.

Then away to the "Massachusetts" the launch bore, while the whole battleship squadron cheered itself hoarse over the happy outcome of the day.

Dave, Dan and Hallam all had to do a tremendous amount of handshaking among their classmates when they had reached deck. Pennington was the only one who did not come forward to hold his hand out to Darrin—a fact that was noted at the time by many of the youngsters.

To the captain the trio recounted what had befallen them, as matter for official record.

"Mr. Darrin and Mr. Dalzell," announced the battleship's captain, "I must commend you both for wholly heroic conduct in going to the aid of your classmate. And, Mr. Darrin, I am particularly interested in your incidental determination to preserve government property—the life buoys that you brought back with you."

"It's possible I may need them again, sir," returned Dave, with a smile, though he had no notion of prophetic utterance.

XI. MIDSHIPMAN PENNINGTON'S ACCIDENT

The stop at the Azores was uneventful. It remained in the minds of the midshipmen only as a pleasant recollection of a quaint and pretty place.

Once more the squadron set sail, and now the homeward-bound pennant was flying. The course lay straight across the Atlantic to the entrance of Chesapeake Bay.

On the second night out the wind was blowing a little less than half a gale.

Darkness had fallen when Dave, Dan, Farley and several other midshipmen gathered to talk in low tones at the stern rail.

Presently all of them wandered away but Dave. He stood close to the rail, enjoying the bumping motion every time the descending stern hit one of the rolling waves.

Presently, thinking he saw a light astern, he raised himself, peering astern.

Another group of restless middies had sauntered up. Pennington, after a swift look at the pacing officer in charge here, and discovering that the officer's back was turned, executed a series of swift cartwheels.

"Look out, Pen!" called Midshipman Dwight, in a low, though sharp voice.

Just too late the warning came.

As Pen leaped to his feet after the last turn, one of his hands struck Darrin forcefully.

Dave swayed, tried to clutch at something, then—

"O-o-o-oh!" rang the first startled chorus.

Then, instantly, on top of it, came the rousing hail:

"Man overboard—astern!"

Farley and Hallam were the first to reach the rail. But Lieutenant Burton was there almost as quickly.

"Haul back!" commanded the lieutenant sternly. "No one go overboard!"

That held the middies in check, for in no place, more than in the Navy, are orders orders.

Clack! was the sound that followed the first cry. Like a flash the marine sentry had thrown his rifle to the deck. A single bound carried him to one of the night life buoys. This he released, and hurled far astern.

As the night buoy struck the water a long-burning red light was fused by contact. The glow shone out over the waters.

In the meantime, the "Massachusetts's" speed was being slowed rapidly, and a boat's crew stood at quarters.

The boat put off quickly, guided by the glow of the red signal light on the buoy. Ere the boat reached the buoy the coxswain made out the head and shoulders of a young man above the rim of the floating buoy.

Soon after the boat lay alongside. Dave, with the coxswain's aid, pulled himself into the small craft.

Recovering the buoy, the coxswain flashed the red light three times. From the deck of the battleship came a cheering yell sent up from hundreds of throats.

In the meantime, however, while the boat was on its way to the buoy, a pulsing scene had been enacted on board.

Farley went straight up to Midshipman Pennington.

"Sir," demanded Farley hotly, "why did you push Mr. Darrin over the rail."

Pennington looked at his questioner as one stunned.

"I—I did push Darrin over," admitted Pennington, "but it was an accident."

"An easily contrived one, wasn't it?" demanded Midshipman Farley, rather cynically.

"It was pure accident," contended Pennington, paling. "Until it happened I hadn't the least idea in the world that I was going to send Mr. Darrin or anyone else overboard."

"Huh!" returned Farley dubiously.

"Huh!" quoth Hallam.

Dan Dalzell uttered not a word, but the gaze of his eyes was fixed angrily on Pennington.

That latter midshipman turned as white as a sheet. His hands worked as though he were attempting to clutch at something to hold himself up.

"Surely, you fellows don't believe, do you—" he stammered weakly, then paused.

"One thing we did notice, the other day," continued Farley briskly, "was that, when Darrin was rescued from the sea and returned to us, you were about the only member of the class who didn't go up to him and congratulate him on his marvelous escape."

"How could—"

"Mr. Pennington, I haven't the patience to talk with you now," rejoined Farley, turning on his heel.

At that moment the yell started among the midshipmen nearer the rail. Farley, Dan, Hallam and others joined in the yell and rushed to better points of vantage.

Pennington tried to join in the cheer, but his tongue seemed fixed to the roof of his mouth. He stood clenching and unclenching his hands, his face an ashen gray in his deep humiliation.

"I don't care what one or two fellows may say," groaned Pennington. "But I don't want the class to think such things of me."

He was the most miserable man on board as the small boat came alongside. The boat, occupants and all, was hoisted up to the davits and swung in-board. To the officer of the deck, who stood near-by, Dave turned, with a brisk salute.

"I beg to report that I've come aboard, sir," Darrin uttered.

"And very glad we are of it, Mr. Darrin," replied the officer. "You will go to your locker, change your clothing and then report to the captain, sir."

"Aye, aye, sir."

With another salute, Dave hastened below, followed by Dan Dalzell, who was intent on attending him.

Ten minutes later Dave appeared at the door of the captain's cabin. Just a few minutes after that he came out on deck.

A crowd gathered about him, expressing their congratulations.

"Thank you all," laughed Dave, "but don't make so much over a middy getting a bath outside of the schedule."

To the rear hung Pennington, waiting his chance. At last, as the crowd thinned, Pennington made his way up to Dave.

"Mr. Darrin, I have to apologize for my nonsense, which was the means of pushing you overboard. It was purely accidental, on my honor. I did not even know it was you at the stern, nor did I realize that my antics would result in pushing any one overboard. I trust you will do me the honor of believing my statement."

"Of course I believe it, Mr. Pennington," answered Darrin, opening his eyes.

"There are some," continued Pennington, "who have intimated to me their belief that I did it on purpose. There may be others who half believe or suspect that I might, or would, do such a thing."

"Nonsense!" retorted Dave promptly. "There may be differences, sometimes, between classmates, but there isn't a midshipman in the Navy who would deliberately try to drown a comrade. It's a preposterous insult against midshipman honor. If I hear any one make a charge like that, I'll call him out promptly."

"Some of your friends—I won't name them—insisted, or at least let me feel the force of their suspicions."

"If any of my friends hinted at such a thing, it was done in the heat of the moment," replied Dave heartily. "Why, Mr. Pennington, such an act of dishonor is impossible to a man bred at Annapolis."

Darrin fully believed what he said. On the spur of the moment he held out his hand to his enemy.

Pennington flushed deeply, for a moment, then put out his own hand, giving Dave's a hearty, straightforward grasp.

"I was the first to imply the charge," broke in Farley quickly. "I withdraw it, and apologize to both of you."

There was more handshaking.

During the next few days, while Darry and Pen did not become by any means intimate, they no longer made any effort to avoid each other, but spoke frankly when they met.

The remaining days of the voyage passed uneventfully enough, except for a great amount of hard work that the middies performed as usual.

On the twenty-second of August they entered Chesapeake Bay. Once well inside, they came to anchor. There was considerable practice with the sub-caliber and other smaller guns. On the twenty-ninth of August the battleship fleet returned to the familiar waters around Annapolis. The day after that the young men disembarked.

Then came a hurried skeltering, for the first, second and third classmen were entitled to leave during the month of September.

XII. BACK IN THE HOME TOWN

Back in the old, well-known streets of their home town, Gridley!

Dave and Dan, enjoying every minute of their month's leave, had already greeted their parents, and had told them much of their life as midshipmen.

What hurt was the fact that the skipper of the "Princess Irene" had already told the marine reporters in New York the thrilling story of how Dave and Dan had nearly come to their own deaths rescuing Midshipman Hallam.

Everyone in Gridley, it seemed, had read that newspaper story. Darrin and Dalzell, before they had been home twelve hours, were weary of hearing their praises sung.

"There go two of the smartest, finest boys that old Gridley ever turned out," citizens would say, pointing after Dave and Dan. "They're midshipmen at Annapolis; going to be officers of the Navy one of these days."

"But what's the matter with Dick Prescott and Greg Holmes? They're at West Point."

"Oh, they're all right, too, of course. But Darrin and Dalzell——"

It was the old circumstance of being "the lions of the minute" and of being on the spot.

On the first morning of his arrival home Dave Darrin went frankly and openly to call on his old schoolgirl sweetheart, Belle Meade.

Dan, having no particular associations with the gentler sex, took a stroll around town to meet any old friends who might care to see him again.

Dave was shown into the parlor at the Meade home. Soon after Belle came swiftly in, her face beaming with delight.

"Oh, but you're not in uniform!" was her first disappointed comment.

"No," smiled Dave. "I'm allowed every possible chance, for one month, to forget every detail of the big grind which for a short time I've left behind."

"But you're the same old Dave," cried Belle, "only bigger and manlier. And that magnificent work you and Dan did in jumping over-bo——"

"Stop!" begged Dave. "You're a friend of mine, aren't you! Then don't add to the pain that has been already inflicted on me. If I had had the newspapers in mind I wouldn't have the nerve to——But please let's not talk about it anymore."

Then the two young people seated themselves and spent a delightful hour in talking over all that had befallen them both since they had last met.

Belle, too, through Laura Bentley, had some much later news of the old chums, Dick and Greg, now cadets at West Point.

This news, however, will be found in full in "Dick Prescott's Second Year At West Point."

"What are your plans for this afternoon?" Belle asked at last.

"That's what I want your help in making," Dave answered.

"Can you get hold of Dan?"

"No trouble about that. But keeping hold of him may be more difficult," laughed Dave.

"I was going to propose that you get Dan, call here and then we'll all go over to Laura Bentley's. I know she'll be anxious to see us."

"Nothing could be better in the way of a plan," assented Dave. "I'll pin Danny boy down to that. It would really seem like a slight on good old Dick if we didn't make Laura an early call."

"I'll go to the telephone, now, and tell her that we're coming," cried Belle, rising quickly.

"Laura is delighted," she reported, on her return to the room. "But Dave, didn't you at least bring along a uniform, so that we could see what it looks like?"

"I didn't," replied Dave, soberly, then added, quizzically:

"You've seen the district messenger boys on the street, haven't you?"

"Yes, of course; but what—"

"Our uniforms look very much like theirs," declared Dave.

"I'm afraid I can't undertake to believe you," Belle pouted.

"Well, anyway, you girls will soon have a chance to see our uniforms. Just as soon as our hops start, this fall, you and Laura will come down and gladden our hearts by letting us drag you, won't you!"

"Drag us?" repeated Belle, much mystified.

"Oh, that's middies' slang for escorting a pretty girl to a midshipman hop."

"You have a lot of slang, then, I suppose."

"Considerable," admitted Dave readily.

"What, then, is your slang for a pretty girl?"

"Oh, we call her a queen."

"And a girl who is—who isn't—pretty!"

"A gold brick," answered Dave unblushingly.

"A gold brick?" gasped Belle. "Dear me! 'Dragging a gold brick' to a hop doesn't sound romantic, does it?"

"It isn't," Darrin admitted.

"Yet you have invited me—"

"Our class hasn't started in with its course of social compliments yet," laughed Dave. "Please go look in the glass. Or, if you won't believe the glass, then just wait and see how proud Dan and I are if we can lead you and Laura out on the dancing floor."

"But what horrid slang!" protested Belle. "The idea of calling a homely girl a gold brick! And I thought you young men received more or less training in being gracious to the weaker sex."

"We do," Dave answered, "as soon as we can find any use for the accomplishment. Fourth classmen, you know, are considered too young to associate with girls. It's only now, when we've made a start in the third class, that we're to be allowed to attend the hops at all."

"But why must you have to have such horrid names for girls who have not been greatly favored in the way of looks? It doesn't sound exactly gallant."

"Oh, well, you know," laughed Dave, "we poor, despised, no-account middies must have some sort of sincere language to talk after we get our masks off for the day. I suppose we like the privilege, for a few minutes in each day, of being fresh, like other young folks."

"What is your name for 'fresh' down at Annapolis!" Belle wanted to know.

"Touge."

"And for being a bit worse than touge?"

"Ratey."

"Which did they call you?" demanded Belle.

Dave started, then sat up straight, staring at Miss Meade.

"I see that your tongue hasn't lost its old incisiveness," he laughed.

"Not among my friends," Belle replied lightly. "But I can't get my mind off that uniform of yours that you didn't bring home. What would have happened to you if you had been bold enough to do it?"

"I guess I'd have 'frapped the pap,'" hazarded Dave.

"And what on earth is 'frapping the pap'?" gasped Belle.

"Oh, that's a brief way of telling about it when a midshipman gets stuck on the conduct report."

"I'm going to buy a notebook," asserted Belle, "and write down and classify some of this jargon. I'd hate to visit a strange country, like Annapolis, and find I didn't know the language. And, Dave, what sort of place is Annapolis, anyway?"

"Oh, it's a suburb of the Naval Academy," Dave answered.

"Is it dreadfully hard to keep one's place in his class there?" asked Belle.

"Well, the average fellow is satisfied if he doesn't 'bust cold,'" Dave informed her.

"Gracious! What sort of explosion is 'busting cold'?"

"Why, that means getting down pretty close to absolute zero in all studies. When a fellow has the hard luck to bust cold the superintendent allows him all his time, thereafter, to go home and look up a more suitable job than one in the Navy. And when a fellow bilges——"

"Stop!" begged Belle. "Wait!"

She fled from the room, to return presently bearing the prettiest hat that Dave ever remembered having seen on her shapely young head. In one hand she carried a dainty parasol that she turned over to him.

"What's the cruise?" asked Darrin, rising.

"I'm going out to get that notebook, now. Please don't talk any more 'midshipman' to me until I get a chance to set the jargon down."

As she stood there, such a pretty and wholesome picture, David Darrin thought he never before had seen such a pretty girl, nor one dressed in such exquisite taste. Being a boy, it did not occur to him that Belle Meade had been engaged for weeks in designing this gown and others that she meant to wear during his brief stay at home.

"What are you thinking of?" asked Belle.

"What a pity it is that I am doomed to a short life," sighed Darrin.

"A short life? What do you mean?" Belle asked.

"Why, I'm going to be assassinated, the first hop that you attend at the Naval Academy."

"So I'm a gold brick, am I?" frowned Belle.

"You—a—gold brick?" stammered Dave. "Why, you—oh, go look in the glass!"

"Who will assassinate you?"

"A committee made up from among the fellows whose names I don't write down on your dance card. And there are hundreds of them at Annapolis. You can't dance with them all."

"I don't intend to," replied Belle, with a toss of her head. "I'll accept, as partners, only those who appear to me the handsomest and most distinguished looking of the midshipmen. No one else can write his name on my card."

"Dear girl, I'm afraid you don't understand our way of making up dance cards at Crabtown."

"Where?"

"Crabtown. That's our local name for Annapolis."

"Gracious! Let me get out quickly and get that notebook!"

"At midshipmen's hops the fellow who drags the——"

"Gold brick," supplied Belle, resignedly.

"No—not for worlds! You're no gold brick, Belle, and you know it, even though you do refuse to go to the mirror. But the fellow who drags any femme—"

"Please—?"

"'Femme' stands for girl. The fellow who drags any femme makes up her dance card for her."

"And she hasn't a word to say about it?"

"Not as a rule."

"Oh!" cried Belle, dramatically.

She moved toward the door. Dave, who could not take his eyes from her pretty face, managed, somehow, to delay her.

"Belle, there's something—" he began.

"Good gracious! Where? What?" she cried, looking about her keenly.

"It's something I want to say—must say," Dave went on with more of an effort than anyone but himself could guess.

"Tell me, as we're going down the street," invited Belle.

"Wha-a-at?" choked Dave. "Well, I guess not!"

He faced her, resting both hands lightly on her shoulders.

"Belle, we were pretty near sweethearts in the High School, I think," he went on, huskily, but looking her straight in the eyes. "At least, that was my hope, and I hope, most earnestly, that it's going to continue. Belle, I am a long way from my real career, yet. It will be five years, yet, before I have any right to marry. But I want to look forward, all the time, to the sweet belief that my schoolgirl sweetheart is going to become my wife one of these days. I want that as a goal to work for, along with my commission in the Navy. But to this much I agree: if you say 'yes' now, and find later that you have made a mistake, you will tell me so frankly."

"Poor boy!" murmured Belle, looking at him fully. "You've been a plebe until lately, and you haven't been allowed to see any girls. I'm not going to take advantage of you as heartlessly as that."

Yet something in her eyes gave the midshipman hope.

"Belle," he continued eagerly, "don't trifle with me. Tell me—will you marry me some day?"

Then there was a little more talk and—well, it's no one's business.

"But we're not so formally engaged," Belle warned him, "that you can't write me and draw out of the snare if you wish when you're older. And I'm not going to wear any ring until you've graduated from the Naval Academy. Do you understand that, Mr. David Darrin?"

"It shall be as you say, either way," Dave replied happily.

"And now, let us get started, or we shan't get out on the street to-day," urged Belle.

Then they passed out on the street, and no ordinarily observant person would have suspected them of being anything more than school friends.

Being very matter-of-fact in some respects, Belle's first move was to go to a stationer's, where she bought a little notebook bound in red leather.

Dave tried to pay for that purchase, but Belle forestalled him.

"Why didn't you allow me to make you that little gift?" he asked in a low tone, when they had reached the street.

"Wait," replied Belle archly. "Some day you may find your hands full in that line."

"One of my instructors at Annapolis complimented me on having very capable hands," Dave told her dryly.

"The instructor in boxing?" asked Belle.

It was a wonderfully delightful stroll that the middy and his sweetheart enjoyed that September forenoon.

Once Dave sighed, so pronouncedly that Belle shot a quick look of questioning at him.

"Tired of our understanding already?" she demanded.

"No; I was thinking how sorry I am for Danny boy! He doesn't know the happiness of having a real sweetheart."

"How do you know he doesn't?" asked Belle quickly. "Does he tell you everything?"

"No; but I know Danny's sea-going lines pretty well. I'd suspect, at least, if he had a sweetheart."

"Are you sure that you would?"

"Oh, yes! By gracious! There's Danny going around the corner above at this very moment."

Belle had looked in the same instant.

"Yes; and a skirt swished around the corner with him," declared Belle impressively. "It would be funny, wouldn't it, if you didn't happen to know all about Dan Dalzell?"

In the early afternoon, however, the mystery was cleared up.

On the street Dalzell had encountered Laura Bentley. Both were full of talk and questions concerning Dick Prescott and Greg Holmes, at West Point, for which reason Dan had strolled home with Miss Bentley without any other thought, on the midshipman's part, than playing substitute gallant for his chum, Cadet Richard Prescott, U.S. Military Academy.

A most delightful afternoon the four young people spent together at the Bentley home.

These were the forerunners of other afternoons.

Belle and Laura, however, were not able to keep their midshipmen to themselves.

Other girls, former students at the High School, arranged a series of affairs to which the four young people were invited.

Dave's happiest moments were when he had Belle to himself, for a stroll or chat.

Dan's happiest moments, on the other hand, were when he was engaged in hunting the old High School fellows, or such of them as were now at home. For many of them had entered colleges or technical schools. Tom Reade and Harry Hazelton, of the famous old Dick & Co., of High School days, were now in the far southwest, under circumstances fully narrated in "The Young Engineers In Arizona," the second volume of "The Young Engineers' Series.'"

Day by day Belle jotted down in her notebook more specimens of midshipman slang.

"I shall soon feel that I can reel off the language like a native of Crabtown," she confided laughingly to Dare.

"It won't be very long before you have an opportunity to try," Dave declared, "if you and Laura embrace your first opportunity to come to a middy hop."

Dan had a happy enough time of it, even though Dave's suspicion was true in that Dan had no sweetheart. That, however, was Dan's fault entirely, as several of the former High School girls would have been willing to assure him.

Since even the happiest times must all end so the latter part of September drew near.

Then came the day when Dave and Dan met at the railway station. A host of others were there to see them off, for the midshipmen still had crowds of friends in the good old home town.

A ringing of bells, signaling brakesmen, a rolling of steel wheels and the two young midshipmen swung aboard the train, to wave their hats from the platform.

Gridley was gone—lost to sight for another year. Dan was exuberant during the first hour of the journey, Dave unusually silent.

"You need a vast amount of cheering up, David, little giant!" exclaimed Dalzell.

"Oh, I guess not," smiled Dave Darrin quietly, adding to himself, under his breath:

"I carry my own good cheer with me, now."

Lightly his hand touched a breast pocket that carried the latest, sweetest likeness of Miss Belle Meade.

One journey by rail is much like another to the traveler who pays little heed to the scenery.

At the journey's end two well-rested midshipmen joined the throng of others at Crabtown.

XIII. DAN RECEIVES A FEARFUL FACER

"Oh, you heap!" sighed Dan Dalzell dismally.

He sat in his chair, in their new quarters in Bancroft Hall, United States Naval Academy, gazing in mock despair at the pile of new books that he had just drawn.

These text-books contained the subjects in which a midshipman is required to qualify in his second academic year.

"Been through the books for a first look?" called Dave from behind his own study table.

"Some of 'em," admitted Dalzell. "I'm afraid to glance into the others."

"I've looked in all of my books," continued Darrin, "and I've just come to a startling conclusion."

"What?"

"I'm inclined to believe that I have received a complete set of text-books for the first and second classes."

"No such luck!" grunted Dan, getting up and going over to his chum. "Let me see if you got all the books I did."

Before Dave could prevent it, Dan started a determined over-tossing of the book pile. As he did so, Dan suddenly uncovered a photograph from which a fair, sweet, laughing face gazed up at him.

"Oh, I beg a million pardons, Dave, old boy!" cried Dalzell.

"You needn't," came Dave's frank answer. "I'm proud of that treasure and of all it means to me."

"And I'm glad for you, David, little giant."

Their hands met in hearty clasp, and that was all that was said on that subject at the time.

"But, seriously," Dan grumbled on, after a while, "I'm aghast at what an exacting government expects and demands that we shall know. Just look over the list—mechanical drawing and mechanical processes, analytical geometry, calculus, physics, chemistry, English literature, French and Spanish, integral calculus, spherical trigonometry, stereographic projection and United States Naval history! David, my boy, by the end of this year we'll know more than college professors do."

"Aren't you getting a big head, Danny?" queried Darrin, looking up with a smile.

"I am," assented Dalzell, "and I admit it. Why, man alive, one has to have a big head here. No small head would contain all that the Academic Board insists on crowding into it."

By the time that the chums had attended the first section recitations on the following day, their despair was increased.

"Davy, I don't see how we are ever going to make it, this year," Dalzell gasped, while they were making ready for supper formation. "We'll bilge this year without a doubt."

"There's only one reason I see for hoping that we can get through the year with fair credit," murmured Darrin.

"And what's that?"

"Others have done it, before us, and many more are going to do it this year," replied Dave slowly, as he laid comb and brush away and drew on his uniform blouse.

"I know men have gotten through the Naval Academy in years gone by," Dalzell agreed. "But, the first chance that I have, I'm going to look the matter up and see whether the middies of old had any such fearful grind as we have our noses held to."

"Oh, we'll do it," declared Darrin confidently. "I shall, anyway—for I've got to!"

As he spoke he was thinking of Belle Meade, and of her prospects in life as well as his own.

As the days went by, however, Dave and Dan became more and more dull of spirits. The grind was a fearful one. A few very bright youngsters went along all right, but to most of the third classmen graduation began to look a thousand years away.

The football squad was out now and training in deadly earnest. There were many big games to be played, but most of all the middies longed to tow West Point's Army eleven into the port of defeat.

In their first year Dave and Dan had looked forward longingly to joining the gridiron squad. They had even practised somewhat. But now they realized that playing football in the second year at Annapolis must be, for them, merely a foolish dream.

"I'm thankful enough if I can study day and night and keep myself up to 2.5," confessed Darrin, as he and Dan chatted over their gridiron longings.

Two-and-five tenths is the lowest marking, on a scale of four, that will suffice to keep a midshipman in the Naval Academy.

"I'm not going to reach 2.5 in some studies this month," groaned Dan. "I know that much by way of advance information. The fates be thanked that we're allowed until the semi-ans to pick up. But the question is, are we ever going to pick up? As I look through my books it seems to me that every succeeding lesson is twice as hard as the one before it."

"Other men have gone through, every year."

"And still other men have been dropped every year," Dalzell dolefully reminded him.

"We're among those who are going to stay," Dave contended stubbornly.

"Then I'm afraid we'll be among those who are dropped after Christmas and come back, next year, as bilgers," Dalzell groaned.

"Now, drop that!" commanded Darrin, almost roughly. "Remember one thing, Daniel little lion slayer! My congressman and your senator won't appoint us again, if we fail now. No talk of that kind, remember. We've got to make our standing secure within the next few weeks."

Before the month was over the football games began in earnest on the athletic field. Darrin and Dalzell, however, missed every game. They were too busy poring over their text-books. Fortunately for them their drills, parades and gym. work furnished them enough exercise.

The end of October found Darrin at or above 2.5 in only three studies. Dan was above 2.5 in two studies—below that mark in all others.

"It's a pity my father never taught me to swear," grumbled Dalzell, in the privacy of their room.

"Stow that talk," ordered Darrin, "and shove off into the deeper waters of greater effort."

"Greater effort?" demanded Dan, in a rage. "Why I study, now, every possible moment of the time allowed for such foolishness. And we can't run a light. Right after taps the electric light is turned off at the master switch."

"We're wasting ninety seconds of precious time, now, in grumbling," uttered Dave, seating himself doggedly at his study table.

"Got any money, Darry?" asked Dalzell suddenly.

"Yes; are you broke?"

"I am, and the next time I go into Annapolis I mean to buy some candles."

"Don't try that, Danny. Running a light is dangerous, and doubly so with candles. The grease is bound to drip, and to be found in some little corner by one of the discipline officers. It would be no use to study if you are going to get frapped on the pap continuously."

Immediately after supper both midshipmen forfeited their few minutes of recreation, going at once back to their study tables. There they remained, boning hard until the brief release sounded before taps was due.

Almost at the sound of the release there came a knock at the door. Farley and his roommate, Page, came bounding in.

"I've got to say something, or I'll go daffy," cried Farley, rubbing his eyes. "Fellows, did you ever hear of such downright abuse as the second year course of studies means?"

"It is tough," agreed Dave. "But what can we do about it, except fight it out?"

"Can you make head or tail out of calculus?" demanded Farley.

"No," admitted Darrin, "but I hope to, one of these days."

Just then Freeman, of the first class, poked his head in, after a soft knock.

"What is this—a despair meeting?" he called cheerily.

"Yes," groaned Page. "We're in a blue funk over the way recitations are going."

"Oh, buck up, kiddies!" called Freeman cheerily, as he crossed the floor. "Youngsters always get in the doldrums at the beginning of the year."

"You're a first classman. When you were in the third class did you have all the studies that we have now?"

"Every one of them, sir," affirmed Midshipman Freeman gravely, though there was a twinkle in his eyes.

"And did you come through the course easily?" asked Page.

"Not easily," admitted the first classman. "There isn't anything at Annapolis that is easy, except the dancing. In fact, during the first two months very few of our class came along like anything at all. After that, we began to do better. By the time that semi-ans came around nearly all of us managed to pull through. But what seems to be the worst grind of all—the real blue paint?"

"Calculus!" cried the four youngsters in unison.

"Why, once you begin to see daylight in calculus it's just as easy as taking a nap," declared the first classman.

"At present it seems more like suffering from delirium," sighed Dave.

"What's the hard one for to-morrow?" asked Freeman.

"Here it is, right here," continued Dave, opening his text-book. "Here's the very proposition."

The others crowded about, nodding.

"I remember that one," laughed Freeman lightly. "Our class named it 'sticky fly paper.'"

"It was rightly named," grumbled Farley.

"None of you four youngsters see through it?" demanded Midshipman Freeman.

"Do you mean to claim, sir, that you ever did?" insisted Dan Dalzell.

"Not only once, but now," grinned Mr. Freeman. "You haven't been looking at this torturing proposition from the right angle—that's all. Now, listen, while I read it."

"Oh, we all know how it runs, Mr. Freeman," protested Page.

"Nevertheless, listen, while I read it."

As the first classman read through the proposition that was torturing them he threw an emphasis upon certain words that opened their eyes better as to the meaning.

"Now, it works out this way," continued the first classman, bending over the disk and drawing paper and pencil toward him. "In the first place."

Freeman seemed to these youngsters like a born demonstrator. Within five minutes he had made the "sticky fly paper" problem so plain to them all that they glanced from one to another in astonishment.

"Why, it does seem easy," confessed Farley.

"It sounds foolish, now," grinned Darrin. "I'm beginning to feel ashamed of myself."

"Mr. Freeman," protested Page, "you've saved us from suicide, or some other gruesome fate."

"Then I'll drop in once in a while again," promised the first classman.

"But that will take time from your own studies," remonstrated Darrin generously.

"Not in the least. I won't come around before release. By the time a fellow reaches the first class, if he's going to graduate anyway, he doesn't have to study as hard as a youngster does. The man who reaches the first class has had all the habits of true study ground into him."

Darrin, Dalzell, Farley and Page were all in different sections in mathematics. When they recited, next day, it so happened that each was the man to have the "sticky fly paper" problem assigned to him by the instructor. Each of the quartette received a full "4" for the day's marking.

"Did you have any assistance with this problem, Mr. Darrin?" asked Dave's instructor.

"Yes, sir; a member of the first class tried to make it plain to me last night."

"He appears to have succeeded," remarked the instructor dryly.

There was, however, no discredit attached to having received proper assistance before coming into section.

True to his promise Freeman dropped in every fourth or fifth evening, to see if he could be of any help to the four youngsters. Always he found that he could be.

Even when Thanksgiving came, Dave Darrin did not go to Philadelphia, but remained at the Academy, devoting his time to study.

Dan, in sheer desperation, took in the trip to Philadelphia. He hoped to meet Dick Prescott and Greg Holmes, but they did not come down from West Point.

On the first day of December, Dan Dalzell's name was formally reported by the Academic Board in a report to the superintendent which recommended that Midshipman Dalzell be dropped from the rolls for "inaptitude in his studies."

Poor Dan. It was a staggering blow. Yet it struck Dave Darrin just about as hard.

XIV. THE FIRST HOP WITH THE HOME GIRLS

That report was allowed to reach Dan's ears on a Friday.

On the evening of the day following there was to be a midshipman hop on the floor of the great gym.

Moreover, it was the very hop that Belle Meade and Laura Bentley had finally selected to attend. Mrs. Meade was coming with the girls as chaperon.

"Oh, but I shall feel fine and light hearted for going to the dance!" muttered Dan miserably. "Facing the kick-off from the Academy, and doing the light hearted and the fantastic toe with the girls."

"I shan't feel a whole lot more merry myself," sighed Dave, as he gazed affectionately, wistfully at his chum. "Danny, this has hit me about as hard as it has you. And it warns me, too, that my turn will probably come next. I don't stand an awful lot higher in my markings than you do."

"Doesn't it feel fine to be a bilger?" gulped Dalzell, staring at the floor.

A "bilger," as has been already explained, is a midshipman who has failed and has been dropped.

"Oh, but you're not a bilger, yet!" cried Darrin, leaping up and resting both hands on his chum's shoulder.

"What's the odds?" demanded Dan grimly. "I shall be, after I've been before the Board next Monday forenoon at ten o'clock."

"Nonsense! Not if you make a good fight!"

"Fight—nothing!" sighed Dan wearily. "In a fight there's some one else that you can hit back at. But I won't have a blessed soul to fight. I'm up against a gang who are all referees, and all down on me at the outset."

"Nonsense," combatted Dave. "You——"

"Oh, that's all right, David, little giant," returned Dalzell with an attempt at cheeriness. "You mean well, but a fellow isn't reported deficient unless he's so far behind that the Board has his case settled in advance. From all I can hear it isn't once in a camel's age that a fellow so reported, and ordered before the Board, gets off with anything less than a hard, wet bilge. What I'm thinking of now is, what am I going to pick up as a career when I go home from here as a failure."

If it hadn't been for the pride he felt in still having the uniform on, Dalzell might not have been able to check the tears that tried to flow.

"Come on," commanded Dave, leaping up, "we'll run up to the deck above, and see if we can't find Mr. Freeman in."

"What good will that do?" demanded Dan. "Freeman is a first classman, but he hasn't any particular drag with the Board."

"It won't do any harm, anyway, for us to have a talk with an older classman," argued Dave. "Button your blouse, straighten your hair and come along."

"So it's as bad as that, is it!" asked Freeman sympathetically, after his cheery "come in" had admitted the unhappy youngsters.

"Yes," replied Dave incisively. "Now, the question is, what can be done about it?"

"I wish you had asked me an easier one," sighed the first classman. "You're mighty well liked, all through the Academy, Dalzell, and every one of us will hate to see you go."

"But what can be done to ward off that fate?" insisted Darrin as impatiently as a third classman might speak to a venerable first classman.

"Well, now, I want to think over that," confessed Freeman frankly. "Of course, Dalzell's record, this term, is in black and white, and can't be gainsaid. It's just possible our young friend can put up some line of talk that will extend his time here, and perhaps enable him to pull through. It's a mighty important question, so I'll tell you what we'll do. Of course, the hop comes on for to-morrow night. Let me have until Sunday evening. Meanwhile I'll talk with some of the other fellows of my class. You both come in here Sunday evening, and I'll have the answer for you—if there's any possible way of finding one."

With that the chums had to be content. Expressing their gratitude to this friendly first classman, they withdrew.

That Saturday forenoon Dan did considerably better with the two recitations that he had in hand.

"I got easier questions than usual, I guess," he said to Dave, with a mournful smile.

After Saturday dinner, Dave and Dan, having secured permission to visit in Annapolis, steered their course through the gate, straight up Maryland Avenue, through State Circle and around into Main Street, to the Maryland House.

At the desk they sent up their cards to Mrs. Meade, then stepped into the parlor.

Barely two minutes had passed when Belle and Laura flew downstairs.

"Mother says she'll be down as soon as she fancies you'll care about seeing her," laughed Belle.

"And how are you getting on in your classes?" asked Laura Bentley, glancing straight at unhappy Dan.

Both midshipmen had agreed not to mention a word of Dan's heartache to either of the girls.

Dan gulped hard, though he managed to conceal the fact.

Darrin, however, was ready with the answer:

"Oh, we're having pretty rough sailing, but we're both still in our class."

Which statement was wholly truthful.

"Up at West Point," Laura continued, "Dick told us that the first two years were the hardest for a man to keep his place. I fancy it's just about the same here, isn't it?"

"Just about," Dave nodded. "The first two years are hardest because it takes all that time for a fellow to get himself keyed up to the gait of study that is required in the government academies. But won't you let us talk about something that's really pleasant, girls?" Dave asked, with his charming smile. "Suppose we talk about yourselves. My, but you girls are good to look at!"

After that, the conversation was shifted to lighter subjects.

Even Dan, in the joy of meeting two girl friends from home, began to be less conscious of his load of misery.

Presently Mrs. Meade came down. She chatted with the two fine-looking young midshipmen for a few moments. Then Dave proposed:

"Wouldn't you like us to escort you through the Academy grounds, so that you can get a good idea of the place in daylight?"

"We've been waiting only for you to invite us," rejoined Belle.

For the next two hours the time was passed pleasantly.

But Belle, behind all her light chatter, was unusually keen and observing.

"Is anything wrong with either of you?" she asked Dave suddenly, when this pair were out of easy hearing of the others.

"Why do you ask that?" inquired Dave, looking at her in his direct fashion.

"Why, I may be unnecessarily sensitive, but I can't help feeling that some sort of disaster is hanging over either you or Dan."

"I hope not," replied Darrin evasively.

"Dave, that isn't a direct answer," warned Belle, raising her eyebrows. "Do you consider me entitled to one?"

"Yes. What's the question?"

"Are you in any trouble here?"

"No, I'm thankful to say."

"Then is Dan!"

"Belle, I'd rather not answer that."

"Why——"

"Well, because, if he is, I'd rather not discuss it."

"Has Dan been caught in any scrape?"

"No. His conduct record is fine."

"Then it must be failure in his studies."

Dave did not answer.

"Why don't you tell me?" insisted Belle.

"If anything were in the wind, Belle, we'd rather not tell you and spoil your visit. And don't ask Dan anything about it."

"I think I know enough," went on Belle thoughtfully and sympathetically. "Poor Dan! He's one of the finest of fellows."

"There are no better made," retorted Dave promptly.

"If anything happens to Dan here, dear, I know you will feel just as unhappy about it as if it happened to yourself."

"Mighty close to it," nodded Darrin. "But it would be a double heartbreak for me, if I had to leave."

"Why?"

"On account of the future I've planned for you, Belle."

"Oh, you silly boy, then!" Belle answered, smiling into his eyes. "I believe I have half committed myself to the idea of marrying you when you've made your place in life. But it was Dave Darrin to whom I gave that half promise—not a uniform of any sort. Dave, if anything ever happens that you have to quit here, don't imagine that it's going to make a particle of difference in our understanding."

"You're the real kind of sweetheart, Belle!" murmured Dave, gazing admiringly at her flushed face.

"Did you ever suspect that I wasn't?" asked Miss Meade demurely.

"Never!" declared Midshipman Darrin devoutly. "Nevertheless, it's fine to be reassured once in a while."

"What a great fellow Dan is!" exclaimed Belle a few minutes later. "See how gayly he is chatting with Laura. I don't believe Laura guesses for a moment that Dan Dalzell is just as game a fellow as the Spartan boy of olden times."

XV. A DISAGREEABLE FIRST CLASSMAN

The hop that night was one of the happiest occasions Dave had ever known, yet it was destined to result in trouble for him.

Midshipman Treadwell, of the first class, caught sight of Belle as she entered the gym at Dave Darrin's side.

With Treadwell it happened to be one of those violent though unusually silly affairs known as "love at first sight."

As for Belle, she was not likely to have eyes for anyone in particular, save Dave.

Treadwell, who had come alone, and who was not to be overburdened with dances, went after Dave as soon as that youngster left Belle for the first time.

"Mighty sweet looking girl you have with you, Darry," observed the first classman, though he took pains not to betray too much enthusiasm.

"Right!" nodded Dave.

"You'll present me, won't you?"

"Assuredly, as soon as I come back. I have a little commission to attend to."

"And you might be extremely kind, Darry, and write me down for a couple of numbers on Miss——"

"Miss Meade is the young lady's name."

"Then delight me by writing down a couple of reservations for me on Miss Meade's card."

Darrin's face clouded slightly.

"I'd like to, Treadwell, but the card is pretty crowded, and some other fellows—"

"One dance, anyway, then."

"I will, then, if there's a space to be left, and if Miss Meade is agreeable," promised Dave, as he hurried away.

Two minutes later, when he returned, looking very handsome, indeed, in his short-waisted, gold-laced dress coat, Dave felt his arm touched.

"I'm waiting for you to keep your engagement with me," Midshipman Treadwell murmured.

"Come along; I shall be delighted to present you to Miss Meade."

Since every midshipman is granted to be a gentleman, midshipman etiquette does not require that the lady be consulted about the introduction.

"Miss Meade," began Dave, bowing before his sweetheart, "I wish to present Mr. Treadwell"

Belle's greeting was easy. Treadwell, gazing intensely into her eyes, exchanged a few commonplaces. Belle, entirely at her ease, did not appear to be affected by the battery of Mr. Treadwell's gaze. Then good breeding required that the first classman make another bow and stroll away.

As he left, Treadwell murmured in Dare's ear:

"Don't forget that dance, Darry! Two if there is any show."

Midshipman Darrin nodded slightly. As he turned to Belle, that young lady demanded lightly:

"Is that pirate one of your friends, Dave?"

"Not more so than any other comrades in the brigade," Darrin answered. "Why?"

"Nothing, only I saw you two speaking together a little while ago——"

"That was when he was asking me to present him."

"Then, after you left him," continued Belle, in a low voice, "Mr. Treadwell scowled after you as though he could have demolished you."

"Why, I've no doubt Mr. Treadwell is very jealous of me," laughed Damn happily. "Why shouldn't he be? By the way, will you let me see your dance card? Mr. Treadwell asked me to write his name down for one or two dances."

"Please don't," begged Belle suddenly, gripping her dance card tightly. "I hope you don't mind, Dave," she added in a whisper, "but I've taken just a shadow of a dislike to Mr. Treadwell, after the way that he scowled after you. I—I really don't want to dance with him."

Dave could only bow, which he did. Then other midshipmen were presented. Belle's card was quickly filled, without the appearance of Midshipman Treadwell's name on it.

The orchestra struck up. Dave danced the first two numbers with Belle, moving through a dream of happiness as he felt her waist against his arm, one of her hands resting on his shoulder.

The second dance was a repetition of Dave's pleasure. Then Dave and Dan exchanged partners for two more dances.

After their first dance, a waltz, Dave led Laura to a seat.

"Will you get me a glass of water, Dave?" Laura asked, fanning herself.

As Dave hastened away he felt, once more, a light, detaining touch.

"Darry, did you save those two dances for me with Miss Meade?" asked Treadwell.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Dave replied. "But there had been many other applicants. By the time that Miss Meade's card was filled there were many disappointed ones."

"And I'm one of them?" demanded Mr. Treadwell.

"Very sorry," replied Darrin regretfully, "but you were one of the left-over ones."

"Very good, sir," replied Treadwell coldly, and moved away.

"Now, I'll wager anything that Treadwell is sore with me," murmured Dave to himself. "However, Belle is the one to be pleased."

It was a particularly gay and pleasant hop. When it was over Dave and Dan escorted the girls and Mrs. Meade back to the hotel. The little room in Bancroft Hall seemed especially small and dingy to the returning midshipmen.

Especially was Dan Dalzell in the blues. Though he had been outwardly gay with the girls, he now suffered a re-action. Dave, too, shivered for his friend.

Mrs. Meade and the girls returned by an early morning train, so the two chums did not see the girls again during that visit.

On Sunday, Dave went at his books with a dogged air, after morning chapel and dinner.

"I suppose this is the last day of study for me here," grimaced Dan, "so I mean to make the most of the pleasure."

"Nonsense," retorted Darrin heartily; "you'll finish out this year, and then have two more solid years of study here ahead of you."

"Cut it!" begged Dan dolefully. "Don't try to jolly me along like that."

"You're down in the dumps, just now, Danny boy," smiled Darrin wistfully. "Just bombard the Board with rapid-fire talk to-morrow, and you'll pull through all right."

Dan sighed, then went on with his half-hearted study.

Later in the afternoon Dave, feeling the need of fresh air, closed his books.

"Come for a walk, Danny boy?"

"Don't dare to," replied Dalzell morosely.

So, though Darrin went out, he resolved not to remain long away from his moody chum.

Outside, on one of the cement walks, Dave turned toward Flirtation Walk. It seemed the best surrounding in which to think of Belle.

"Mr. Darrin!" called a voice.

Dave turned, to behold Mr. Treadwell coming at a fast stride with a scowl on his face.

"That was a dirty trick you played me last night, Mr. Darrin!" cried the first classman angrily.

"What?" gasped Dave, astonished, for this was not in line with the usual conversation of midshipmen.

"You know well enough what I mean," cried Treadwell angrily. "You spiked my only chance to dance with Miss Meade."

"You're wrong there," retorted Dave coldly and truthfully "I didn't."

"Then how did it happen?"

"I can't discuss that with you," Darrin rejoined. "I didn't make any effort, though, to spoil your chance of a dance with the young lady."

"Mr. Darrin, I don't choose to believe you, sir!"

Dave's face went crimson, then pale.

"Do you realize what you're saying, Mr. Treadwell?"

"Of course"—sneeringly.

"Are you trying to pick trouble with me!" demanded Dave, his eyes flashing with spirit.

"I repeat that I don't choose to believe your explanation, sir."

"Then you pass me the lie?"

"As you prefer to consider it," jeered the first classman.

"Oh, very good, then, Mr. Treadwell," retorted Dave, eyeing the first classman and sizing him up.

Treadwell was one of the biggest men, physically, in the brigade. He was also one of the noted fighters of his class. Beside Treadwell, Midshipman Darrin did not size up at all advantageously.

"If you do not retract what you just said," pursued Dave Darrin, growing cooler now that he realized the deliberate nature of the affront that had been put upon him, "I shall have no choice but to send my friends to you."

"Delighted to see them, at any time," replied the first classman, turning disdainfully upon his heel and strolling away.

"Now, why on earth does that fellow deliberately pick a fight with me?" wondered Darrin, as he strolled along by himself. "Treadwell can thump me. He can knock me clean down the Bay and into the Atlantic Ocean, but what credit is there in it for a first classman to thrash a youngster?"

It was too big a puzzle. After thinking it over for some time Dave turned and strolled back to Bancroft Hall.

"You didn't stay out long!" remarked Dan, looking up with a weary smile as his chum re-entered their room.

"No," admitted Dave. "There wasn't much fun in being out alone."

With a sigh, Dan turned back to his book, while Dave seated himself at his own study table, in a brown daze.

Things were happening fast—Dan's impending "bilge" from the Naval Academy, and his own coming fight with the first classman who would be sure to make it a "blood fight"!

XVI. HOW DAN FACED THE BOARD

"We trust, Mr. Dalzell, that you can make some statement or explanation that will show that we shall be justified in retaining you as a midshipman in the Naval Academy."

It was the superintendent of the United States Naval Academy who was speaking.

Dan's hour of great ordeal had come upon him. That young midshipman found himself in the Board Room, facing the entire Academic Board, trying to remember what Freeman had told him the night before.

The time was 10.30 a.m. on that fateful Monday.

Midshipman Dalzell appeared to be collected, but he was also very certainly white-faced.

Many a young man, doomed to be sent forth from a Naval career, back into the busy, unheeding world, had faced this Board in times past. So it was hardly to be expected that Dan would inspire any unusual interest in the members of the Board.

Dan swallowed at something hard in his throat, then opened his lips to speak.

"I am aware, sir, and gentlemen, that I am at present sufficiently deficient in my studies to warrant my being dropped," Dan began rather slowly. "Yet I would call attention to the fact that I was nearly as badly off, in the matter of markings, at this time last year. It is also a matter of record that I pulled myself together, later on, and contrived to get through the first year with a considerable margin of credits to spare. If I am permitted to finish the present term here I believe I can almost positively promise that I will round out this year with as good a showing as I did last year."

"You have thought the matter carefully out in making this statement, have you, Mr. Dalzell?" asked the superintendent.

"I have, sir."

"Have you any explanation to offer for falling below the standards so far this year, Mr. Dalzell?"

"I believe, sir, that I make a much slower start, with new studies, than most of my classmates," Dan continued, speaking more rapidly now, but in a most respectful manner. "Once I begin to catch the full drift of new studies I believe that I will overtake some of my classmates who showed a keener comprehension at the first. I think, sir, and gentlemen, that my record, as contrasted with the records of some of my classmates who achieved about the same standing I did for last year will bear my statement out."

[Illustration: "Have You Any Explanation to Offer, Mr. Dalzell?"]

The superintendent turned to a printed pamphlet in which were set forth the records of the midshipmen for the year before.

"Mr. Dalzell," asked another member of the Board, "do you feel that you are really suited for the life of the Navy? Is it your highest ambition to become an officer of the Navy?"

"It's my only ambition, sir, in the way of a career," Dan answered solemnly. "As to my being suited for the Navy, sir, I can't make a good answer to that. But I most earnestly hope that I shall have an opportunity, for the present, to try to keep myself in the service."

"And you feel convinced that you need only to be carried for the balance of the term to enable you to make good, and to justify any action that we may take looking to that end?" asked another member of the Board.

"That is my firm conviction, sir."

The superintendent, who had been silently examining and marking some statements in the pamphlet, now passed it to the nearest member of the Board, who, after a glance or two, passed the pamphlet on to another member.

Silence fell upon the room while Dan's printed record was being read.

"Have you anything else that you wish to say, Mr. Dalzell?" asked the superintendent at last.

"Only this, sir and gentlemen," replied Dan promptly. "If I am permitted to go on with the brigade, I promise, as far as any human being may promise, that I will not only be found to have passed at the end of this term, but that I will also have a higher marking after the annual examinations than after the semi-annuals."

These last few words Dan spoke with his whole soul thrown into the words. How he longed to remain in the Navy, now that he stood at the threshold of the life, uncertain whether he was about to be kicked across it into the outer world!

After glancing around the table, the superintendent turned once more to the young man.

"That will be all, at present, Mr. Dalzell."

Saluting briskly, crisply, Dan wheeled about, marching from the room.

He was in time to make a section recitation before dinner.

"How did you come out, Danny boy?" anxiously inquired Dave Darrin as the two, in their room, hastily prepared to answer the coming call for dinner formation.

"I wish I knew," replied Dalzell wistfully. "I said all that I could say without being everlastingly fresh."

After the brigade had been formed for dinner, and the brigade adjutant had reported the fact, the command was given:

"Publish the orders!"

This the brigade adjutant did rapidly, and in perfunctory tones.

Dalzell jumped, however, when he heard his own name pronounced. He strained his ears as the brigade adjutant read:

"In the matter of Daniel Dalzell, summoned before the Academic Board to determine his fitness and aptitude for continuing in the brigade, the Board has granted Midshipman Dalzell's urgent request that he be continued as a midshipman for the present."

There was a great lump, instantly, in Dan's throat. It was a reprieve, a chance for official life—but that was all.

"I'll make good—I'll make good!" he told himself, with a violent gulp.

The orders were ringing out sharply now. The midshipmen were being marched in to dinner.

Hardly a word did Dalzell speak as he ate. As for Dave Darrin, he was too happy over his chum's respite to want to talk.

Yet, when they strolled together in the open air during the brief recreation period following the meal, Dalzell suddenly asked:

"Dave when do you fight with Treadwell?"

"To-night, I hope," replied Darrin.

"Oh, then I must get busy!"

"Why?"

"Why, I'm to represent you, Darry. Who are Treadwell's—"

"Danny boy, don't make a fuss about it," replied Dave quietly, "but just for this once you are not to be my second."

"Why—"

"Danny boy, you have just gotten by the Board by a hair's breadth. What kind of an act of gratitude would it be for you to make your first act a breach of discipline? For a fight, though often necessary here, is in defiance of the regulations."

"But Dave, I've never been out of your fights!"

"You will be this time, Danny. Don't worry about it, either. Farley and Page are going to stand by me. In fact, I think that even now they are talking with Treadwell's friends."

"You're wrong," murmured Dalzell, looking very solemn. "Here come Farley and Page right now."

In another moment the seconds had reached Darrin and his chum.

"To-night?" asked Dave Quietly.

"Yes," nodded Page.

"Time?"

"Just after recall."

"Good," murmured Darrin. "You two come for me, and I'll be ready. And I thank both of you fellows for taking up the matter for me."

"We'll be mighty glad to be there, Darry," grinned Farley, "for we look to see you finish off that first classman."

"Maybe," smiled Dave quietly. "I'll do all I can, anyway."

"And to think," almost moaned Dan Dalzell, "that you're to be in a scrap, David, little giant, and I'm not to be there to see!"

"There'll be other fights, I'm afraid," sighed Darry. "I seem destined to displease quite a few of the fellows here at Annapolis."

Dan tried to study, that night, after Darrin had left the room in the company of his seconds. Certainly Dan, in the light of his promise made to the Board that morning, had need to study. Yet he found it woefully hard to settle his mind on mathematics while Dave was fighting the fight of his Naval Academy career.

"Oh, well," muttered Dan, picking up a pencil for the third time, "Dave and I each have our own styles of fights, just now. Here goes for a knockout blow at math!"

XVII. LOSING THE TIME-KEEPER'S COUNT

Conners and Brayton were Treadwell's seconds.

Since it is not considered fair to have the referee or time-keeper from either class represented in a fight, Edgerton and Wheeler, of the second class, were referee and time-keeper respectively.

All of the young men were early at the usual fighting ground. The fall air was cool and crisp, but it was not yet considered cold enough to justify the extra risk of holding a fight in-doors.

Dave was quickly stripped and made ready by his seconds. His well-developed chest bespoke fine powers in the way of "wind" and endurance. His smooth, hard, trim muscles stood out distinctly.

Treadwell took more time in getting himself ready for the ring. When at last, however, the first classman stood bared to the waist, he looked like a giant beside Dave Darrin.

"It looks like a shame to take the money, Tread," murmured referee Edgerton.

"I don't want to pound the youngster hard," explained Midshipman Treadwell, in an undertone. "Yet I've got to teach him both to respect my class and myself."

On this point, as an official of the fight, Referee Edgerton did not feel called upon to express an opinion.

Farley, at his first glimpse of the waiting first classman, felt a chill of coming disaster.

"Page," he growled, "that huge top-classman makes our Darry look like a creeping infant."

"Darry will take care of himself," retorted Midshipman Page in an undertone.

"Do you believe it?"

"I surely do."

"But Treadwell looks a whole lot more vast now that he's stripped."

"Darry is much smaller, I know; But Darrin is one of those rare fellows who don't know what it means to be whipped. He can't be put out of business by anything smaller than a twelve-inch gun!"

"I hope you're right," sighed Farley.

Dave, in the meantime, to keep himself from being chilled by the frosty air, was running lightly about, swinging his arms.

"Are you both ready, gentlemen?" inquired Midshipman Edgerton, while Time-keeper Wheeler drew out his stop watch.

Both stepped to toe the scratch.

"Yes." nodded Dave.

"Ready!" rumbled Treadwell.

The referee briefly made the usual announcement about it being a fight to the finish, with two-minute rounds and two minutes between rounds.

"Time!"

As Treadwell leaped forward, both fists in battery, Dave took a swift, nimble sidestep. He felt that he had to study this big fellow carefully before doing more than keep on the defensive.

Now footwork was one of the fighting tricks for which Darry was famous. Yet he had too much courage to rely wholly upon it.

Five times Treadwell swung at his smaller opponent, but each time Dave was somewhere else.

Despite his greater size, Treadwell was himself nimble and an adept at footwork.

Finding it hard, however, to get about as quickly as his smaller opponent, the first classman soon went in for close, in-body fighting, following Dave, half-cornering him, and forcing him to stand and take it.

Two or three body blows Dave succeeded in parrying so that they glanced, doing him little harm.

Then there came an almost crunching sound. Treadwell's right fist had landed, almost dazing the youngster with its weight against his nose.

There was a swift, free rush of the red. Darrin had yielded up "first blood" in the fight.

"I've got to dodge more, and not let myself be cornered," Darrin told himself, keeping his fists busy in warding off blows.

Then, of a sudden, Dave turned on the aggressive. He struck fast and furiously, but Treadwell, with a grin, beat down his attack, then soon landed a swinging hook on Dave's neck that sent him spinning briefly.

"He expects to finish this fight for his own amusement," flashed angrily through Darrin's mind. "I'll get in something that hurts before I toss the sponge."

"Time!"

Two minutes were up. To Dave it seemed more like half an hour.

"Steady, now!" murmured Page, in his principal's ear, as the two seconds leaped at the task of rubbing down their men. "Unless you let yourself get rattled, Darry, that big fellow isn't going to get you. Whenever you're on the defensive, and being crowded hard, change like lightning and drive in for the top classer's solar plexus."

"I tried that three times in this last round," murmured Dave. "But the fellow is too big and powerful for me. He simply pounds me down when I go for him."

"Work for more strategy," whispered Page, as he held a sponge to Dave's battered nose, while Farley rubbed the muscles of his right arm.

"I haven't given up the fight," muttered Dave, "But, of course, I've known from the start that Treadwell is a pretty big fighter for one of my weight."

"Oh, you'll get him yet," spoke Page confidently.

The fighters were being called for the second round.

In this Dave received considerable punishment, though he landed three or four times on Treadwell's body.

Then twice in succession the champion of the third class was knocked down.

Neither, however, was a knockout blow.

Dave took plenty of time, within his rights, about leaping to his feet, and in each instance got away from Treadwell's leaping assault.

Just after the second knock-down, time was called for the end of the round.

"You'll get him yet, Darry," was Page's prediction, but he did not speak as hopefully as before.

Farley, too, was full of loyalty for his friend and fellow-classman, but he did not allow this to blind his judgment. Farley's opinion was that Dave was done for, unless he could land some lucky fluke in a knockout blow.

"Go right in and land that youngster," Treadwell's own seconds were advising him. "Don't let him have the satisfaction of standing up to you for three whole rounds or more."

"Do you think that little teaser is as easy as he looks?" growled Treadwell.

"Oh, Darrin is all right at his own weight," admitted Midshipman Conners. "But he has no business with you, Tread. You're quick enough, too, when you exert yourself. So jump right in and finish it before this round is over."

"I'll try it, then," nodded Treadwell.

Though he had not the slightest notion that he was to be defeated, this big top classman was learning a new respect for Darrin's prowess. He could thrash Dave, of course, but Treadwell did not expect to do it easily.

For the first twenty seconds of the third round the two men sparred cautiously. Dave had no relish for standing the full force of those sledge-hammer blows, while Treadwell knew that he must look out for the unexpected from his still nimble opponent.

"Lie down when you've had enough," jeered Treadwell, as he landed a jolt on one of the youngster's shoulders and sent him reeling slightly.

Dave, however, used his feet well enough to get away from the follow-up.

"Are you getting tired?" Darrin shot back at his opponent.

"Silence, both of you," commanded Referee Edgerton. "Do all your talking with your fists!"

Just then Treadwell saw an opening, and followed the referee's advice by aiming a blow at Dave's left jaw. It landed just back of the ear, instead, yet with such force that Dave sank dizzily to the ground, while Treadwell drew back from the intended follow-up.

Farley and Page looked on anxiously from their corner. Midshipman Wheeler, scanning his watch, was counting off the seconds.

"—five, six, seven, eight, nine—ten!"

At the sound of eight Dave Darrin had made a strenuous effort to rise.

Yet he had swayed, fallen back slightly, then forced himself with a rush to his feet.

But Midshipman Treadwell drew back, both fists hanging at his sides, for the "ten" had been spoken, and Dave Darrin had lost the count.

While Dave stood there, looking half-dizzily at his opponent, Referee Edgerton's voice broke in crisply:

"Mr. Darrin required more than the full count to come back. The fight is therefore awarded to Mr. Treadwell."

XVIII. FIGHTING THE FAMOUS DOUBLE BATTLE

"It wasn't fair," hissed Midshipman Page hotly.

"It was by a mighty small margin, anyway," quivered Farley.

"I don't feel whipped yet," remarked Dave quietly.

"Oh, well, Darry," urged Farley, "don't feel humiliated over being thrashed by such a human mountain of a top classer."

Dave, whose chest had been heaving, and whose lungs had been taking in great gulps of air, suddenly pushed his second gently away.

"Mr. Treadwell, sir, will you come over here a moment?" he called. "And also the officials of the fight?"

Treadwell, with a self-satisfied leer on his face, stepped away from his seconds coming jauntily over.

Midshipman Edgerton and Wheeler followed in some wonder.

"Mr. Treadwell," began Dave, looking full into the eyes of his late antagonist, "I have no fault, sir, to find with your style of fighting. You behaved fairly at every point."

"Thank you, sir," interjected the big midshipman grimly.

"The verdict was also fair enough," Dave continued, "for I am aware that I took a hair's-breadth more than the count. Still, I do not feel, Mr. Treadwell, that the result was decisive. Therefore I have to ask of you the favor of another early meeting, for a more definite try-out."

Treadwell gasped. So did his recent seconds and the late officials of the fight. Even Farley's jaw dropped just a trifle, but Page's face flushed with new-found pleasure.

"Another fight, sir?" demanded Midshipman Treadwell.

"Yes, sir," replied Darrin quietly.

"Oh, very well," agreed Treadwell, nonchalantly. "At any time that you wish, Mr. Darrin—any time."

"How would fifteen minutes from now do?" demanded Dave, smiling coolly.

Treadwell fairly gasped, though only from sheer astonishment.

"Why, if your seconds and the officials think that fair to you, Mr. Darrin," replied Treadwell in another moment, "I am sure that I have no objection to remaining around here a little longer."

"Do you insist on calling for the second fight within fifteen minutes, Mr. Darrin?" asked Second Classman Edgerton.

"For my own part, I do," replied Dave quietly; "I leave the decision to Mr. Treadwell's courtesy."

"Well, of all the freaks!" muttered Mr. Wheeler, as the two fight officials walked aside to discuss the matter.

"Darry," demanded the agitated Farley, "are you plumb, clean crazy?"

"Do you know what we're fighting about, Farley, old man?" asked Dave very quietly.

"No; of course not."

"It's a personal matter."

"O-oh!"

"It's a matter in which I can't accept an imitation whipping."

"But surely you don't expect to whip Treadwell in your present condition?"

"I very likely shall get a thorough trouncing," smiled Darrin.

"It's madness," broke in Page worriedly.

"I told you it was a personal matter," laughed Dave softly. "I shan't mind getting whacked if it is done up in good shape. It's only this near-whipping to which I object."

"Well—great Scott!" gasped Page.

"Hush!" warned Farley. "Here comes Edgerton."

Midshipman Edgerton, looking very much puzzled, stepped over to Dave Darrin's corner.

"Darrin," began the referee in a friendly tone, "Tread doesn't like the idea of fighting you again to-night."

"Didn't he say he would?" demanded Darrin.

"Yes; but of course, but—"

"I hold him to his word, Mr. Edgerton."

"But of all the crazy—"

"I have my own reasons, sir," Darrin interposed quietly. "I think it very likely, too, that Mr. Treadwell will comprehend my reasons."

"But he doesn't like the idea of fighting an already half-whipped man."

"Will it get on his nerves and unsteady him?" asked Dave ironically.

"Are you bound to fight to-night, Mr. Darrin?"

"I am, sir."

"Then I suppose it goes—it has to," assented Midshipman Edgerton moodily. "But of all the irrational—"

"Just what I said, sir," nodded Page.

"I shall be ready, sir, when the fifteen minutes are up," continued Dave. "But I am certain that I shall need all the time until then for getting myself into first-class condition."

"Darry is a fool—and a wonder!" ejaculated Edgerton under his breath, as he walked away.

"I'm sorry, Darry," murmured Farley mournfully, "but—well, beat your way to it!"

"I intend to," retorted Dave doggedly.

Rubbed down by his seconds, Dave drew on his blouse, without a shirt.

Quitting the others, Dave walked briskly back and forth. At last he broke into a jog-trot.

At last he halted, inflating and emptying his lungs with vigorous breathing.

"I feel just about as good as ever," he declared, nodding cheerily to his seconds.

"Get off that blouse, then," ordered Midshipman Farley, after a glance at his watch. "We've two minutes left out of the fifteen."

"I'll go forward at the scratch, then," nodded Dave.

Treadwell, in the meantime, had pulled on his outer clothing and had stood moodily by, watching Dave's more workmanlike preparations with a disdainful smile.

"I'll get the fellow going quickly this time," Mr. Treadwell told Conners. "As soon as I get him going I'll dive in with a punch that will wind up the matter in short order. I've planned to do considerable reviewing of navigation to-night."

"I hope you have your wish," murmured Conners.

"What do you mean?"

"Just what I said."

"Do you think I'm going to have any trouble whatever about finishing up that touge youngster!" demanded Tread well sarcastically.

"No; I don't imagine you will. But at the same time, Tread, I tell you I don't care about having enemies among fellows who come back as swiftly, strongly and as much like a bulldog as Darry does."

Seeing Dave pull off his blouse, Treadwell slowly removed his own clothing above the waist.

"Rub me down along the arms a bit," said Midshipman Treadwell, after he had exercised his arms a moment.

"I reckon we'd better," nodded Conners. "You must have got stiff from standing still after the late mix-up."

"No kinks but what will iron out at once," chuckled Treadwell. "I'll show you as soon as I get in action."

His two seconds rubbed him down loyally.

"Are you ready, gentlemen?" called Midshipman Edgerton.

Both men stepped quickly forward, but all of the onlookers thought they saw rather more spring in Dave Darrin than in his more bulky opponent.

The preliminaries were announced in a few words.

Of course, there was no handshaking.

"Time!" sounded the call.

Dave Darrin quickly proved to be so full of vigor that Treadwell lay back on the defensive after the first two or three passes. Dave followed him right up with vim.

Yet, for the first forty seconds of the round no real damage was done on either side. Then:

Bump!

"O-o-oh!"

That cry came simultaneously from Treadwell and from all the spectators.

Dave's right fist had landed crushingly on the top classman's left eye, almost instantly closing that organ.

Darrin leaped nimbly back, both from a chivalrous impulse to give Treadwell a chance to recover his steadiness and to save himself from any sudden rush and clinch by his big opponent.

But Treadwell, standing with his guard up, showed no inclination to follow the one who had just given him such punishment.

"Mix it up, gentlemen—mix it!" called Midshipman Edgerton impatiently.

At that command from the referee Dave Darrin sprang forward.

Treadwell seemed wholly on the defensive now, though he struck as heavily as ever. Toward the end of the round Treadwell, having gotten over the worst of the stinging from his eye, once more tried to rush matters.

Whenever the big fellow's undamaged eye caught sight of the cool, hostile smile on Darrin's face, Treadwell muttered savage words.

Some hard body blows were parried and others exchanged.

Both men were panting somewhat when the call of time closed the first round.

"Darry, you nervy little rascal, waltz in and put that other eye up in black clothes!" begged Page ecstatically, as he and Farley worked over their principal.

Dave was ready quite twenty seconds before the call of time for the second round.

Treadwell, however, took his full time in responding. At the last moment he took another dab with the wet sponge against his swollen left eye.

"Time!"

With a suppressed yell Treadwell rushed at his opponent. Dave had to sidestep to his own right, out of range of Treadwell, to save himself.

Then at it they went, all around the ring. Darrin had determined to keep himself out of the way of those sledge-hammer fists until he saw his own clear opening.

Four or five times Treadwell landed heavily on Darrin's ribs. The younger, smaller midshipman was getting seriously winded, but all the time he fought to save himself and to get that one opening.

It came.

Pound!

Darrin's hard-clenched left fist dropped in on Treadwell's right eye.

This time there was no exclamation from the bruised one.

Alert Dave was careful to give him no chance. Within a second after that eye-closer landed Darrin struck with his right, landing on the jaw bone under Treadwell's ear.

Down in a heap sank the top classman. He was unconscious before his body struck the ground.

Wheeler counted off the seconds.

"—ten!"

Still Mr. Treadwell lay motionless.

"Do your best for him, gentlemen," begged Referee Edgerton, turning to the first classman's seconds. "Mr. Darrin wins the second fight."

Dave, a satisfied look on his face, stepped back to his seconds.

This time he did not require as much attention. Within five minutes he was dressed.

By this time Mr. Treadwell, under the ministrations of his seconds and of the late officials, was just coming back to consciousness.

"Something happened, eh?" asked the top classman drowsily.

"Rather!" murmured Mr. Edgerton dryly.

"Did I—did I—lose the fight?"

"You did," Edgerton assented. "But don't let that disturb you. You went down before the best man in the Naval Academy."

Treadwell sighed gloomily. It was a hard blow to his pride—much harder than any that Dave had landed on his head.

"Mr. Treadwell," inquired Dave, stepping over, "we are comrades, even if we had a slight disagreement. Do you care to shake hands?"

"Help me to my feet," urged the first classman, who was sitting up.

His seconds complied. Then Midshipman Treadwell held out his hand.

"Here's my hand," he said rather thickly. "And I apologize, too, Mr. Darrin."

"Then say no more about it, please," begged Dave, as their hands met in a strong clasp.

None of the others present had the least idea of the provocation of this strange, spirited double fight. All, however, were glad to see the difficulty mended.

Then Dave and his seconds, leaving the field first, made their way back to Bancroft Hall. Farley and Page went straight to their own room.

"How did it come out?" demanded Dan Dalzell eagerly, as soon as his chum entered their quarters.

Dropping into a chair, Dave told the story of the double fight briefly. He told it modestly, too, but Dan could imagine what his chum omitted.

"David, little giant," exclaimed Dalzell, leaping about him, "that fight will become historic here! Oh, how I regret having missed it. Don't you ever dare to leave me out again!"

"It wasn't such a much," smiled Dave rather wearily, as he went over to his study desk.

"Perhaps it's indiscreet, even of a chum," rambled on Dalzell, "but what—"

"What was the fight all about?" laughed Dave softly. "Yes; I suppose you have a right to know that, Danny boy. But you must never repeat it to any one. Treadwell wanted to dance with Belle at the hop, but she had already noticed him, and declared she didn't want to dance with him. Of course that settled it. But Treadwell accused me of not having asked Belle."

"The nerve !" ejaculated Dan in disgust.

"And then he accused me of lying when I declared I had done my best for him," continued Dave.

"I feel that I'd like to fight the fellow myself!" declared Dan Dalzell hotly.

"Oh, no, you don't; for Treadwell apologized to-night, and we have shaken hands. We're all comrades, you know, Danny boy."

* * * * *

Unknown to any of the parties to the fight, there had been spectators of the spirited double battle.

Two men, a sailor and a marine, noting groups of midshipmen going toward the historic battle ground of midshipmen, had hidden themselves near-by in order "to see the fun."

These two enlisted men of the Navy had been spectators and auditors of all that had taken place.

Not until the last midshipman had left the ground did the sailor and marine emerge from their hiding place.

"Well, of all the game fights!" muttered the marine.

"Me? I'm hoping that some day I fight under that gallant middy," cried the sailor.

"Who is this Mr. Darrin?" asked the marine, as the pair strolled away.

"He's a youngster—third classman. But he's one of the chaps who, on the cruise, last summer, went over into a gale after another middy—Darrin and his chum did it."

"There must be fine stuff in Mr. Darrin," murmured the marine.

"Couldn't you see that much just now?" demanded the sailor, who took the remark as almost a personal affront, "My hat's off to Mr. Darrin. He's one of our future admirals. If I round out my days in the service it will be the height of my ambition to have him for my admiral. And a mighty sea-going officer he'll be, at that!"

In their enthusiasm over the spectacle they had seen, the sailor and the marine talked rather too much.

They were still talking over the battle as they strolled slowly past one of the great, darkened buildings.

In the shadow of this building, not far away, stood an officer whom neither of the enlisted men of the Navy saw; else they would have saluted him.

That officer, Lieutenant Willow, U.S. Navy, listened with a good deal of interest.

Mr. Willow was one of those officers who are known as duty-mad. He gathered that there had been a fight, so he deemed it his duty to report the fact at once to the discipline officer in charge over at Bancroft Hall.

Regretting the necessity, yet full of the idea of doing his duty, Lieutenant Willow wended his way promptly towards the office of the officer in charge.

XIX. THE OFFICER IN CHARGE IS SHOCKED

Through the main entrance of Bancroft Hall, into the stately corridor, Lieutenant Willow picked his way.

He looked solemn—unusually so, even for Lieutenant Willow, U.S.N. He had the air of a man who hates to do his duty, but who is convinced that the heavens would fall if he didn't.

To his left he turned, acknowledging smartly the crisp salute given him by the midshipman assistant officer of the day.

Into the outer office of the officer in charge stepped Mr. Willow, and thence on into the smaller room where Lieutenant-Commander Stearns sat reading.

"Oh, good evening, Willow," hailed Lieut. Stearns heartily.

"Good evening, Stearns," was the almost moody reply.

"Sit down and let's have a chat I'm glad to see you," urged Lieutenant-Commander Stearns.

Mr. Stearns, he of the round, jovial face, gazed at his junior with twinkling eyes.

"Willow," he muttered, "I'm half inclined to believe that you've come to me to make an official report."

"I guess I have," nodded Lieutenant Willow.

"And against some unfortunate midshipman, at that!"

"Against two, at least," sighed Mr. Willow, "and there were others involved in the affair."

"It must be something fearful," said Mr. Stearns, who knew the junior officer's inclination to be duty-mad. "But, see here, if you make an official report you'll force me to take action, even though it's something that I'd secretly slap a midshipman on the shoulder for doing. No—don't begin to talk yet, Willow. Try a cigar and then tell me, personally, what's worrying you. Then perhaps it won't be altogether needful to make an official report."

"I never was able to take you—er—somewhat jovial views of an officer's duty, Stearns," sighed Lieutenant Willow.

Nevertheless, he selected a cigar, bit off the end, lighted it and took a few whiffs, Lieutenant-Commander Stearns all the while regarding his comrade in arms with twinkling eyes.

"Now, fire ahead, Willow," urged the officer in charge, "but please don't make your communication an official one—not at first. Fire ahead, now, Willow."

"Well—er—just between ourselves," continued Lieutenant Willow slowly, "there has been a fight to-night between two midshipmen."

"No!"

Lieutenant-Commander Stearns struck his fist rather heavily against the desk.

"A fight—a real fight—with fists?" continued the officer in charge, in a tone of mock incredulity. "No, no, no, Willow, you don't mean it—you can't mean it!"

"Yes, I do," rejoined the junior officer rather stiffly.

"Oh, dear, what is the service coming to?" gasped Stearns ironically. "Why, Willow, we never heard of such things when we were midshipmen here. Now, did we?"

"I'm afraid we did—sometimes," admitted the junior officer. "But duty is duty, you know, my dear Stearns. And this was an unusual fight, too. The man who was whipped insisted on another fight right then and there, and—he won the second fight."

"Bully!" chuckled the officer in charge. "Whew, but I wish I had been there!"

"Stearns, you surely don't mean that?" gasped duty-mad Mr. Willow.

"You're quite right, Willow. No; I certainly don't want to be a spoilsport, and I'm glad I wasn't there—in my official capacity. But I'd like to have been divested of my rank for just an hour so that I could have taken in such a scene as that."

"I'm—I'm just a bit astonished at your saying it, Stearns," rejoined Lieutenant Willow. "But then, you're always joking."

"Perhaps I am joking," assented the officer in charge dryly, "but I never lose sight of the fact that our Navy has been built up, at huge expense, as a great fighting machine. Now, Willow, it takes fighting men to run a fighting machine. Of course, I'm terribly shocked to know that two midshipmen really had the grit to fight—but who were they! Mind you, I'm not asking you in an official way. This question is purely personal—just between ourselves. Who were the men? And, especially, who was the fellow who lost the decision, and then had the utter effrontery to demand a second chance at once, only to win the second fight?"

"Darrin was the man who lost the first fight and won the second," replied Lieutenant Willow.

"Mr. Darrin? One of our youngsters! Yes; I think I know him. And what man of his class did he whip, the second time he tried!"

"It wasn't a man of his own class. It was Mr. Treadwell, of the first class," rejoined Lieutenant Willow.

"What?" almost exploded the officer in charge. "Did you say that Mr. Darrin fought with Mr. Treadwell, that husky top classman, and, losing the decision on the count, insisted on fighting again the same evening? Oh, say, what a fellow misses by being cooped up in an office like this!"

"But—but the breach of regulations!" stammered the duty-mad lieutenant.

"My dear fellow, neither you nor I know anything about this fight—officially. The Navy, after all, is a fighting machine. Do you feel that the Navy can afford to lose a fighting man like that youngster?"

So Lieutenant Willow left Lieutenant-Commander Stearns' presence, not quite convinced he was performing his whole duty, but glad to bow to the decision of a ranking officer.

Two days later Dave and Dan were surprised at being halted by Lieutenant-Commander Stearns.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Darrin," came the pleasant greeting. "Good afternoon, Mr. Dalzell. Mrs. Stearns and I would be greatly pleased if you could take dinner with us. Couldn't you come next Sunday?"

The two midshipmen were astonished and delighted at this invitation. While it was not uncommon for officers to invite midshipmen to their homes, where there were so many midshipmen, it was as a rule only the young men who made themselves prominent socially who captured these coveted invitations. Darrin and Dalzell concealed their surprise, but expressed their pleasure in accepting the gracious invitation.

On entering Mrs. Stearns' drawing room the next Sunday Mr. Darrin and Mr. Dalzell were introduced to two pretty girls. Miss Flora Gentle was a cousin of their hostess. She had visited Annapolis before, and, being pretty and vivacious, at the same time kind and considerate, she had many friends among the midshipmen. Marian Stevens, who had accompanied her on this visit, was a direct contrast. Flora was blonde. Marian was the dark, flashing type. She was spoiled and imperious, yet she had a dashing, open way about her that made her a favorite among young people.

The two girls had heard of the double fight. Marian, therefore, was pleased when she found that Dave was to be her dinner partner.

"He's handsome," thought the girl, "and he's brave and dashing. He'll make his mark in the Navy. He doesn't know it yet, but he'll become mine, and mine alone."

Miss Stevens was a calculating young person, and had already decided that Navy life was the life for her and that she would marry into it. At seventeen, she looked upon the officers as old men, even the youngest of them, so was giving her time and her smiles to the midshipmen. That the Navy pay is small did not trouble Maid Marian, as she liked to be called, as on her twenty-first birthday she would come into a considerable fortune of her own.

She exerted herself all through the Stearns' dinner to captivate Dave Darrin. He, without diminution of love and loyalty to Belle Mead, was glad to be on friendly terms with this dashing and sprightly girl.

Coffee was served in the drawing room. Several officers dropped in. Marian, who wished no one to come between her and Dave for a while, turned to her host.

"Mr. Stearns, do the regulations make it improper for Flora and me to ask Mr. Darrin and Mr. Dalzell to take us for a stroll about the yard?" she asked with a pretty air of deference. The "yard" includes all the grounds belonging to the Naval Academy.

"They do not, Miss Marian," was the smiling response.

"With our hostess's approval we shall be charmed to grant any request the young ladies make," ventured Dave, as Marian smiled into his eyes.

But Marian, the wily and experienced, found herself baffled during this walk. Using all her cajoleries, she could bring him to a certain point beyond which he would not go. As a matter of fact, Dave Darrin, secure in his loyalty to Belle, did not perceive what Maid Marian was striving to lead up to, but saw in her only a lively and interesting girl.

"I'll get you yet, Midshipman Darrin," she vowed to herself after they had parted.

The gossip of a sweetheart in his home town which in time reached her ears only made the girl more determined to get her way. Looking in the mirror with satisfaction, she murmured:

"There'll be the added zest of making Midshipman Darrin forget the distant face of that home girl."

Not on that visit did Maid Marian succeed in leading Dave beyond the point of simple but sincere friendship. However, Miss Stevens could be charming to whomsoever she wished, and before she left Annapolis she had secured invitations to visit the wife of more than one of the officers.

XX. CONCLUSION

Christmas came and went, and soon after this the semi-annual examinations were on in earnest. Some of the midshipmen failed and sadly turned their faces homeward to make a place for themselves in some other lane of life. Dan Dalzell, however, made good his promise, and by a better margin than he had dared hope. Dave came through the examination somewhat better than his chum. Both felt assured now that they would round out the year with fair credit to themselves.

Marian Stevens came to Annapolis several times during the latter half of the year, and as it is expected that the future officer shall have social as well as Naval training, Dave Darrin met her often.

Exasperation that she could draw the young midshipman on only so far soon changed in Miss Stevens to anger and chagrin. Still Dave, giving prolonged thought to no girl except Belle Meade, saw in her only a lively companion. Sometimes he was her dinner partner. Always at a dance he danced with her more than once.

It was at one such dance that she looked up as they circled the room to say:

"I wonder if you know, Mr. Darrin, how much I enjoy dancing with you."

"Not as much as I enjoy dancing with you," he replied smilingly. Just then the music stopped suddenly and an officer called in a voice that carried over the great floor of the gymnasium and over all the chatter:

"Ladies and gentlemen, one moment's attention, please!"

In an instant all was still.

"Ladies and gentlemen," continued the officer, "official permission has been granted for taking a flashlight photograph of the scene to-night. Will everybody please remain where he is until after the exposure has been made?"

Dave and Marian had paused directly in front of the lens of the camera. Maid Marian looked up and made a light, jesting remark, gazing straight into the midshipman's eyes. Dave, smiling, bent forward to hear what she said.

Just then came the flash, and the photographer, his work finished for the time, gathered his paraphernalia together and left. The music recommenced and the dancing proceeded.

Three weeks later that photograph was reproduced as a double-page illustration in one of the prominent pictorial weeklies.

The day the magazine was on the newsstands Dan Dalzell bought a copy. Entering their quarters with it in his hand he opened it at the illustration and handed it to Dave.

"You and Miss Stevens show up better than any one else, Dave," remarked Dan.

"The photograph is a good piece of work," was Dave's only comment. He did not wish to express the annoyance he felt when he noted the appearance of intimacy between him and Marian, whose beauty showed, even in this reproduction. "I'd a bit rather Belle shouldn't see this paper," he admitted to himself.

"David, old boy, this picture would make a good exhibit in a breach-of-promise suit."

"That's an unkind remark to make about a fine girl like Miss Stevens," said Dave coldly.

Dan stared, then went off, pondering.

Belle Meade, in her Gridley home, received one day a large, square, thin package. She saw the mark of the Annapolis express office, and hastily snatched up scissors to cut the string. Out came a huge photograph.

"A picture of an Annapolis dance! How thoughtful of Dave to send it to me!" Then her eyes fell on two figures around which a ring had been drawn in ink. They were Dave Darrin and a pretty girl. On the margin of the card had been scrawled in bold letters:

"Your affair of the heart will bear close watching if you still cherish!"

This was signed, contemptibly and untruthfully, "A Friend."

"Uh!" murmured Belle in hurt pride and loyalty. Then she said resolutely to herself: "I will pay no attention to this. An anonymous communication is always meant to hurt and to give a false impression."

But there was the picture before her eyes of Dave and the pretty girl in seemingly great intimacy. So though she continued to write to the midshipman and tried hard to make her letters sound as usual, in spite of herself a coldness crept into them that Dave felt.

"She must have seen that pictorial weekly," thought the boy miserably. But as Belle said nothing of this, he could not write of it.

The season was well along. Dave and Dan sent Belle Meade and Laura Bentley invitations to one of the later spring dances.

"I wonder if she'll come or if she's tiring of me," thought Dave Darrin bitterly.

But Belle answered, accepting the invitation for Laura and herself.

When Saturday afternoon came both midshipmen hurried to the hotel in the town and sent up their cards. Mrs. Meade soon appeared, saying the girls would be down shortly.

"Are they both well?" asked Dave. His tone was as one giving a meaningless greeting, but in his heart he waited anxiously to hear what her mother should say of Belle.

"Well, yes. But Belle has been moping around the house a great deal, Dave, rather unlike her usual self," replied Mrs. Meade slowly.

If Mrs. Meade deplored this, Dave Darrin did not. It showed him at least that the girl's apparent coldness was not caused by her interest in some other young man.

But when the girls came in and Belle greeted him cordially, to be sure, but with something of restraint, his heart sank again.

"What's the matter, Belle? Has something gone wrong?" asked Dave when Dan was engaging the attention of Mrs. Meade and Laura.

"Nothing. Is all right with you?"

"Surely!"

"Dave, when we're alone I have something to show you. I fear you have an enemy here."

"An enemy! Oh, no. But I shall be glad to see what you have to show me."

It was not long before, at a word from Dave, Dan took Mrs. Meade and Laura out for a walk. It was then that Belle got the large photograph with the two figures ringed in ink and showed it to Dave.

"Why, what does this mean? Some one must have taken a good deal of trouble to secure this photograph. The picture was taken for a pictorial weekly. One can get a photograph from which the cut is made, but it is troublesome and possibly expensive!"

"You have an enemy, then; some one bent on hurting you?"

"I don't know who it could be. My, how angry Miss Stevens would be if she knew of this!"

"Miss Stevens? Is that the girl?"

"Yes. She's visited here often this year. She knows a number of the officers' wives. She's vivacious and always has a good time, but she's nothing to me, Belle. You know that, don't you?"

"I have never doubted you, Dave. Let us tear this up. I thought at first I'd not show it to you; then decided it was best not to begin concealing things from you. But let us not think of the thing again."

"Belle, you're a thoroughbred!" and here the matter dropped as far as it was between Dave Darrin and Belle Meade.

Miss Stevens was at the dance that evening. Though she tried hard to make that impossible, Dave did not dance with her, nor did he introduce her to Belle, though there again Marian tried to force this.

It would have been well for Marian if Dan Dalzell had been equally circumspect.

This time it was Belle who contrived and got the introduction to the other girl, but Marian was by no means reluctant, so it was that they managed to get a few moments alone together when they had sent their dance partners to get something for them.

"You are a friend of Dave's, aren't you?" asked Marian.

"Of Mr. Darrin's? Oh, yes, we've always known each other."

"Then you've been here to many of these dances?"

"Only two."

"Too bad you could not have been here oftener. This has been an unusually brilliant season. Really, many of the young people have lost their heads—or their hearts. I often wonder if these midshipmen have sweethearts at home." This daring—and impertinent—remark was made musingly but smilingly.

"These Annapolis affairs are never very serious, I imagine," Belle observed calmly.

"On the contrary, most of the Navy marriages date back to an Annapolis first meeting."

"Then you think it well to come often?"

"Unless one has other ways of keeping in touch," was the brazen reply.

"I have," said Belle sweetly. "I receive a good many souvenirs in the course of a year. One last winter was a photograph." With the words Belle gazed intently into Miss Stevens' eyes. Then she went on: "There was an anonymous message written on it. It was a lying message, of course, as anonymous messages always are, written in a coarse hand. Did you ever study handwriting, Miss Stevens?"

Marian gasped, realizing she was out-maneuvered.

"This writing had all the characteristics of a woman whose instincts are coarse, that of a treacherous though not dangerous person—"

"Here's Mr. Sanderson back. Will you excuse me, Miss Meade?" and Marian fairly fled.

Belle told Dave she had found out who had sent the photograph, but added:

"I wish you wouldn't ask me who it was, Dave. I can assure you that the person who did it will never trouble us again," and as Dave did not like to think evil of any one, he consented, and continued to think of Marian Stevens, when he thought of her at all, as a jolly girl.

The annual examinations were approaching. Dan Dalzell was buried deep in gloom. Dave Darrin kept cheerful outwardly, but doubts crept into his heart.

The examinations over, Dave felt reasonably safe. But Dan's gloom deepened, for he was sure he had failed in "skinny," as the boys termed chemistry and physics. So it was that when the grades were posted Dave scanned the D's in the list of third classmen who had passed. Dan, on the other hand, turned instantly to what he termed the "bust list."

"Why, why, I'm not there!" he muttered.

"Look at the passing list, Danny," laughed Dave.

Unbelieving, Dan turned his eyes on the list and to his utter astonishment found his name posted. True, in "skinny" he had a bare passing mark. But in other subjects he was somewhat above the minimum.

"So you see, old man, we'll both be here next year as second classmen," said Dave jubilantly.

This was as Dave Darrin said, and what happened during this time may be learned in a volume entitled, "Dave Darrin's Third Year At Annapolis; or, Leaders of the Second Class Midshipmen."

THE END

DAVE DARRIN'S THIRD YEAR AT ANNAPOLIS

or

Leaders of the Second Class Midshipmen

CONTENTS

I. Why the Midshipmen Balked

II. Proving Their Training

III. The Trouble-Making Fop

IV. In the View of the Navy Department

V. Navy Football In the Air

VI. The Hate of a Rival

VII. "Did Jetson Do It?"

VIII. Dan Tries Hard To Keep Cool

IX. A Narrow Squeak With the O. C.

X. The Gridiron Start

XI. The Band Couldn't Make Itself Heard

XII. Joyce Is Bitten By the Trouble Bug

XIII. Hepson Is "Some Wild"

XIV. Two Sides of a Story

XV. The Navy Goat Weeps

XVI. The Man With a Scowl On Tap

XVII. An Affair of Sulks

XVIII. The Class Meeting Sits As Jury

XIX. Dave Stands On Principle

XX. "Don't Be a Fool, Darry!"

XXI. Midshipman Jetson Has the Floor

XXII. The Birth of a Gentleman

XXIII. "Bagged", and No Mistake

XXIV. Conclusion

I. WHY THE MIDSHIPMEN BALKED

"So Tom Reade and Harry Hazelton have been here?" demanded Midshipman Dave Darrin.

That handsome young member of the brigade of midshipmen at the United States Naval Academy at Annapolis was now in mufti, or cits,—meaning, in other words, that he was out of his Naval uniform and attired in the conventional clothing of a young American when calling on his sweetheart.

It will make the situation even clearer to the reader to explain that Dave was back in the home town, on his September leave, after just having completed his second summer practice cruise with the three upper classes from Annapolis.

Dave was now a fine looking and "husky" second classman. He was just a shade more than half way through his course of instruction at Annapolis.

Being back in the home town, where would Midshipman Darrin be more naturally found than in the parlor at the home of his sweetheart, Miss Belle Meade?

The first greetings had been exchanged fifteen minutes before.

Since that time the young people, being sweethearts as they were, had naturally talked about themselves.

And Dave, who, in the Naval service, was fast learning to become a good listener, had been content to have Belle do most of the talking, while he sat back watching the motions of her pretty lips and catching glimpses of two rows of pearly teeth.

But now Belle had just mentioned two of Dave's former High School chums.

"So Tom and Harry were really here?" he repeated.

"Yes; they came up from Arizona on leave."

"I wonder why they couldn't have remained here longer?" mused Dave.

"They both told me that they were very young in their profession as civil engineers, and that they had to spend nearly all of their time 'on the job,' as Tom phrased it," replied Belle.

"How did they look?" asked Dave.

"A shade older, of course, than when they were in the High School."

"Are they much taller?" asked Darrin.

"Somewhat; but they have not shot up in height, the way you and Dan, and Dick Prescott and Greg Holmes have done," Belle continued.

"Brown as berries, I suppose, after working down in the alkali deserts?" asked Dave, who felt that he could not hear enough of those dear old chums.

"Meaning Tom and Harry?" smiled Belle. "Or Dick and Greg?"

"Tom and Harry, that time, of course," laughed Dave. "But I'm waiting to hear a whole lot about Dick and Greg as well."

"No; I wouldn't call Tom and Harry exactly as brown as berries," went on Belle, laughing, "for I am not acquainted with many kinds of brown berries."

"Coffee berries?" hinted Darrin.

"I would call Tom and Harry fully as bronzed as Indians," Belle ventured.

"Have you ever seen any Indians?" asked Midshipman Darrin, looking at his sweetheart rather quizzically.

"Oh, haven't I?" laughed Belle Meade, her eyes sparkling. "We had Indians here the early part of this summer. There was a medicine show here, with Indians and cowboys, and that sort of thing. One day the Indians and cowboys got intoxicated and they went through Main Street like a tornado. They were yelling and shooting, and had people all along the street running for cover. Even the chief of police, though he wasn't a coward, ran into safety.

"In the midst of it all Dick Prescott, Greg Holmes, Tom Reade and Harry Hazelton came out of an ice cream parlor. Tom and Harry got a glimpse of the very Wild West looking company of yellers and shooters. Tom and Harry have seen enough Indians and cowboys to know the real thing—and that these were only poor imitations. All of a sudden Tom and Harry and Dick and Greg charged into that howling, shooting crowd and knocked them right and left. Your four old-time chums simply disarmed the 'bad' ones and turned the weapons over to the chief of police."

Belle went on, describing the famous incident, while Dave leaned back, laughing heartily.

"How I wish I had been on hand! I'd like to have helped, too," he added.

"Those four youngsters didn't need any help," laughed Belle.

"Which was the most surprised crowd—the 'bad' Western outfit or the police department?" chuckled Dave.

Readers of our "West Point Series" will find the "Wild West" scene fully narrated in "Dick Prescott's Third Year At West Point."

"Isn't it outrageous," demanded Dave, "that the West Point and the Annapolis leave of absence should be so arranged that midshipmen and cadets who are old, old friends never get a chance to meet each other on furlough!"

"I don't suppose," replied Belle, "that it often happens that one little city often has the honor of furnishing, at the same time, two midshipmen for Annapolis and two cadets for West Point."

"Very likely not," nodded Dave. "But it seems too bad, just the same. What wouldn't I give to see Tom or Harry? Or Greg or Dick? And now that I'm here Dick Prescott and Greg Holmes are but just barely gone."

"Yes; they have been but four days gone," assented Belle. "It does seem too bad that you and your West Point chums couldn't have been one day together."

"I haven't seen a blessed one of the good old four since I left for Annapolis, more than two years ago," muttered Dave complainingly. "What wouldn't I give—just to see what they look like in these days?"

"Well, what would you give?" demanded Belle, rising and hesitating.

"They've given you their photos, then!" asked Dave Darrin guessing. "Please be quick—let me see the photos."

Belle glided from the room, to return with a large card.

"They were taken altogether," she explained, handing the card over to Darrin. "There they are—all in one group."

Dave seized the card, studying eagerly the print mounted thereon.

"Whew! What a change two years make in a High School boy, doesn't it?" demanded Darrin.

"Of course," answered Belle Meade. "Do you imagine that you and Dan Dalzell haven't changed any, either?"

Readers of our "High School Series" will well remember Dick Prescott, Greg Holmes, Tom Reade, Harry Hazelton, Dave Darrin and Dan Dalzell, a famous sextette of young High School athletes, who, in their High School days, were known as Dick & Co.

Readers of the four volumes of that series will recall that Dick Prescott received the congressman's nomination to West Point, and that Greg Holmes was appointed a cadet at the same big government Army school by one of the state's senators. Dave Darrin and Dan Dalzell, a little later, secured nominations to Annapolis from the same gentlemen; and Tom Reade and Harry Hazelton, who had thrown their lot with civil engineering, had gone West to engage with an engineering firm of railroad builders.

From that passing of the old High School days the experiences and adventures of Dick Prescott and Greg Holmes are told in the volumes of "The West Point Series."

Those of Tom Reade and Harry Hazelton are set forth fully in "The Young Engineers' Series."

As for Dave Darrin and Dan, their life, since leaving the High School, and casting their lot with the Navy, has been fully told in the two preceding volumes of the present series, "Dave Darrin's First Year At Annapolis" and "Dave Darrin's Second Year At Annapolis."

"Well, I'll meet Dick and Greg this coming Thanksgiving, at any rate," predicted Midshipman Darrin. "You know what happens the Saturday after Thanksgiving on Franklin Field, don't you, Belle?"

"You young men of Annapolis and West Point play football, don't you!" asked Belle.

"Do we?" demanded Dave, his eyes aglow with enthusiasm. "Don't we, though. And, mark me, Belle, the Navy is going to carry away the Army's scalp this year."

"Are you going to join the team?" asked Belle.

"I can't say, until I get back. But I've been training. I hope to be called to the team. So does Dan."

"I hope you and Dan both make the eleven," cried Belle, "so that you can get away to see the game."

"Why, we can see the game better," retorted Dave, "if we don't make the team."

"Why, are midshipmen who don't belong to the eleven allowed to see the game?" asked Belle in some surprise.

"Are we?" demanded Dave. "Belle, don't you know what the Army-Navy game on the Saturday after Thanksgiving Day is like? The entire brigade of midshipmen and the whole corps of cadets travel over to Philadelphia. There, on Franklin Field, before an average of thirty thousand yelling spectators, the great annual game of the two great national academies is fought out."

"You haven't gone to see the annual game at Philadelphia before this, have you?" asked Miss Meade.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because, Belle, both years, at Thanksgiving time, Danny boy and I have found ourselves so far behind in our studies that we just took the time to stay behind and bone, bone, bone over our books."

"And you think this year will be different?"

"Oh, yes; when a man is half way through Annapolis the studies become easier to him. You see, in two years of the awful grind a fellow, if he lasts that long, has learned how to study in the right way. I'm going to get two tickets, Belle, so that you and your mother can go to see the game. And of course good old Dick can do as much for Laura Bentley and her mother. You'll come, of course, to root your hardest for the Navy, just as Laura will go and root for the Army. By the way, have you heard whether Dick and Greg expect to play on the Army eleven?"

"When they were here this summer they said they hoped to play football with the Army. That's all I know, Dave, about the plans of Dick and Greg."

"I hope they do play," cried Midshipman Darrin cheerily. "Even with two such old gridiron war horses as Dick and Greg against us, I believe that the Navy team, this year, has some fellows who can take the Army scalp with neatness and despatch."

Dave rambled on, for some time now, with of the athletic doings at the Naval Academy. It was not that he was so much interested in the subject—at that particular moment—but it was certainly fine to have Belle Meade for an interested listener.

"Well, you're half way through your course," put in Belle at last. "You passed your last annual examinations in June."

"Yes."

"How did you stand in your exams?"

"I came through with honors," Dave declared unblushingly.

"Honors?" repeated Belle delightedly. "Oh, Dave, I didn't know you were one of the honor men of your class."

"Yes," laughed Midshipman Dave, though there was a decidedly serious look in his fine face. "Belle, I consider that any fellow who gets by the examiners has passed with honors. So we're all honor men that are now left in the class. Several of the poor fellows had to write home last June asking their parents for the price of a ticket homeward."

"But, now that you've got half way through, you're pretty sure to go the rest of the way safely," Belle insisted.

"That's almost too much of a brag to make, Belle. The truth is, no fellow is safe until he has been commissioned as an ensign, and that's at least two years after he has graduated from the Naval Academy. Why even after examination, you know, a fellow has to go to sea for two years, as a midshipman, and then take another and final examination at sea. A whole lot of fellows who managed to get through the Academy find themselves going to pieces on that examination at sea."

"And then—" went on Belle.

"Why, if a fellow can't pass his exams, he's dropped from the service."

"After he has already graduated from Academy? That isn't fair," cried Belle Meade.

"No, it isn't quite fair," assented Midshipman Dave, with a shrug of his shoulders. "Yet what is one going to do about it? It's all in the game—to take or leave."

"Who ever made the Naval Academy and the service so hard as that?" the girl wanted to know.

"Congress, I guess," laughed Dave, "but acting, very likely, on the advice of a lot of old admirals who are through themselves, and who expect the youngsters to know as much as the very admirals. Why, Belle, when I was a few years younger, and first began to dream about going to the Naval Academy I had a mental picture of a very jolly life, in which we sailed the seas and absorbed our knowledge. I had an idea that the midshipman's life was made up mainly of jolly larks ashore and afloat, with plenty of athletics to keep us from ever feeling dull. Of course, I knew we had to do some studying, but I didn't imagine the studies would be hard for a chap who had already gone through a good High School."

"Your High School studies did help, didn't they?" demanded Belle.

"They helped somewhat in the exams, to enter Annapolis, but they've never helped me with any of the studies that I've had to tackle as a midshipman."

"Oh, well, you'll get through," the girl predicted with cheery confidence.

"I shall, if it's really in me," Dave promised. "But I'm not going to do any bragging, Belle, until I'm safely through and have been out of the woods for a long time."

"And you won't do any bragging then, either. It isn't in your line. What's Dan Dalzell going to do while he's home on leave?"

"Sleep, he says."

"The lazy boy!"

"No, he's a tired boy, Belle. I think the past year has been even just a little harder on him than it has on me. However, of course Dan won't really sleep. He'll be out by this afternoon. Just now I imagine that he's talking like wildfire with his mother."

It was a wrong guess, however. Just then the telephone sounded in the next room, and Belle went to answer it.

"It's your shipmate, Dan," she called laughingly. "He wants to talk with you, Dave."

"I wonder how the fellow ever guessed that I was here," smiled Darrin, as he hastily joined Belle at the 'phone.

"Hello," hailed Dalzell at the other end of the wire. "Going to do anything in particular this afternoon, David, little giant?"

"Yes; I hope to make myself more or less agreeable to Miss Meade."

"A small crowd won't be any bar to that, eh?" Dan wanted to know.

"Not if the crowd and the occasion are agreeable to Miss Meade."

"Well, you know Foss and Canty?"

"Two of our old High School boys? Yes."

"Foss has a new gasoline launch; he says it's a beauty, and he wants us to invite Miss Meade and Miss Bentley, to join them and a couple of the former High School girls for a couple of hours' cruise on the river. What say you?"

"What does Belle say, you mean. Wait a moment, and I'll ask her."

Darrin explained the invitation.

"Why, if it will be pleasant for you, Dave, I shall be delighted to go," Belle answered.

"It's all right," Dave called back over the 'phone. "What's the hour for the start!"

"Two o'clock," Dan answered.

"All right, then; will you ask Laura Bentley, or shall we, from here?"

"I've already asked Laura," Dalzell replied. "She accepted on condition that Belie did. Now I'll ring up Laura and tell her that it's all arranged."

"It'll be a pleasant trip for you, won't it!" inquired Belle, half-anxiously. "Or do you get too much of boats in your working year?"

"I shall be glad to be anywhere that you are," Dave replied gallantly. "The form of entertainment doesn't matter to me as long as it appeals to you."

At two o'clock the young people met at the float of the Boat Club house on the river's bank.

On the way across town Dave had been noting the direction and force of the wind. He didn't altogether like it, but didn't say anything. At the float he found Tom Foss, Ab Canty, Ella Wright and Susie Danes awaiting the midshipmen and their fair companions.

"All ready and waiting for you amateur sailors," called Foss laughingly. "And here's the boat. Say, isn't she really a beauty?"

"Good lines," nodded Dave Darrin. "And she looks speedy. But you've changed your mind about going out this afternoon, haven't you, Foss?"

"Why?" demanded the young fellow, in very evident astonishment.

"Look at the water," responded Dave, pointing to the white-caps, which were running rather high for an inland stream.

"Pooh! You're not afraid of a little foam on top of the water, are you?" demanded Foss.

"The waves are running pretty high for the inches of freeboard that your boat has," remarked Darrin quietly. "And look at the sky to windward. There's a bit more blow coming out of those clouds yet."

"Say, what do they teach you at Annapolis?" grinned Foss. "To go sailing only in calm weather?"

"Since you ask," Dave replied as quietly as before, though a slight flush mounted to his face, "one of the things they teach us at the Naval Academy is consideration for women. Now, if just we four fellows were going out, I wouldn't say a word."

"Don't think we girls are afraid," broke in Belle with spirit.

"I'm well aware that you're not afraid," Darrin replied turning and looking at her. "But I'm afraid, Belle of what I might think of myself afterwards, if I were a party to taking you out in this boat when the river is running so much to whitecaps."

"Do you think the boat is one of the kind that will turn turtle and sink the crowd?" demanded Tom Foss, flushing in turn. "I tell you, Darrin, the craft is as tight and sound, and as manageable, as any boat of her length to be found anywhere on fresh water."

"She is a fine boat," Dave assented; "but I don't feel like being responsible for what may happen to the young lady who is more especially under my escort and care. There's too big a chance of danger this afternoon, Foss."

"Pooh, Mr. Sailor!" laughed Ella Wright. "I'll show you that some folks who don't know what Annapolis looks like are not frightened by toy waves."

Miss Ella thereupon stepped into the launch and seated herself. Miss Susie followed.

"Aren't you people going?" asked Ab Canty.

"I'm not going if Dave considers it so unwise that he'd be worried about our safety," Belle answered promptly.

"Going, Laura?" called Foss.

"No, though I thank you," Miss Bentley replied. "If Mr. Darrin objects on the score of safety I'm not going to torment him by disregarding his opinion."

"I'm of about the same opinion as Darrin, if anyone cares to know," broke in Dan Dalzell.

Tom Foss looked at the other half of his party quizzically, then called to Canty.

"Cast off, Ab. Ha, ha! I never thought to see United States sailors and embryo Naval officers so much afraid of a little tossing water."

Chug-chug! Ella and Susie were laughing a bit teasingly as the motor started and the little craft darted away from the float and took to the waves beyond.

Dave did not answer. Instead, he gripped Dan's nearer wrist, muttering:

"Don't you say it, Danny!"

"Say what?"

"Whatever hot words were coming to your lips. As long as we feel that we're right in not risking Belle and Laura, never mind what the others think and say."

"This breeze is so fine," suggested Laura, "what do you say if we seat ourselves here and watch the river for a while?"

Accordingly the four young people seated themselves. The launch was the only craft in sight that was away from her moorings. A sailboat and three canoes lay tied to the lee side of the float, that is the off-side from the weather. Even they rocked a good deal.

"What kind of weather is coming?" asked Belle.

"It's going to be pretty squally, in all probability," spoke up Midshipman Dan. "Do you see the big puffs of wind in the clouds yonder?"

"It must take a sailor to see that sort of thing," remarked Belle. "What I see in the cloud looks like big, fluffy masses of cotton, streaked with something darker."

"That's the wind," nodded Dave Darrin. "Now, girls, I don't want you to think me a muff. That wind may swerve, and not come this way, although in all probability the wind will get this way and the water will be rougher. If it does get rougher on the river, and if we had taken you two out, and the boat had capsized, then by some chance we might not have been able to get you to shore. What would your folks then say to us if we had had the miserable luck to survive you?"

"You did just right," Laura declared promptly. "To tell the truth, I didn't want to disappoint either of you boys this afternoon, but I didn't believe the wind was quiet enough for boating on the river. But mother reminded me that I was going with two young men who had been trained as sailors, and that I ought to be as safe as I would in the home parlor."

"Well, aren't you?" smiled Belle Meade.

"Did you really want to go out on the river, Belle?" Dave asked.

"Not when you don't believe it to be safe."

"I suppose Foss will be joking around town about our being afraid of the water," muttered; Dan.

"What do you care!" asked Dave quietly. "You're responsible to the United States Government—not to a few private citizens on the streets of Gridley."

"You'll take us out on the water before your leave is over, won't you?" urged Belle.

"A dozen of times, if you care to go," Dave; replied quickly.

"In a sailboat?" quizzed Belle. "It must; be great fun to sail, and I've never been in a sailboat."

"I'd rather take you out in a good, solid rowboat," Dave answered slowly.

"Why, haven't you had much sailboat practice at Annapolis yet?"

"We've had some," Darrin nodded. "But I'm afraid I don't believe much in small sailboats for girls' parties."

"Oh, very well."

"Now, Belle, you will begin to believe that I'm a muff at heart," Darrin remonstrated.

"I won't anyway, Dave," Laura broke in. "I can see that you're merely determined that we shall take no risks when we go out with you. I shall feel very safe in whatever you propose for water sports."

"It's a good deal better to be safe, than sorry, when you have girls under your care," Dan Dalzell added.

The motor boat, a fast though a low-hulled craft, had been long out of sight up the river. Presently there came a new turn to the wind. Dan wet a forefinger and held it up to the breeze.

"I hope Foss has sense enough to run in somewhere and tie up until the coming squall blows over," Dalzell remarked.

"Are we going to have a storm?" Belle asked quickly.

"Not rain, if that's what you mean," Darrin replied. "But I believe the river is going to be pretty rough before long."

Ere two minutes more had passed Dave suddenly rose and straightened himself.

"Look downstream, girls," he cried. "Do you see the big rollers coming?"

In truth the surface of the river was now beginning to behave in an unusual way. Where, heretofore, the water had been choppy and whitecapped, the water now broke in longer, foam-crested waves. Owing to the course of the wind the waves were rolling upstream. Within five minutes from the time when Dave first called attention to the rougher water the waves had considerably increased in size.

"Oh, I'm glad I'm not out on the water," shivered Laura.

"So am I," Belle admitted candidly.

"Do you believe Tom Foss can bring his boat down against such waves!" Laura inquired.

"Oh, no doubt, he has had sense enough to run in somewhere and tie up," predicted Midshipman Dan charitably.

"I hope so," murmured Belle. "But Tom is an awfully stubborn fellow."

Toot! too-oo-oot! sounded a whistle up the river.

"By ginger, there comes Foss's boat now!" muttered Dan, standing up and staring. "Why doesn't the idiot make land?"

"He's got his craft away on the other side of the river, looking for quieter water," muttered Dave uneasily.

"Well, isn't that right?" asked Belle.

"Right, yes, unless he makes the mistake of trying to cross the stream," nodded Darrin. "Then he'll run his craft into the trough of the sea, and—"

"Well, what?" demanded Belle as Dave paused.

"Then, when he's in the trough, a big wave may roll his small boat over," Dan finished for his comrade.

"Do you really think there's danger of that?" demanded Laura, looking anxious.

"I don't know," murmured Dave. "But I wish I had some way of signaling Foss, some way so that he could understand the signals."

"What good would it do?" demanded Midshipman Dalzell, grimly. "Tom would only laugh and say it was more old maidishness on the part of Navy men."

"There—confound the idiot!" suddenly blazed Dave Darrin. "He is crossing. Look at that boat wallow in the trough. Jupiter! There she goes over—nearly!"

All four young people on the float held their breath for an instant. The motor launch, after almost having turned turtle, righted itself.

"I wish I were at the wheel of the boat for about three minutes," muttered Darrin hoarsely.

At that moment Laura and Belle both screamed, while Dan Dalzell shouted:

"There she goes—for sure, this time!"

A bigger wave than usual had half filled the launch and caused it to careen. Before the little craft could right itself a second and a third wave, rolling along, had completed the work. The launch had sunk!

II. PROVING THEIR TRAINING

In the same instant, without a word to each other, Dave Darrin and Dalzell had done the same thing. That is, they started to run and at the same time doffed coats and vests, leaving these garments to flutter behind them.

As they reached the sailboat both midshipmen cast off their shoes. Dave leaped into the boat while Dalzell threw off the bowline, then boarded.

Like a flash both youngsters went at the lashings of the mainsail.

"There isn't a reef in," Dan discovered. "Going to take time for a close reef, Dave?"

"There isn't time," Darrin muttered, with drops of cold perspiration on his forehead as he toiled. "We'll have to go out under a full sail, Dan."

"Great Scott!" muttered Dalzell.

"We may be too late to save any one as it is. There! Jump to the halyard. I've got the sheet."

Dan Dalzell began to hoist with a will. In an incredibly short time he had the sail hoisted all the way up, while Darrin, stern and whitefaced, crouched and braced himself by the tiller, gripping the sheet with his left hand.

In a twinkling Darrin had the wind in his canvas. They had nearly a fair wind as they bounded away from the float.

During these few instants of preparation neither Belle nor Laura had spoken. Both girls realized the gravity of the situation, and they knew that a word from them might distract the rescuers from the work in hand.

Knowing that he had the high, fast wind with him, Dave steered straight for the last spot where he had seen the motor launch. Though the boat was no longer visible, and the distance too great for seeing the heads of the swimmers, if there were any, Darrin had taken his bearings by trees on the further shore upstream.

At first, to keep the sailboat from capsizing, the young skipper at the helm let the sheet well out. Then, when Dan hurriedly rejoined him, Darrin passed the sheet over to his comrade as to one who would know exactly what to do with it. Dan perched himself on the weather gunwale, his weight there serving as ballast to keep the craft from capsizing. Yet, even so, everything had to be done with the utmost skill, for, with the mainsail up, the least fluke in handling the boat would send her over.

"We've got to go fast and take all the chances," muttered Dave.

"Sure," nodded Midshipman Dan understandingly. "It would be no great scare to us if we did heel over into the drink. It might mean a different story, though, for those who are already sopping up the wet."

"Aren't they splendid fellows?" cried Laura.

"Yes," answered Belle, her eyes snapping and her face glowing. "Though I won't claim that they're any finer than your own West Point boys."

That brought an added flush to the color in Laura Bentley's face, and her eyes sparkled her gratitude, for Dick Prescott, now at West Point with his chum, Greg Holmes, had been her High School sweetheart, and doubtless was to become her Army sweetheart after he had made sure of his career.

"Dave and Dan are experts," glowed Miss Bentley. "They'll know just what to do."

"They're better than mere experts," returned Belle Meade. "They're strong and manly to the core, and with them there's no such word as fear when there's a duty to be done."

Both Dave and Dan were peering fixedly ahead all the time that they drove the sailboat toward the scene of the late disaster.

"I think I see a head," cried Darrin.

"Boy or girl!" demanded Midshipman Dalzell.

"Can't tell at this distance. And now the next wave has blotted out what I thought I saw."

"We've got to be patient," uttered Dan.

The position of the midshipmen was far from being free of danger. With all their coolness and their undoubted skill in boat handling, there was grave danger, with the mainsail set, that, at any instant, wind and wave would capsize the boat.

Indeed, Dave was running the lee gunwale under water half the time, trusting to the human ballast supplied by his comrade to keep them afloat.

"See anything now?" demanded Dave.

"No," uttered Dan, "though I'm working my eyes three shifts to try to make out something. I'll have to go to an oculist as soon as I get through with this. This eyestrain is awful."

Midshipman Dan Dalzell was really unconscious of the fact that he was joking. It was second nature with him; he would have jested—unconsciously—with death in its most awful form.

"There, I see a head—two of them!" cried Midshipman Dave suddenly, as he half rose and pointed.

"Hurrah!"—from Dan.

Dan let the boat's head fall off a point in order that he might see better around the mast on the weather side, just where he must head his craft in the last dash in.

"It's Foss and Ella Wright," called Dan, as the flying sailboat got in closer over the foam-crested waves. "No, it isn't; Foss has Susie."

"Can you make out Canty and Ella?" demanded Darrin hoarsely.

"Not a sign, Dave. Maybe he's gone under trying to save Ella."

"Canty was one of our Gridley High School boys, so I'd expect him to have both the nerve and the grace to go down with a girl, if he couldn't save her as well as himself," muttered Darrin.

"There's Canty, just come up!"

"Can you make out Ella's head?"

"No."

"Look hard."

"I don't see her, and—there!"

"What's up?"

"Nothing," returned Dalzell soberly. "Canty's down—just gone down again."

"I hope he's gone down trying to find and rescue Ella," murmured Dave.

They were now so close that the young midshipmen would have been able to hear the shouts of the imperiled ones had it not been that the wind blew the sounds of voices away from the would-be rescuers.

"Better ease off the sheet a bit, I guess, Davy," called Dan, as he suited the action to the word. "We don't went to run 'em down."

"No."

As he spoke, Dave Darrin brought the boat slightly around. They were now close enough to see that Tom Foss was supporting dead weight in the person of Susie, who was unconscious.

"Waiting the word from you on the sheet, Davy," nodded Dan, as the boat drew close to the only pair of survivors now visible.

"Let go the sheet!" called Dave an instant later, and Dan let it run off clear, handing the end of the rope to Darrin.

"Can you head Susie this way, Foss?" Dalzell called.

"I'd rather have help," came the faint answer. Tom Foss was evidently well spent by his exertions in keeping up the girl so long.

Splash! Dan Dalzell was in the water, without waiting to hear more. The athletic young midshipman swam with a steadiness and speed that was glorious to see. Many an excellent swimmer, in smooth water, would dread buffeting with such waves as were now rolling.

Dave Darrin, meanwhile, held on to the tiller and the paid-out sheet, ready to manoeuvre the now pitching, rolling boat at an instant's notice. It took all his seamanship to keep the craft afloat, though the sailboat was far better modeled for such water than the motor launch had been.

"Give her over to me, and save yourself," commanded Dalzell cheerily, as he reached Tom Foss. "Think you can make it, old fellow?"

"If I can't, I ought to drown," retorted Tom Foss, as he struck out, none too strongly. "This is all my fault. You fellows gave me better advice than I had sense to follow."

Dan, with a skill that he had acquired directly from the excellent instruction given him by the swimming master at the Naval Academy, was now piloting the unconscious form of Susie Danes toward the sailboat.

Even encumbered as he was, Dan made the boat before Tom Foss could accomplish that feat alone. Truth to tell, Foss was very nearly "all in." Had rescue been delayed a few moments longer, Foss and his fair companion must have sunk.

"Get hold of her, Davy," called Dan, as he ranged up on the weather side of the tossing boat.

Darrin promptly leaned over and lifted the unconscious girl into the boat. By the time he had done that Tom Foss reached up both hands, seizing the boat's stern.

"Going to help me in?" he called.

"I don't know," Dave answered dubiously.

"If we can find Ella Wright there may not be room. With such a sea running, this boat won't hold many."

"No matter about me, then," muttered Tom. "If Ella isn't found right away I don't believe I care about going back to Gridley."

Dave's response was swiftly to knot a noose and let it down over Tom's shoulders. The other end of the line he made fast astern. Dalzell, in the meantime, had swum back again. Susie Danes lay as still as death in the bottom of the boat.

As Dalzell got back where he had first reached Foss and Susie, he espied the head of Ab Canty some distance away.

"Ab!" called Dan.

"Here!"

"What has become of Ella?"

"Oh, I wish I knew!"

"Was she afloat at all!" demanded Dan, swimming nearer.

"Yes; I kept her up for a couple of minutes, maybe. Then she got more scared, wound her arms tight around me, and we both sank. We had a struggle under water. I freed myself, but when I came to the top I found that my hand was clutching nothing but her empty jersey. There it is now," chattered Ab, his teeth, knocking against each other, as he pointed to the garment in question on the top of a distant wave. Then Ab sank.

For just an instant Dalzell thought Canty had gone below on purpose. Dan swam closer, to be of assistance. Then he saw the bubbles of air coming up rapidly.

"Cantys given out—he's going to drown!" gasped Midshipman Dan, with horror.

Like a flash Dan dived below, found and clutched at Canty. The young man returned the grip with interest, but Midshipman Dalzell struggled to the surface with him. Ab Canty was exhausted, out of his head and altogether past reasoning. Dan hated to do it, but he had to strike the young man in the forehead. Canty gave a gasp and ceased to resist.

Dave Darrin, watching, had run the boat up close alongside as soon as the struggling pair appeared above the waves.

"You'll have to take him in, Davy," announced Midshipman Dalzell. "Canty isn't strong enough to tow behind. And I'm coming aboard for a fresh look before I dive for Miss Wright."

"You're going to stay aboard and manage the boat," retorted Darrin quietly. "I'm going in next."

"Oh, all right, if you want to," half grumbled Dan. "But I'm just beginning to get used to it and to like it."

Dan, however, followed orders and took his seat by tiller and sheet as soon as they had towed Canty safely in the boat. Tom Foss, tired and holding on at the stern, was beginning to chatter hard, but said he was all right.

A brief instant of consultation the two midshipmen held. Then Dave Darrin, holding his hands before him, dived hard and deep into the water.

After nearly a minute he came up again, but only to take an observation. Then he sank, to explore more of the space under water.

For five minutes Darrin continued this, making four dives in all, and sinking twice without diving.

"I can't give this up, and abandon a girl," he muttered. "Dan, I've got to take more account of the current, and work gradually downstream."

A little later Dave rose with a whoop the instant that his head showed above the water.

"I've got her," Dave announced, though his voice was hoarse and panting.

"Hurrah!" came from Dan, as he saw the girl's head show above the surface. Dalzell, hauling on the sheet, ran the boat in close. Dave grasped at the rail on the weather quarter, while Dan bent over him, hauling hard. And so Ella Wright was dragged unconscious into the boat.

"I'd stay here in the water with you, Tom," explained Dave, "but I've got to be in the boat to do my share of handling her."

"Th-th-that's all r-r-r-r-right," chattered poor Foss, "I'm d-d-d-doing f-f-f-fine here—c-c-c-couldn't h-help in the b-b-b-boat"

While lying to, it had taken some fine management on the part of the midshipmen to keep the sailboat from capsizing. And now, on this rough, wave-strewn river, they had to tack back against a nearly head wind.

"Look at the crowd on the clubhouse float," gasped Dan as soon as the Naval chums had gotten their craft under way.

"Good thing," muttered Darrin. "We'll need plenty of help."

"I wonder how the crowd got wind of the thing in such short time?"

"You forget," nudged Darrin, "that there's a telephone in the clubhouse. Laura and Belle are not given to losing their heads. Undoubtedly they've been 'phoning to Gridley."

"Then they can't have overlooked the need of physicians," ventured Dan, "especially as Laura is the daughter of one."

As the boat drew nearer to the float the noise of cheers was borne to the ears of the midshipmen.

"More of the hero racket," uttered Dan disgustedly.

"I hope this won't get into the newspapers," grunted Darrin in a tone of something like real alarm. "Say, the fellows of the brigade wouldn't do a thing but make us mount chairs and read all the fulsome gush about this rescue."

"And then, after we'd finished a straight reading," groaned Dan, "we'd have to sing it next, to the tune of 'Columbia, the Pride of the Ocean.'"

"'Gem of the Ocean,' Dan," Darrin corrected.

Though in the middle of the river the sailboat had many a close shave from capsizing in the strong puffs of wind, especially with the load that the little craft carried, yet Dan Dalzell, at the tiller, brought the boat at last in under the lee side of the float, and there a score of pairs of willing hands reached out with offers of help.

Dr. Bentley was in the crowd, as were two other Gridley physicians. There were also two trained nurses, and one of the druggists had brought along a big emergency box of drugs and supplies. Between them the telephone and the automobile can accomplish a lot in these modern times.

Laura and Belle, though they had summoned the aid, now kept tactfully in the background.

The two apparently drowned girls were lifted from the boat in haste and borne to a room that had been made ready on the second floor of the clubhouse. Ab Canty was carried to another room, and Tom Foss, who nearly shook to pieces when lifted from the water, was helped after his friend.

"You two young midshipmen will have to come inside and get some of our attention," called Dr. Bentley in an authoritative voice.

"I think not, thank you, doctor," replied Dave Darrin. "The most that we want is some place where we can strip and rub down, while waiting for dry clothing."

"I know just the room, and I'll take you there," urged Len Spencer, reporter for the "Morning Blade." Len was an old friend of Dick Prescott, who, in his High School days before going to West Point, had worked as an amateur space reporter for the "Blade."

Len led the way gladly. While Dan and Dave stripped and rubbed down, Len got out of them the whole account of what they had been through. Reporter Spencer had already talked with Belle and Laura. A man in an auto had already started for the homes of the two midshipmen, to obtain changes of clothing for them.

"Now, Len," begged Dave, "don't spread on a lot of taffy. Don't smother us under the hero racket."

"But it was an heroic thing," Len argued. "And, besides, it was done with great skill, of the kind that you've gained at the Naval Academy. It makes a corking, elegant story about two of our brightest Gridley lads."

"But, Len, do you realize that the fellows at the Naval Academy will make us read aloud to them this yarn you're proposing to write about us—that is, if they happen to hear about it?"

"And then, after we've read the yarn straight, they'll make us sing it all to some blamed old tune or another," groaned Dalzell.

"Well, I can't help it," sighed good-natured Len. "It's a story we've got to have to-morrow morning. I'd lose my position if I didn't write a good story about this afternoon's work. And, now that I've got a wife and baby to feed, I can't afford to waste any good time in job-hunting."

"Then I hope none of the other fellows at the Naval Academy hear about the 'Blade's' story," gulped Dan, as he wrapped himself in a blanket while waiting for his dry clothes.

"Hear about it?" retorted Len. "They'll hear about it, all right. The Associated Press man at Gridley will be sure to send something about it to the papers all over the country."

"I guess we've got to take our medicine, Danny," hinted Midshipman Dave Darrin.

In the meantime Tom Foss was soon comfortable, wrapped up in blankets and with plenty of coffee inside him. Nor did it take long to bring Ab Canty around. In three quarters of an hour Susie Danes opened her eyes.

As for Ella Wright, the physicians and nurses worked over her long and earnestly, and were on the point of giving her up when at last a flutter of her eyelids was seen.

By night time all of the young people were quite out of danger, but the parents of the Wright and Danes families were highly indignant over the recklessness of Tom Foss in taking the girls out on the river in such a heavy wind.

Three days later even the launch was saved; that is, it was raised and was towed to a boat-builder for overhauling and repairs.

III. THE TROUBLE-MAKING FOP

The story that Len Spencer wrote for the "Blade" was "worse" than the midshipmen had expected. That is, the newspaper made them out to be heroes of some rare, solid-gold type. To add to the trouble, the story, in a condensed form, was printed broadcast by the dailies all over the country.

"We can't hope to keep it quiet, Danny boy," groaned Dave when the two chums met the next morning.

"No," sighed Dan. "The most we can hope for is to be allowed to live it down."

"And I'm much afraid that we've got to stand for a lot more of gush this afternoon," continued Darrin.

"At the reception? Oh, yes! I wish we could desert the town and get away somewhere to hide."

The affair for the afternoon was a reception for which Laura Bentley had sent out hurried invitations to a lot of the former High School boys and girls of Gridley. Though Laura was more especially interested in the U. S. Military Academy at West Point—because Dick Prescott was there—yet she did not show undue partiality to the Army.

"I'm sorry Laura didn't wait a fortnight," Dan continued.

"Oh, well, she doesn't understand," Dave urged.

"You're going, of course?"

"I surely am. I wouldn't slight that splendid girl. She's a whole lot to me, Danny boy, both for her own sake and Dick Prescott's."

Even the short stroll, however, between Belle Meade's home and Laura's, was bound to bring Dave Darrin again into the unwished-for limelight.

He and Belle had turned into Main Street together, and were walking along, chatting, when Belle's eyes flashed suddenly.

"There's that horrid wretch Ardmore," she murmured in an undertone.

"Don't believe I know him," Darrin returned.

"Then you haven't been deprived of much," replied Belle, in a tone that was very nearly bitter. "I've been meaning to tell you about him, Dave, but other matters have been cropping up and it has escaped me until now."

"What's wrong with Ardmore?" asked Dave.

"He's posing as an admirer of mine."

"I can't quarrel with his taste," smiled Darrin.

"But he annoys me."

"Has he dared to do that?" demanded Dave, a quick flash in his eyes.

"Not in any way that it would be easy to resent," Belle assured him.

"Who is this fellow Ardmore?"

"He appears to be a gentleman—at least in his ordinary conduct," Belle Meade answered. "He moved here last spring with his parents. The father is a retired lawyer, and wealthy. The Ardmores move in a rather good set in town. About a month ago Caspar Ardmore, the young man, met me at a church affair. Ever since then he has all but waylaid me. Several times he has tried to walk with me when we met, and has often tried to see me home from church or elsewhere. I've been almost downright rude to him, and have shown him in every way I can that I don't wish to continue acquaintance. But he's hard to discourage."

"He hasn't insulted you?" asked Dave quietly.

"Oh, dear, no! If he had, I think I might have been able to startle him somewhat," laughed Belle, who had a "temper" when it was necessary to have one. As she spoke she raised her eyes, glancing ahead.

"There, he has stopped, and looks almost as though he were waiting for us," she added.

"There's an ugly scowl on his face, too."

Dave Darrin looked ahead at the foppish, rather good-looking, tall and slender young man of some twenty-six years.

"I hope he isn't going to be troublesome," murmured Dave. "I don't want to have to fight with him—at least, not when you're along with me."

As they neared Ardmore, Dave continued to look at the young man quietly, steadily, frankly. Ardmore seemed trying to ignore the gaze, and looked, instead, at Belle.

Just as the young couple reached him, Ardmore raised his hat, at the same time stepping forward so that he blocked Belle's progress.

"Good afternoon, Miss Meade," was Ardmore's greeting. "I was on my way to your house when I saw you. Mother has some tickets for a concert at the Sorosis rooms, and is unable to use them this afternoon. So I have come to ask you if you will not honor me with your company at the concert?"

"Thank you, no," Belle answered coldly. "And I would also like to make it plain, Mr. Ardmore, since you make it necessary, that I do not wish your company at any time or place. I am sorry to have to speak so plainly."

A deep flush dyed the cheeks of the fop. But he was not so easily discouraged.

"I had intended to call this evening, Miss Meade. I am to have a box at the theatre."

"You may call anywhere you wish," Belle retorted, her eyes flashing, "provided it is not at my home."

"Oh, I am very much afraid that you are annoyed with me," cried Ardmore.

"I am," Belle admitted. "Mr. Ardmore, will you do me the very great favor of ceasing your attempts at acquaintance?"

"Acquaintance? Why, we're already very well acquainted, Miss Meade; in fact, I had hoped that we were, by this time, the most excellent friends. If this gentleman," with a sidelong look at Dave, "will excuse us, Miss Meade, will you stroll along with me and tell me in what way I may have offended you without intending anything of the sort?"

Dave, who had remained quiet, now felt called upon to interpose.

"Sir," he demanded, "will you observe Miss Meade's request and take yourself away?"

"And what have you to say about this?" demanded Ardmore sneeringly.

"The young lady is under my protection."

"I have offered her mine."

"And Miss Meade has just told you that you will please her most by keeping away from her at all times," replied Darrin quietly but firmly.

"What? After all the good times she and I have enjoyed together?" demanded Ardmore, as though astounded beyond measure.

"I? Good times with you?" cried Belle, her cheeks flaming. "I've never even spoken to you when I could avoid it."

"That's false!" cried young Ardmore hotly.

"Stop, right there!" warned Dave Darrin in a quieter voice than ever, though his face paled swiftly. "Did I understand you to remark that Miss Meade had made a false statement?"

"You did!"

Whack! Darrin's clenched right fist caught the fop on the temple, felling him to the ground.

"Go right on to Laura's, Belle," begged Dave quickly. "I'll be along soon."

Miss Meade walked rapidly ahead.

Ardmore was on his feet in an instant. Not wanting in a certain amount of animal courage, he rushed at Dave, only to be met with a blow in the mouth that floored him again. The fop's lip was cut and bleeding when he rose.

"You cur!" bellowed the fellow.

"The opinion of a person like you can't matter very much," Dave retorted coolly.

A little crowd was beginning to gather. Dave's pallor increased, for his very soul writhed at the thought of having Belle's name involved in a brawl in this fashion.

"You're a—" began Ardmore, but Dave Darrin moved quickly up to him.

"Do you retract the statement you made?" demanded the midshipman in a low voice.

"I retract nothing," quivered Ardmore. "I repeat, and repeat—"

Dave closed in like lightning, Ardmore attempted to guard himself, but he was all but helpless before such a fast, trained hitter as Dave. The fop went down under two well-aimed blows delivered almost together.

Once more Ardmore leaped to his feet, while Darrin disdainfully awaited him.

But two or three men in the crowd leaped between the enemies, forcing the fop back.

"Don't be a fool, Ardmore!" urged one of the men, speaking in the fellow's ear. "That's Midshipman Dave Darrin, and he's one of the quickest, hardest hitters in Gridley."

"Oh, that's the midshipman, is it?" demanded Ardmore in a sneering voice. "Oh, well, then, I won't hit him again. I know another way of making his skin smart."

Dave tarried only long enough to make sure that the fop did not care to carry the encounter further. Then, turning on his heel, he walked rapidly in the direction Belle had taken. He overtook that young lady before she reached the Bentley home.

[Illustration: Darrin's Blow Felled the Fop to the Ground.]

"If the fellow intends to trouble you again, I hope he'll do it before my leave is finished," spoke Dave quietly. "I think I've given him a little lesson, Belle, though there's no telling how long it will last with inferior animals of Ardmore's type."

"He's a spiteful fellow, Dave. You must be on your guard against him," Belle urged.

"I guess Ardmore is wishing his own guard had been more effective," smiled the midshipman.

Caspar Ardmore was "busy" within an hour after Dave's summary handling of him. Ardmore had never been considered a truly bad fellow, though he was foppish, conceited and wholly unable to understand why anything that he wanted should be denied him. Belle was now two years beyond her High School days, and had developed into a most attractive young woman. Ardmore had fallen victim to her charms and had decided that he would make a better husband for her than any Naval officer could. Hence the young dandy had pursued Miss Meade with his attentions; upon finding her with Dave, he had hoped, in his foolish way, to put an end to Darrin's pretensions.

Ardmore, therefore, having met only disaster, was now engaged in drawing up a complaint to be sent to the Secretary of the Navy, complaining that he had been set upon and treated with severe physical violence by Midshipman Darrin.

Nor was there great difficulty in finding three men, out of the small crowd that had witnessed the assault, to swear to affidavits that they had seen Darrin knock Caspar Ardmore down repeatedly.

All this "evidence" Ardmore got together with great relish, and mailed the mass of stuff, that same night, to the Secretary of the Navy at Washington.

Then Ardmore went out of town for three days. Behind him he left an active toady who promised to keep watch of matters and to advise him.

It was through this toady that Dave received an intimation that his case would be attended to at Washington. Belle, also, received a hint, and with it she went to Darrin.

"Can the fellow really make any trouble for you, Dave?" she asked anxiously.

"Why, yes," admitted Dave. "Anyone can make trouble for a midshipman, to the extent that the charge must be investigated by the Navy Department. If the Secretary were satisfied that I am a reckless sort of bully, he would decide that I am unfit to be an officer of the Navy."

IV. IN THE VIEW OF THE NAVY DEPARTMENT

Dave Darrin did not let the news of the charges disturb his outward serenity, though he was inwardly aware that perjured evidence might work great harm to his future career.

Until he was advised by the Navy Department that charges had been made against him, he really could do nothing in the matter.

But that letter from the Secretary was not long in coming. The letter informed Midshipman Darrin that he has been accused of severely assaulting a citizen without just provocation, and contained, also, some of the circumstances alleged by Caspar Ardmore. Dave was commanded to forward his defense promptly.

This Darrin did, in a courteous answer, as briefly as he could properly make it. He admitted knocking Ardmore down, but stated that he did it in resenting an insult offered by Ardmore to a young lady under his (Darrin's) escort at the time.

This letter he showed Belle.

"It is the first step, on my side in the matter," he explained with a smile.

"I should think the Secretary of the Navy ought to be satisfied with your answer and drop it at once," replied Belle.

"He may."

"But you think he won't?"

"It is likely, Belle, that there will be a court of inquiry at least."

"Oh, dear!" cried Belle, a few tears gleaming in her eyes now. "Why should so much fuss be made over the matter?"

"Because I am being trained to be an officer in the Navy. An officer must be a gentleman as well. Any charge affecting a Naval officer's honor or courtesy must be investigated, in order that the government may know whether the accused is fit to hold an officer's commission. The government wouldn't be dealing justly with the people if such standards were not observed."

"And I am the cause of all this trouble for you?" cried Belle.

"No, Belle, you are not. You have nothing to do with the matter, except indirectly. Ardmore is the one responsible for the trouble. If he had not insulted you he wouldn't have gotten into any difficulty."

"It seems too bad, just the same."

"It's annoying; that's all," Dave assured her. "If I had to do the same thing over again, for the same reason, I'd do it cheerfully."

Mrs. Meade heard of it all, from her daughter. Without saying a word as to her intentions the mother herself wrote a letter to the Secretary of the Navy. Mrs. Meade set forth the persistent fashion in which Ardmore had sought to force his attentions upon Belle, to the latter's great annoyance. Mrs. Meade's letter declared that Darrin had taken the only possible means of saving Belle from future annoyance. The mother's letter to the Secretary concluded by offering to procure statements from other people on the subject if the Secretary wished.

Mrs. Meade received a prompt reply from Washington. The Secretary thanked her for her statements and expressed entire belief in them.

By the same mail Caspar Ardmore, just returned to Gridley, received this letter:

"Referring to your letter and complaint bearing date of September 6, the Department has to advise you that other statements have also been received bearing upon your accusations of an assault alleged to have been committed upon your person by Midshipman David Darrin.

"It is claimed by the signers of other statements, including that of Midshipman Darrin, that you grossly insulted a young woman under his escort and completed the insult by accusing her of falsehood. If these statements be true, and there be no other important circumstances, except the assault, the Department begs to advise you that, had not Midshipman Darrin resented the gross insult tendered the woman under his protection, he would thereby, by such inaction, have rendered himself liable to dismissal from the Navy. It is always the first duty of a gentleman to afford ample protection to any woman under his escort and care.

"Should you deny the statements quoted above in favor of Midshipman Darrin, and should you further desire to have the matter brought to issue before a duly appointed court of inquiry, before which you would be required to appear as a material witness, this Department will be glad so to be advised. If you do not make formal application for the appointment of such court of inquiry within the next few days, no further action will be taken in the matter. Very respectfully,

"Your obedient servant,

"(Signed) LEOK B. CHAMBERS,

"Secretary of the Navy."

As he read, and realized how flat his charge had fallen, Ardmore's face passed through several shades of red.

"Of all the government red tape!" he muttered wrathfully. "I didn't think the fool Secretary would do anything like this. I thought he'd just call Darrin down hard and plenty, and perhaps bounce him out of the Naval Academy. Humph! I guess all these Navy folks stand together. There doesn't seem to be much justice about it."

Ardmore thereupon took another vacation away from Gridley. A few days after he went Midshipman Darrin received a brief communication from the Secretary of the Navy, stating that no further action had been taken by the accuser, and that the Department was satisfied that the midshipman's conduct had been fully justified. Therefore the matter would not be called to the attention of the Naval Academy authorities for action.

"So you see," smiled Dave, as he called at Belle's home and handed her the letter, "there is never any need to be worried until trouble breaks in earnest."

"Oh, I'm so glad!" cried Belle, her eyes shining with delight, "I hope you won't meet that Ardmore fellow again while you're home."

"If I do," promised Dave, "I shall merely look over his head when we meet, unless he repeats the offense that brought him that thrashing."

Ardmore, however, did not appear in Gridley again during Dave's leave of absence.

Dave and Dan tasted, to the full, the delights of life in the old home town until the day when it was necessary for them to take train and return to Annapolis.

"Mother, Laura and I will go down to Annapolis whenever we hear from you as to the best time for coming," Miss Meade promised at the railway station.

Then she found chance to murmur, in a voice too low for any of the others present to hear:

"And I'll try hard not to be such a goose as I was last winter!"

She referred to the trouble that had been made by another girl at Annapolis, the circumstances of which are wholly familiar to the readers of the earlier volumes of this series.

"I don't blame you for the way you felt last winter," Dave assured her heartily, "Next time, however, I hope you'll come to me first for an explanation."

"There isn't going to be any next time, Dave."

Three minutes later two midshipmen were being whirled through the city limits of Gridley.

V. NAVY FOOTBALL IN THE AIR

Back on the old, familiar Academy grounds!

Both Dave and Dan underwent an unconscious brace as they passed the watchman at the main gate and stepped on, each with a suit case in hand, to the left, with Bancroft Hall in the distance.

Their first move was, as it must be, to report their return to the officer in charge. By that officer the two midshipmen were assigned to the rooms that they were to occupy during the coming academic year.

Once behind their doors, both young men hastened to get out of cit. clothes and back into their beloved uniforms.

"There are worse liveries to wear than Uncle Sam's," murmured Dan Dalzell when, having arrayed himself, he glanced down lovingly at the neat, dark blue.

"Much worse," replied Dave briefly, as, having dressed, he set to work to help make their quarters neat enough to please even the captious eye of the discipline officer. By the time that the two midshipmen finished policing their quarters no housekeeper in the land could have found the least sign of disorder.

Rap-tap! sounded briskly at the door.

"Come in," called Dave.

The door opened, revealing Midshipman Hepson, of the first class.

"Are you fellows to rights?" he called.

"Come in, Hepson," urged Dave. "Yes; we're to rights as far as quarters go."

Hepson came no more than inside the door before he halted, asking briskly:

"Have you anything on!"

"Nothing but our clothes," grinned Dan, "and some hair."

"You've no appointments or engagements, then?" persisted Hepson. "My being here won't interfere with anything that you want to do?"

"Not in the least," Dave replied.

"Oh, then, I'll invite myself to a chair," declared the first classman, suiting the action to the word. "Now, you fellows can guess why I'm here."

"You're captain of this year's football eleven," Dave replied. "Has that anything to do with your call?"

"Everything," admitted Hepson briskly. "Have you fellows any notion that we've a poor eleven, so far, this year?"

"Why I thought it pretty good, from the practice work that I saw done in August," Darrin answered slowly.

"A pretty good eleven doesn't win games, sir," retorted Hepson. "Man, we've got to strengthen the team all along the line, or I'll go down in Naval Academy history as captain of the worst lot of dubs who ever chased a pigskin around the field!"

"Is it as bad as that?" demanded Dan, opening his eyes.

"Dalzell," said Hepson, "our eleven is rotten, sir—simply and fiercely useless!"

"If it's as bad as that," hinted Dan innocently, "wouldn't it be a prime good idea to draw our eleven from the field this year?"

"What? Strike the Navy's colors, and especially to the Army?" glared Mr. Hepson. "What are you talking about?"

"Then I guess," nodded Dan, "that we'll have to stay in the ring, and let it go by apologizing to the Army for getting in their way on the field the Saturday after Thanksgiving."

"We won't do that, either, by Jingo!" retorted Midshipman Hepson. "But we've got to strengthen our team. We've got to practice every minute that the commandant will allow us for practice. We've got to make a front-rank team out of—nearly nothing!"

"Aren't there any good players who have been holding back?" asked Dave Darrin.

"Two that I know of, Darrin," rejoined Hepson, fixing his eyes keenly on Dave.

"Who are they?"

"You and Dalzell."

"We haven't backed out, or refused duty," Darrin retorted quickly.

"No; but you haven't pushed yourselves forward any, either."

"Well, we're hardly team material," objected Dave modestly. "However, I'll promise for myself and Dalzell, too, that we'll turn out to all the practice we can, and work like blazes!"

"Will you?" cried Midshipman Hepson delightedly. He jumped up, grasping each midshipman by the hand in turn.

"But you don't want to bank on us too much," Darrin continued. "You know, we've never played on anything as big as the Navy team. We used to be good enough little players on a country school team. But it's different here."

"Let the coaches and the captain find that out, then," grunted Hepson. "But you'll work? You'll try to make good? You'll try to make the team and some history?"

"We'd lay down our lives for the Navy, at any point and in any sort of game," rejoined Dave Darrin simply.

"Good! Bully! That's the way I like to hear a fellow talk!" glowed Hepson, making toward the door. "You'll turn out for practice to-morrow afternoon?"

"Without fail, if we're physically able," promised Midshipman Darrin.

"Awfully obliged to you, fellows," cried Hepson, throwing the door open. "And now you won't mind if I cut my visit short? I've a lot of fellows to see, you know."

The door banged and Hepson was gone.

"Say, how's the Navy going to win under a chap as nervous as Hepson?" asked Dan.

"That isn't nervousness, Danny boy."

"If it isn't, what is it, then?"

"Electricity."

"Elec—Oh, say, now—"

"It's electricity," Dave insisted. "He's a live wire, that man Hepson. He'll pull us through on the field this year, if any one can."

"There's nothing like looking on the bright side of things," murmured Dalzell, drumming on his chair.

"I'd rather see Hepson under estimate the Navy team," went on Dave, "than feel too sure that it is invincible. Still, I believe that the Navy is going to put forward a mighty strong eleven this year. Though, of course, that is not saying that we can beat the Army."

"Why not?" demanded Dalzell almost fiercely.

"Because, no matter how good a line we put forward, the Army may put forward a better."

"Now, don't go tooting the Army's bugle!"

"I am just considering the average of chances," Darrin returned. "Danny boy, sometimes the Navy wins, but most of the games of past years have gone to the Army. So the chances are that we'll be beaten this year."

"Not if I have to die on the line to stop it!" glowed Dalzell at red heat.

"Maybe you won't even get on the Navy line; perhaps I won't, either, Danny boy. But you know we saw by the "Army and Navy Journal" that Prescott and Holmes are playing on the West Point eleven this year."

"Holmes isn't necessarily such a much, is he?" flared Dan.

"Greg Holmes is a pretty handy man on the football field," retorted Darrin warmly. "None ought to know that better than we, after we've seen Holmes pull out so many victories for the old High School team. Of course, Prescott is the better player, but Holmes can back him up to amazing advantage."

"Didn't we play about as good a game as that pair?" Dalzell demanded.

"I don't know," Dave answered thoughtfully. "Perhaps not quite as good a game. You see, in the old High School days, Dick Prescott used to lead and I often backed up his plays. So one could hardly compare us."

"If you're in such a blue funk over the Navy's chances, you'd better keep off the line-up," muttered Midshipman Dalzell.

"Oh, I'm in no funk," returned Darrin, smiling. "However, I'm not going to be betrayed into any bragging until we've wiped the field up with the Army—if we can."

Rap-tap! came on the door.

"I'll wager that's Farley," whispered Darrin.

"Or Page"—from Dan.

"Come in," called Dave.

The door opened, to let in Farley, with Page crowding on his heels.

Dave and Dan both hastened forward to clasp hands with these tried chums of other days.

"Seen Hepson?" asked Dan.

"Yes," nodded Farley. "He told us he had gobbled you. Hepson just left us."

"You're going to be on the eleven!" pressed Dan.

"If we can make it," nodded Farley slowly. "I'd like to play, too, but I'm hoping that the Navy can hit on some one better than myself."

"Cold feet!" grinned Dan.

"Not exactly," Farley answered, with a slight flush. "But it's a big thing to play on the Navy's fighting eleven. It seems almost too big a responsibility for any but a demi-god."

"Demi-gods don't play football," jeered Dan. "They're nothing but idols, anyway, and they're two thousand years out of date. What we want on the Navy line is real human flesh and blood."

"There'll be blood on the doorstep of the moon if the Army carries things away from us this year," predicted Page mournfully.

"Well, all we can do is our best," declared Dave. "We'll do that, too, and do it mightily. Wow! What's that?"

Ta-ra-ra-ta-ra-ta! sounded musically in the corridors.

"Supper formation, by Jove!" gasped Dan.

Farley and Page fled without a word. Soon the "decks" of Bancroft Hall swarmed with young life. Then, outside, to seaward, the brigade fell in by companies.

Military commands rang out briskly, roll was called, reports made and the brigade marched in to supper.

What a joyous, noisy affair it was. Some license in the way of boisterousness was allowed this evening, and most of the young men took full advantage of the fact.

Swat! A slice of bread, soaked in a glass of water and kneaded into a soppy ball, struck Dalzell full in the back of the neck, plastering his collar and sending a sticky mess down his spine.

"I'll fight the man who did that," promised Midshipman Dan, wheeling around. Then added cautiously:

"If he's a graduate."

There being, naturally, no graduates present except the officer at the furthest corner of the mess hall, Dan's challenge provoked laughter.

Many other pranks were played, but there is not room to record them here. The meal over and the brigade dismissed, some of the midshipmen—there were nearly eight hundred of them—went to their own quarters, or visited the rooms of cronies. Hundreds took the air in the grounds.

Almost the sole topic was football. Hepson speedily had most of the members of the big squad gathered about him. Others, who could not hope to "make" in football, gathered near-by, as though afraid of losing some of the talk.

"Remember, gentlemen, until the Army game is over, it's to be nothing this year but work, work, work!" warned Midshipman Hepson, with intense earnestness.

With nothing but football in the air, Dan soon caught the infection even more deeply than his chum.

"Hang it, I'm a dub," groaned Dan. "Lots of the fellows gave up their leave in order to be here and practise. Why in the mischief didn't I?"

"For the same reason that perhaps I didn't sacrifice leave," replied Dave. "I wasn't asked to. And you weren't, either, were you?"

"No; but I wish I had flung myself at Hepson's head, and made him take me, instead of going off to Gridley like a deserter! It's October now, and what earthly chance, Dave, have you and I to get in shape?"

"We'll do our best, Danny boy, or stay off the line. There's nothing to be gained by losing our heads. Regrets will be equally worthless."

"Hepson," called one midshipman, "has anyone invented the Navy yells for this year?"

"Yells?" repeated the football captain scornfully. "It's more to the purpose to fit ourselves to do something worth yelling about!"

"Has Hepson got the blues?" asked another midshipman.

"Or only the rattles?"

Football was still in the air, dominating the minds of the midshipmen when a turn of the master switch shut off the lights at taps.

VI. THE HATE OF A RIVAL

The day following was one of intense, almost complicated routine.

There were books and supplies to be drawn for the new academic year. There were uniforms and other articles of apparel to be drawn. The sections were detailed and section marchers to be appointed. There were details of military organization to be announced. Some of the young men had to go up for physical examination, even if only of the eyes.

At the afternoon recreation hour Hepson led the big football squad out to the field. Hundreds of midshsipmen went there to see how the Navy would show up in the vitally important tests. At the outset Hepson was everywhere, like a buzzing, excitable wasp. Nor did he prove to be minus a sting at times.

"I think, sir," suggested Hepson, going over to Lieutenant-Commander Havens, the head coach, "that it would be well for us to know something about the running speed of every candidate."

"Very good, Mr. Hepson; try out any man that you're curious about," replied the officer.

"Darrin, Dalzell, Page, Farley, White, Bryant," called the captain of the Navy team. "Each of you pick up a ball. Line up at this goal-line, Joyce, will you take a stop-watch and go over to the other goal-line? Adams, go along and assist Joyce. I want a record of the time it takes each man to cover the distance, running as fast as he can with the ball."

The men designated took their places.

"I'll run you first, Darrin," announced the captain. "Go like a streak, if you can. If you fall down it counts zero. Start when I say 'go.' Are you ready?"

"Quite ready."

"Go!"

At the word Dave sped away like a shot, Hepson giving a hand signal as he uttered the starting word, that the time-keeper at the other end might know when to release the watch. Dave's time was noted. Then Dan took a try, covering the distance in only two fifths of a second more time than Darrin had required. Farley was a second and three fifths behind Darrin's time; Page, a full two seconds behind. White and Bryant then ran, but only succeeded in about tying Page's work.

Then six more men were called to the line and tried out. After that a third squad. By this time Midshipman Hepson had his mind about made up as to the relative speeds of some of the most likely men for the final Navy team.

"Get out for some kicks, now!" called Hepson.

"When are you going to play football?" growled one man.

Midshipman Hepson turned on him like a flash.

"Jetson, there's a substitute captain in the squad, but you're not the man. Neither are you one of the coaches."

"Oh, you make me—" began Jetson, but Midshipman Hepson cut him short with:

"If you can't keep silence when you've nothing to say, your absence from the field will be considered a favor to the whole squad."

Jetson scowled, but said nothing more. Neither did he offer to retire from the field.

"Jetson has always been a kicker and a trouble mosquito," whispered Dan Dalzell to his chum.

"Oh, in a lot of ways Jetson is a nice fellow," Darrin replied quietly. "The greatest trouble that ails him is that he has just a trifle too large opinion of the importance of his own opinions. There are a lot of us troubled in that way."

The kicking practice was put through with dash and vim. Then Midshipman Hepson, after a brief conference with the head coach, called off the line-up for the provisional Navy team, following this with a roster of the second team, or "Rustlers," so called because they force the men of the Navy team to rustle to keep their places.

Dave Darrin was called off for left tackle, Dan for left end. Farley and Page held the corresponding positions on the right end of the line-up.

"Begin the game, the Rustlers to have the ball," called Lieutenant-Commander Havens.

"And mix it up lively, Navy," called Hepson, who, both on account of his size and other qualifications, played center.

At the whistle-blast the Rustlers kicked it off—a beautiful, long, arching curve. The ball came to quarter-back, who passed it to Dave Darrin.

Then the fun began.

The Navy line hit the Rustlers hard and tried to bump through. Dan Dalzell devoted every ounce of his strength and every turn of his energy to boosting Darrin through—and Dave himself was not idle. There was an instant of sullen, hard resistance. Then, somehow, Dave was shot through the opposing line. Like a deer he sped, Dan hanging to his flanks. It was up to the Rustlers' halfback now, and that bulky young midshipman leaped to the fray, cleverly barring the way.

At least, the Rustlers' halfback thought he had Darrin blocked. It is never wise to take too much for granted.

As the halfback planted himself for the grapple, Dave suddenly dropped through that opponent's grip and went to the ground.

As though he had been shot through, Dave Darrin went under and past, on one side, between the halfback's legs. He was up again, with Dan at his back. Fullback came at them, but Dan bumped that player aside. Dave dashed on across the line, scoring a touchdown.

Never had the gridiron been the scene of greater excitement than in that rousing moment.

"Darrin! Darrin! Darrin!" came hoarsely; from hundreds of throats.

"Dalzell! Dalzell!" came the next gusty roar.

Hepson wiped a moist brow with one hand.

"There are two real players, if they can keep that up," muttered the captain of the eleven.

Jetson had been the tackle opposed to Dave. Just now Jetson was nursing a bump to his vanity.

"How on earth did I ever happen to let Darrin through?" Jetson demanded of himself. "I won't do it again, anyway. If I can only make Darrin look small, I may get his place on the Navy eleven. Darrin is a good fellow, but I've got to make the team, confound him!"

The kick for goal failed. Then the Navy took the ball and promptly enough the Rustlers came back with it, Jetson carrying.

Dave and Dan met the ball-carrier. The Rustlers' support failed, and Jetson went down with the ball. Nor could the second team advance the ball, so it presently came to the Navy men again.

"I want you to put it through again like a cannon-ball, Darrin," Midshipman Hepson whispered as they passed.

So the quarter-backs called for a repetition of the play, giving different signals.

Dave received the ball with a rush of his old-time fervor and confidence. Dan started behind him as full of fire as ever.

In a fraction of a second the impact of the two opposing lines came. Jetson went down, one of his legs flying between Darrin's in such a way as to constitute a foul.

Dave Darrin went down on top of the ball. Half a dozen players sprawled over him. The referee's whistle blew.

"Jetson, that was a mean, deliberate trip," remarked Darrin, as he sprang to his feet. He spoke coolly, with a warning flash in his eyes.

"Not on my part," retorted Jetson.

"You thrust your leg between mine as you went down."

Coach signed to referee not to renew the game for the moment. Then Lieutenant-Commander Havens and the two team captains crowded close.

"I didn't do it deliberately, as you charged," retorted Jetson, hot with anger.

"You deny it?" insisted Dave.

"I do."

"On your word as a gentleman you did not intend, a foul trip?" demanded Midshipman Darrin.

"I have already answered you."

"Answer me on your word as a gentleman."

"I don't have to."

"Very good, then," retorted Dave, turning away with a meaning smile.

"Hold on. I pledge you my word as a gentleman that I did not intend to make a foul trip," said Jetson, swiftly realizing the error of his refusal.

In the meantime Lieutenant-Commander Havens had turned to Motley, of the first class, who was serving as referee.

"Mr. Motley," demanded coach, "did you see just what happened?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you call it a foul trip?"

"I do, sir. If I were referee in a regular game, I would penalize the team and order the player from the field."

"Mr. Jetson—" began the coach, but, swift as a flash Dave Darrin interposed, though respectfully, saluting at the same time.

"Will you pardon me, sir. Mr. Jetson has given me his word that he did not intend a foul trip. I accept his word without reservation."

"Very good, then," nodded coach. "But Mr. Jetson, you will do well to be careful in the future, and avoid even the appearance of evil."

"Yes, sir; very good, sir," answered Jetson, looking decidedly sheepish.

In giving his word Jetson had told the truth, or had intended to. The exact truth was that he really did not realize what he had done until it was too late to avoid the foul. He had meant to stop Darrin, somehow.

"Pull that scrimmage off again," directed Coach Havens dryly.

The ball was placed, the whistle sounded, and again Dave received the ball and tried to break through. With the Rustlers prepared for the move, it was blocked and the ball was "down."

Jetson felt his face burning. He knew, well enough, that many of the players regarded him with suspicion.

"I suppose that suspicion will stick, and my chances of making the Navy eleven are now scantier than ever," muttered the unfortunate midshipman to himself.

The whistle blew before any further advantage had been gained. Coach and Midshipman Hepson had gained considerable insight into the work of the team.

"Mr. Hepson," said coach aside, in the interval that followed, "you have done well, I think, to place two such men as Darrin and Dalzell on the provisional team."

"I am glad you think so, sir," replied the Navy football captain, "for that is the way it strikes me."

"If you keep them at the left flank you'll have something like dynamite there," smiled coach. "Mr. Darrin goes through like a cannon-ball, and Dalzell is always just where Darrin needs him."

"These men have played together before, and they're used to team work, sir," said Midshipman Hepson.

"So? Where did they play before coming to Annapolis?"

"On what was, in their day, one of the best High School eleven's going, sir."

"Oho! Do you know, Mr. Hepson, they play more like college men than anything else. It must have been a bully High School team that graduated them."

"From the little that I've heard, sir, that High School team was a great one."

Coach and captain walked back to the scene.

"You will now play another ten-minute period," directed Mr. Havens. "Jetson will withdraw from the second eleven during the next period and Doyle will take his place."

"So that's what coach and team captain were hatching up?" thought Midshipman Jetson. "That gives me a black eye, and my chances of making the Navy eleven are now worse than ever. Probably I won't even make sub."

As Navy and Rustlers again collided in the fray, Jetson watched Dave's work narrowly, furiously.

"Darrin always was a smooth one," Jetson declared angrily to himself. "And now, just because he raised a 'holler', my football prospects are set back for this year. Probably I can't make the eleven next year, either. And it's all Darrin's fault!"

In forming the second half the coach called:

"Mr. Jetson will resume his place as right tackle on the second eleven."

"Jetson's not here, sir," called a midshipman.

"Where is he?" asked Coach Havens.

"I think he went off the field, sir, to un-tog."

"He should not have left the field without permission," remarked the coach coldly.

Jetson heard of the remark that evening, and his anger against Dave Darrin increased.

VII. "DID JETSON DO IT?"

No sooner had release from studies sounded through big and handsome Bancroft Hall, than there came a tap at Dave Darrin's door.

"Come in," called Dave.

Hepson came in first, followed by a score of other midshipmen.

"Say, I didn't hear assembly blow lately," remarked Dan Dalzell, closing a new text-book and looking up with a smile of welcome.

"Are we intruding—so many of us," inquired Hepson, halting.

"Not on me, anyway," answered Dave pleasantly. "As for Danny boy, don't mind the little chap. He really believes that study release sounds before supper-call. Come right in, all of you fellows. Dan barks, but won't bite."

"And take seats, all of you, do," urged Dan, with unnecessary hospitality. "After the table and the chairs are used up, we'll provide tacks for the rest."

"Does this little boy ever have a serious streak?" asked one of the callers, regarding Dan with feigned interest.

"Yes; whenever he finds himself marked down to 2.1 in more than three studies," laughed Dave.

"Oh, that's no laughing matter," grimaced another of the visiting midshipmen.

"I don't suppose you can guess what we came to talk about?" went on Midshipman Hepson.

"At a wild guess it might be football," hazarded Darrin.

"Wonderful! Marvelous!" gasped another visitor.

"Darry, we've come in to tell you that we believe that you and your erratic roommate are going to save a desperate situation for us," resumed the captain of the Navy team. "Not that we were destitute of good players before. But we lacked enough of different kinds to make a strong, all-around eleven. Now we've a team that we're not afraid, after more work, to put up against anything that the Army can show us."

"Now, I wouldn't be too sure," urged Dave. "Confidence is all right, but don't let it rob us of a jot of practice and work."

"Are you afraid of the Army, Darry?" demanded Hepson.

"I'm not going to be too cock-sure, if the story is true that Prescott and Holmes are out with the Army team this year."

"Are they such great players!" demanded Hepson.

"They are," Dave responded solemnly, "or were. I know something about that pair, since I've played on the same eleven with Prescott and Holmes."

"Are they better than you two, Darry?" Hepson demanded.

"Yes," answered Dave unhesitatingly.

"Is that honesty or extreme modesty?"

"Extreme mod—" broke in Dan Dalzell, but he closed his mouth with a snap and ducked as he saw three of the visitors making for him.

"It's hard to believe," muttered Hepson, though he spoke uneasily. "Why do you rank Prescott and Holmes so high, Darry?"

"Well, for one reason, Dick Prescott taught Dalzell and myself the game. Anything that we know about the game we learned in the team that Prescott captained."

"Still, it's hard to believe," spoke up Midshipman Joyce. "Darrin, we look upon you as the best thing that ever happened to the Navy end of the gridiron."

"I don't know that I care about being 'kidded,'" responded Dave seriously.

"But we honestly do," contended the same speaker, "and we don't like to have you tell us that Prescott is a better man."

"But I believe he is."

"Are you afraid of him?"

"I'm not afraid of any one on the gridiron," Darrin retorted bluntly. "I'll work hard to beat any man that I have to go up against, and if work, this season, will do it, I'll beat Dick Prescott out!"

"Good! That's the way we like to hear you talk," glowed Hepson.

"And I'll bottle up Holmes and put the stopper in," promised Dan with solemn modesty.

Again two of the men made a rush for him to quiet him.

"It may be only a rumor that Prescott and Holmes are on the Army eleven," spoke up another midshipman.

"No," objected still another, "I had a letter, this afternoon, from a cousin who has been up to West Point and has seen the Army crowd at work. The Army is rejoicing over Prescott and Holmes as a pair of precious finds, and they're both nailed to the colors for this season."

"Then we're going to have a tough time in our game with the Army," Darrin declared thoughtfully. "And the Army will beat more college teams this year than usual."

"We won't die until the Army shoots, anyway," promised Hepson. "And now, Darry, there's another question we want to put to you, and we want an out-and-out answer. Do you believe that Jetson really meant to trip you this afternoon?"

"You heard his denial," Dave rejoined.

"Yes."

"Well, Jetson is a midshipman and a gentleman. There has never been any question here about his honor," Darrin replied. "I accepted his denial of intention at the time, and I still accept it."

"It's queer, then, how Jetson came to give you such a nasty trip," observed another caller.

"I'll tell you what I think really must have happened," Dave continued frankly. "I think Jet was crazy to stop me. It was on his mind, and he was determined to do it. He tripped me, of course, but I think he really acted on an unconscious impulse and without intention. So, at that rate, the trip was not really intended, since he had not deliberately planned it."

"Would you be willing to play on the same team with him, Darry?" pursued Midshipman Hepson.

"Yes, or with any other man in the brigade. I don't suspect any man here at the Naval Academy of anything intentionally and deliberately dishonorable."

"Good, Darry!" cried several midshipmen.

For a few minutes the talk grew fast and furious. Then some one looked at his watch and there was a prompt flight of visitors. Ten minutes later taps sounded and a master switch turned off the lights in midshipmen's quarters, with nearly eight hundred young men in their beds and already dropping asleep.

At eight the next morning the many sections marched off to recitations and for hours the grind of the day was on. At the Naval Academy, as at West Point, not even football is allowed to interfere in the least with studies or recitations. No football player is permitted to go into section room, after extra practice in the field, and announce himself unprepared to recite. Only midshipmen of a good grade of scholarship are permitted to join or remain in the football squad.

Late in the afternoon, when recreation time came, all was speedily changed. Every member of the squad hastily reported in togs. Scores of midshipmen not of the squad hastened over to see the practice work. The scores were presently increased to hundreds. Fifty or more Naval officers detailed at the yard were scattered along the side lines. Many of the wives and daughters of officers stationed at Annapolis turned out to view the work. Other young ladies came from Annapolis. There was also a big delegation of "St. Johnnies," as the gray-clad young men from St. John's College are called.

The news had evidently traveled far that the Navy had two new men on the team who were expected to prove "wonders."

"A big part of this crowd is out to see you and Danny boy," Hepson remarked to Darrin.

"Haven't they anything better to do with their time, then?" laughed Dave.

"Great Scott, man! Every one of the spectators wants to see the Navy beat the Army this year."

"But these spectators are a heap cheered up by what they've heard about you and Dalzell."

Dave, however, went about his work all but unconsciously. Never much of an egotist, he declined to believe himself the star man of the Navy eleven.

When Coach Havens called off the two teams that were to play that day, Jetson observed that he was not called for either.

"It looks as though Darrin has queered me," muttered that midshipman gloomily to himself. "I didn't think Darrin was quite as bad as that."

After the practice game had started, and Dave had put through the most brilliant play that he had yet exhibited, the air rang with his name from hundreds of throats.

"That's the way!" grumbled Jetson. "It's all Darrin now! These idiots will forget that I was ever at Annapolis."

Jetson sulked about. After the rebuke he had received the day before from the head coach, he did not dare to carry his sulk so far as to go and un-tog without leave.

Towards the end of the first half of the practice game, a man on the second team was hurt enough to be retired, and Joyce was called.

"They might have given me a chance," quivered Jetson sulkily. "I'm a lot better player than the fool coach imagines. But, anyway, I suppose Darrin has turned the coach and Hepson against me. I owe Darrin for that one!"

Five minutes later another player of the second eleven was retired with an injured wrist.

"Howard!" called the coach briskly.

"Excused for to-day, sir," reported another player.

"Any one but me!" growled Jetson.

"Jetson!" sounded the head coach's heavy voice.

Midshipman Jetson started. His face flushed. Then, for an instant, a sulky impulse seized him to reply that he did not feel up to form to-day. But the midshipman smothered that desire and started forward.

"Here, sir," he reported.

"Take right guard on second," directed Coach Havens.

"Very good, sir."

The game was resumed. Jetson, however, had a face full of sulkiness. As he joined the line-up his eyes rested on Dave Darrin.

"I wonder if Jetson means me any harm?" flashed through Dave's mind. In an instant, however, he dismissed the suspicion.

"Jetson is a midshipman, a gentleman and a man of honor," thought Darrin generously.

The whistle sounded, the ball was snapped back and passed, Darrin received it and dashed forward to carry it past the opponents.

In a twinkling there was a staggering crash. Dave was down with the ball, with men of two teams piled above him.

At the sound of the referee's whistle the mass disentangled itself. Dave and Jetson were at the bottom of the heap. Jetson was the last man up, but Dave still lay there.

"Surgeon here?" called the coach's steady voice, devoid of excitement. But there was anxiety enough when it was seen that Midshipman Darrin still lay face downward.

"Has Darrin been hurt—our Darrin—the great Darrin?" flew from tongue to tongue.

"Did Jetson do it?" was another question that was instantly asked.

VIII. DAN TRIES HARD TO KEEP COOL

A surgeon and a hospital man were quickly on the spot, the others, anxious as they were, drawing back considerately to give the men of medicine room in which to work.

As Dave Darrin was gently turned over on his back it was seen that Damn's face was a mass of blood.

"Jetson's work," grunted two or three of the players.

"He did it on purpose!"

"If he didn't, then the fellow is too clumsy to be trusted on the gridiron, anyway."

"We must chase Jetson away from the squad."

"Silence!" remarked Head Coach Havens, very simply, though in a tone which meant that obedience must follow.

Jetson, however, was not ignorant of the comments that were passing. His dark face flushed hotly with anger.

"They'll blame anything on me, if I'm within a mile of the field," he told himself sullenly.

"Is Mr. Darrin badly injured, doctor!" inquired Lieutenant-Commander Havens of the Naval surgeon.

"I think not, sir, beyond a possibly nasty mark on the face," replied the surgeon, as he examined and directed the hospital men. "Mr. Darrin is merely stunned, from too hard an impact of some sort. He'll soon have his eyes open—there they come now."

As if to back up the surgeon, Dave opened his eyes, staring curiously at the faces within his range of vision.

"What's all this fuss about?" Dave asked quietly.

"There isn't any fuss, Mr. Darrin," replied the surgeon. "You were stunned by the force of that scrimmage, and there's some blood on your face."

"Let me wipe it off then, please, sir?" Dave begged. "I want to get back in the game."

"You won't play again, Mr. Darrin," replied the surgeon.

"Not play this season?" demanded Dave in anguished amazement. "Please don't joke with me, sir."

"Oh, you'll play, after a few days," replied the surgeon, wetting a piece of gauze from the contents of a bottle that he had taken from his bag. With the gauze he wiped the blood away from Darrin's cheek, revealing a surface cut of more width than depth. Then a light bandage was put on over the cut.

"Now, I guess you can rise all right, Mr. Darrin. This hospital man will go over to hospital with you."

"I'm not ordered to stay there, I hope, sir?" murmured Dave anxiously.

"For two or three days, at any rate—yes," replied the Naval surgeon. "Not because you're going to be weak, but because we've got to have you under our eyes all the time if your face is to heal without a bad scar."

Midshipman Darrin brought his hand up in salute to the surgeon, and again to Lieutenant-Commander Havens.

"Darrin laid up for a few days!" growled Captain Hepson, of the Navy team, just after Dave had started. "Now, when every day's work counts!" Then wheeling suddenly:

"How did Darrin come to get cut in that fashion, anyway! Mr. Jetson, do you know anything about it?"

"What do you mean, sir?" demanded Jetson, bridling. "Do you insinuate that I tried to put a scar on Mr. Darrin's face?"

"I asked you what you knew about the accident—if it were an accident?" Hepson pursued coldly.

"Your 'if,' sir, is insulting!"

Then there came to the spot a presence that could not be treated with anger. Lieutenant-Commander Havens was determined to know the truth.

"Mr. Jetson, had you anything in your possession, or did you wear anything, that could cut Mr. Damn's face like that?" demanded the head coach.

"Nothing, sir, unless the sole of one of my shoes was responsible," returned Jetson, barely concealing his anger under a mask of respect to an officer of the Navy.

"Let me see your shoes; sit down on the ground first, Mr. Jetson."

The midshipman obeyed, though with no very good grace, and held up his right shoe for the inspection of the head coach.

"Now the other shoe, Mr. Jetson. Hm! Yes; along the inner sole of this shoe there are signs of what looks very much like blood. See here, Mr. Hepson."

"Yes, sir; most certainly this is a streak of blood rubbed into the leather along this rather sharp edge of the sole."

"May I suggest, Mr. Havens," hinted Jetson, "that something else may have scratched Mr. Darrin's face, and that the blood trickled to my shoe? I was under Mr. Darrin, somewhat, sir, in the scrimmage when the bunch went down."

There was really nothing that could be proved, in any case, so the head coach could only say very quietly:

"Let the practice go on, Mr. Hepson. Put Mr. Wardell temporarily in Mr. Darrin's place on the line."

There was one in the group who had not said a word so far. But he had been looking on, his keen eyes studying Jetson's face. That looker-on was Midshipman Dan Dalzell, who, as the reader knows, sometimes displayed a good deal of temper.

"Jetson," muttered Dan, as the other midshipman came over by him, "I shall need a little talk with you at the early convenience of us both."

"Whenever you like," retorted Midshipman Jetson, flashing back a look of defiance.

Then the game went on. By supper time the men of the brigade knew that Darrin was getting along comfortably; that he was in no pain and that he was in hospital only in the hope that he might be saved the annoyance of wearing a disfiguring scar on his face throughout all his life.

"I'm afraid that some of the fellows think I purposely cut Darrin up in that fashion," remarked Jetson to his tablemates during the evening meal.

"Don't you know that you didn't?" inquired one of the midshipmen laconically. None of the other men at table took heed of Jetson's words.

At some of the other tables equal silence did not prevail. Midshipmen who did not accuse or suspect Jetson of intentional wickedness expressed the opinion that he was, at all events, careless and not a valuable member of the football squad.

Jetson himself was wholly aware that he was more or less suspected in the minds of many, and the knowledge made him savage.

During the few minutes recreation that followed the evening meal, Dan Dalzell approached the sullen one, who was now standing quite alone.

"Mr. Jetson, I shall be glad to have a talk with you," announced Dan. "Will you come to my room, or shall I go to yours?"

"Lead the way to your room, sir," replied Jetson stiffly.

Dan did so, and behind the door the two midshipmen faced each other.

"Well, sir!" demanded the visitor.

"Mr. Jetson, both times that you have played against Darrin something has happened to him."

"Don't insinuate, Mr. Dalzell. If you anything to say, speak out plainly, sir."

"I hardly know what to say," Midshipman Dan confessed. "As a midshipman, your honor should be above question."

"Do you wish to remark that it isn't?"

"Why, I don't know," Dan answered frankly. "It seems a fearful thing to say, or even to think, about a midshipman."

"Mr. Dalzell, either I did, or I didn't, intentionally injure Mr. Darrin. Yon must think one thing or the other. If you suspect that I did the thing intentionally, then why beat about the bush?"

"I don't want to beat about the bush, and, on the other hand, I don't want to do you any injustice, Mr. Jetson, I thought perhaps you would be willing to help me out by proffering your midshipman's word of honor—"

"And I," rejoined Jetson in cold anger, "consider it insulting, sir, that I should be asked to pledge my word of honor."

"That is an extreme position to take," protested Dan. "No good man, when appearances are against him, should be afraid to offer his word of honor."

"Suppose," sneered Jetson, in suppressed fury, "I should go to the other extreme, and say that I did it on purpose?"

"Then I'd knock you down, like a dog," Dan answered directly and simply, "and next call on the men here to drive you forth from the brigade."

"If you think you could knock me down," quivered Midshipman Jetson, "you'd better go ahead and find out whether your guess is correct. Dalzell, you've been highly insulting, and I don't mind declaring that a fight with you would suit me, at present, better than anything that I can think of."

"Then you have your recourse, in a challenge," Dan hinted promptly.

"What's the need of a challenge, seconds—or of anything but fists? I don't need them."

"The brigade claims some supervision over fights between the men here," Dan replied. "I intend to demand that the class take up, as a class matter, the mishap to Darrin this afternoon."

"You—you hound!" panted Jetson, in a sudden flare-up of anger.

"Careful!" warned Dalzell, clenching his fists and facing his man squarely.

With a snort of rage Jetson launched himself forward, aiming two blows at Dan.

Dan parried the blows coolly, but his eyes flashed.

He had not lost control of himself, but he was warming up to the instinct of fighting when no other course seemed open.

IX. A NARROW SQUEAK WITH THE O.C.

Jetson's next blow grazed Midshipman Dalzell's chin. The follow-up blow landed on Dan's left ear.

Now Dalzell "sailed in" in earnest. He attacked forcefully and swiftly. Jetson was forced to give ground. Dan pursued him around the room. Being no coward, Jetson stood well up to the work, driving in for himself at least two out of every five blows that were landed.

Rap-tap-tap! sounded on the door, but neither combatant heard.

Smash! Dan's forceful right landed on Jetson's neck, sending that midshipman to the floor, whereupon Dalzell sprang back three paces.

"Take your time getting on to your feet," called Dan in a low voice.

"I don't want any time," snapped Jetson, leaping to his feet.

The words of both speakers were heard at the door, and the visitor who had knocked now promptly entered.

Fortunate it was for the combatants facing each other that the intruder was not one of the discipline officers. Had it been, both midshipmen would have been reported at once under charges that would have borne serious results.

Instead, it was Farley who entered, followed by Page, Hepson and Joyce.

"Wow!" uttered Midshipman Farley in a low voice. Then: "Stop this, fellows!"

At the order, which Dan knew to be intended for his own good, the latter turned away, letting his hands fall. Jetson, on the point of a rush, realized that he had better desist.

"Joyce, you stand outside," ordered Farley in a low voice. "Stand right at the door. If you see the O.C. (officer in charge) turning into this corridor, you rap as hard as you can on the door, and we'll understand."

Midshipman Joyce wanted most badly to be a spectator to what was likely to happen on the inner side of the door, but he had the good sense to realize that some one must do guard duty, so he stepped outside, closing the door after him.

"Now, gentlemen, what's this all about?" demanded Hepson in a low, smooth voice.

"It means," cried Jetson passionately, "that I'm not going to stand any more of this petty persecution. Everyone has been trying to pretend that he believes I've been trying to do Darrin up so that he can't play on the Navy football team. It's all just a mean scheme to keep me from making the Navy eleven."

"There's no such scheme afloat, or I'd know about it," returned Hepson coolly. "Fact is, there isn't any intention whatever of playing you on the Navy team."

"Ah, you admit it!" snapped Midshipman Jetson, first turning white, after which his face showed a deep crimson of humiliation. "You've already done the dirty work."

"Fellow, stop this talk!" commanded Hepson, almost at a white heat of resentment, "Among midshipmen and gentlemen there can be no thought of what you term 'dirty work.' The fact that you won't play with us is due to your uncontrollable temper. A fellow who can't control his nerves and temper isn't fitted to play football—a game that requires cool judgment at every moment of the game."

"Then, while you're telling me what to stop, you just stop addressing me as 'fellow,'" cried Jetson, his lip quivering with rage.

"I'll admit that was hasty on my part," agreed Midshipman Hepson, "but it seemed necessary to use some word to bring you to your senses. And now, this fight, which would get you both into serious trouble if a discipline officer came upon the scene, must cease."

"I'm afraid it can't," broke in Midshipman Dalzell with quiet dignity. "At least, I won't agree to stopping until Mr. Jetson admits himself satisfied. It was he who started the fight, and only his word can close it. But we don't want you other fellows pulled into this trouble as spectators, so we'll wait until you all withdraw."

"If you're determined to fight," rejoined Hepson, who was the only first classman present, "then we don't want to stop the fight. We'll stay and see it pulled off fairly. But, Dalzell, do you really want to fight?"

"I didn't want to," Dan answered. "But, now that Mr. Jetson has started it, it must go on until he's satisfied. Up with your hands, sir, and when you start in, I'll answer you."

The visitors skipped back, in order to leave the combatants plenty of room for footwork. Since Jetson had heard definite announcement of the fact that he could not hope to be called to the Navy eleven, his inward flame of passion had burned up high. He was now ready to fight with all the force that there was in him.

In the first few seconds his assault was so resolute that Dalzell was forced to give ground. As he slowly retreated and shifted, Jetson drove in more impetuously than ever.

Midshipman Dan found himself at last in a position of advantage.

"Now, hammer him, Danny boy!" advised; Farley, breathing deeply.

"Silence among the spectators," warned Hepson in a low, stern voice. "Absolutely fair play, gentlemen, to both contestants!"

Again the showering exchange of blows. Jetson, after his late rapid expenditure of force and nerve-energy, was now just the least bit confused. Dan landed on one ear, and then against his enemy's chin. Both were hard, dazing blows, though neither left a mark.

Then an uppercut and Dalzell landed on Jetson's jugular. With, a gasp the fellow went down to the floor.

"One, two, three, four—" Hepson began counting.

"Don't bother with the count," begged Dalzell "I'll give him all the time he wants to get to his feet."

Rap-tap-tap-tap! came a banging summons on the door, followed by Midshipman Joyce's voice demanding:

"Are you in, Danny boy?"

Swift as a flash Hepson and Farley leaped forward, fairly snatching Jetson, who was still half dazed, to his feet.

In the same instant Page called out cheerily:

"Come in under full steam, whatever craft is outside!"

"Brace up? Jetson! Don't look silly or dazed,", warned Hepson, in a stern whisper. "That rap was the signal of the approach of the O.C."

Farley was industriously brushing the signs of dust from Jetson's uniform.

"I tell you, fellows," boomed Hepson's tranquil, earnest voice, "we've got to hustle every minute of practice time. Nothing else will give us a chance to win."

"We haven't even a chance if Darry isn't soon back on the gridiron," argued Farley.

"Oh, he'll be all right soon," broke in Dan Dalzell eagerly.

Joyce had already stepped into the room, leaving the door open. Now, as though by instinct, the midshipmen seemed aware that the O.C., who to-day happened to be Lieutenant Cotton, U.S.N., was standing in front of the doorway gazing in.

Instantly the middies came to the position of attention, looking straight ahead of them.

"Good evening, gentlemen," greeted the O.C. "Is anything unusual going on?"

"We have been discussing the football situation, sir," announced Midshipman Hepson quite truthfully.

Had Hepson been asked if there had recently been a fight in progress he would have answered truthfully, but he did not feel called upon to volunteer damaging information.

"I thought I heard sounds as of some disturbance," remarked the O.C., looking at the young men rather sharply. "That is to say, I was under the impression that there had been some unusual agility in operation. I heard something that sounded like scuffling."

"Yes, sir," replied Mr. Hepson; "I think it very likely. The men on this deck, sir, can't think of anything in these days but line-ups and scrimmage tactics."

"It occurred to me," went on the O.C., "that there was some sound of scuffling in this room."

"There was, sir," admitted Midshipman Hepson candidly. "There was a species of scrimmage."

"Was it in connection with football?" inquired Lieutenant Cotton.

"Yes, sir,"—which answer, again, was wholly truthful.

"Ah, I thought I heard something like a scrimmage in the room," assented Lieutenant Cotton. "Yet remember, gentlemen, that quarters is not the place for football practice."

"Very good, sir; thank you, sir," replied the unmovable Hepson.

"And remember that it is now very close to the time for study call," continued the O.C.

"Yes, sir; thank you, sir. We are just parting to our various quarters, sir."

"Good evening, gentlemen."

"Good evening, sir."

Lieutenant Cotton passed on down the corridor, and the midshipmen eased themselves from the rigid position of attention.

"That was a narrow squeak," grunted Hepson. "Now, Jetson, get out ahead."

"I'll renew this argument at another time," retorted Jetson slowly, as he crossed the floor.

"You don't need to, sir," Midshipman Hepson advised him. "Every gentleman here will agree with me that Mr. Dalzell had the best of the affair right up to the end. Nor is Mr. Dalzell under any obligation whatever to afford you another meeting on the score of to-night's disagreement."

"We'll see about that," snapped Jetson, as he passed through the doorway.

At that instant the study call sounded. The others hastened away to their quarters.

Dan Dalzell stepped over to the handbowl, washing his hands, after which he went to his study-table and began to arrange his books.

"It's kind of lonely to sit here without old Darry," sighed Dan dismally. "I hope he'll be here with me to-morrow evening. No; I don't either, though. I want him to stay over in hospital until there's no chance whatever that he'll have to wear an ugly scar through life."

It was three evenings later when Midshipman David Darrin returned to his own quarters in Bancroft Hall. By this time the surface wound on his face was healing nicely, and with ordinary care he would soon be without sign of scar.

"Pills (the surgeon) told me that I'll have to be careful and not let anything bump this face for days to come," remarked Dave, pointing to the strip of adhesive plaster that neatly covered his injury.

"Well, you don't need to bump anything," replied Dan quietly. "Hepson wants you on the gridiron the worst way, but he has told me that he won't even allow you to get into togs until Pills has certified that you're fit to play."

"It's tough," sighed Dave, then quietly began his studies.

It is a rare proceeding to send a midshipman to Coventry; a step that is never taken save for the gravest reasons. Dan, having fought, did not feel it necessary to bring Jetson's case before a class meeting, and Jetson escaped Coventry. He was not cut, yet he soon discovered that the average classmate paid no more heed to him than appeared to be necessary for courtesy's sake.

After another week "Pills" consented to Dave Darrin's going out for regular gridiron practice. Dave needed the work badly, for the Navy team was now on the eve of the first game of the season.

Jetson, with no hope now of making the eleven this year, avoided the field for a few days.

The first game of the season took place on a Saturday afternoon. The opponent was Hanniston College. Ordinarily, in the past, Hanniston had been an easy enough opponent, though there had been years in which Hanniston had carried the score away from the field.

"How many of the regular team do you want to throw into the game against Hanniston, Mr. Hepson?" inquired Lieutenant-Commander Havens the night before the game.

"Every one of them, sir," Hepson answered the head coach. "Until we get into a real game, we can't be sure that we've the strongest eleven. To-morrow's game will show us if we have made any mistakes in our selections."

Even though Hanniston was considered one of the lesser opponents, every man in the brigade speculated with great interest, that night, on the probable outcome of the morrow.

"Darrin will have a good chance to prove himself, a dub to-morrow," thought Midshipman Jetson darkly. "I hate to wish against the Navy, but I'll cheer if Darrin, individually, ties himself up in foozle knots!"

X. THE GRIDIRON START

On the day of the game the midshipmen talked eagerly, and mostly of football, through dinner in the great messhall of the brigade.

"Did any one see the Hanniston infants arrive?" demanded Page.

"Infants, eh!" called Joyce from the next table. "That shows you didn't see the visiting eleven."

"Why? Are they of fair size?" asked Farley.

"It took two 'buses to bring the regular eleven, besides the subs and all the howlers," retorted Joyce. "And the regular eleven, I am reliably informed, tip the scales at four tons."

"Oh, come, now, Joyce, shave off a ton or two," protested Farley.

"I won't take off more than fifty pounds, sir," retorted Joyce with mock stubbornness. "Say! The Hanniston fellows are enormous."

"Then they've run all to bones and haven't any brains," grinned Dan. "After all, we don't mind mere bulk, for intelligence wins most of the games on the gridiron."

"As to their intelligence, I can't say," admitted Joyce. "At any rate, from the glimpse that I got of the Hans, I should say that they average two years older than our men."

"Let's throw up the sponge, then," proposed Dalzell demurely. "If we can't beat the visitors what's the use of playing them? It isn't even necessary to get into togs. We can send a note to the referee, and he can award the game to Hanniston."

"Fine!" broke in Hepson scornfully.

"However, I guess we aren't going to have any cinch to-day," joined in Midshipman Waite, from another table. "I have word from outside, by the way."

"What word?"

"Well, the Hanniston fellows have brought over some money with which to back up the howls they're making for their team. They're offering odds of ten to six that Hanniston wins."

"They stand to lose a lot of money," grinned Hepson.

"But here's the funny part of it," continued Waite. "You know, when the townspeople in Annapolis think they have a really good thing on us, they cover the money of visitors in any wagers on the games."

"Then here's hoping that the Annapolis townspeople win a lot to-day," laughed Midshipman Hepson.

"Yes, but," returned Waite, "what I hear from town is that the Annapolis townspeople have been driven to cover; that they aren't taking up the offers of the visiting Hanniston boys."

"Too bad!" sighed Dave Darrin. "And Annapolis needs the money so badly, too."

"Are we going to win?" asked Waite bluntly.

"Too early to tell you," replied Hepson coolly. "Ask me at supper to-night. But the townies won't wager any money on us this year, eh?"

"The Annapolis people have put up some, but not much," replied Waite.

"We're going to win, just the same," announced Dan Dalzell.

"Sure?" questioned several voices.

"Oh, yes! It's all settled now," laughed Midshipman Waite. "I've been waiting for Danny boy to tell us. Now, we know—we've heard from the hot-air meter."

There was a laugh in which Dan didn't join readily, though his face reddened considerably. Midshipman Dalzell was one of those who always believed that the Navy must win, just because it was the Navy. Some of the other midshipmen didn't go quite as far as that in their confidence.

"Better not call Danny boy names," advised Dave Darrin gravely. "He might be sulking at just the time when we need him this afternoon."

"That would be unmilitary," retorted Mr. Waite.

"Oh, no," said Dave lightly. "Even as good a soldier as Achilles sulked in his tent, you know."

"Achilles? What class was he in, then?" demanded Waite. "I don't remember the name."

"He was in a class of his own, at the siege of Troy," volunteered Farley.

"Troy, N.Y.?" inquired Waite.

"If you keep on, Waite," muttered Farley, "someone will have to give you an ancient history book at Christmas. You don't seem well posted on Greek tales."

"Don't have to be, thank goodness," returned Waite, helping himself to another piece of beef. "Greek isn't on the list here."

There was abundant time for rest before the game. The players and subs, for the Navy team, however, were early at dressing quarters. Jetson hadn't been called as one of the subs., so he walked sulkily and alone through the grounds while most of the midshipmen strolled, about in groups.

Half an hour before the time for the game the spectators' seats held fair-sized crowds. At that time the Naval Academy Band began to play, just to keep the waiting ones more patient.

Ten minutes later the Hanniston players came on to the field at a slow trot. Instantly the Hanniston howlers in the audience began to whoop up the noise. The midshipmen joined in cheers, and then the band took up the music again.

At first sight of the visitors, some of the Navy people began to have their doubts about victory. The Hannistons surely were "bulky." In size and age, the visitors were as formidable as any of the college elevens.

Many of the midshipmen, too, recalled what they had heard Waite say at table. It seemed little wonder that the popular odds were against the middies.

But the band, having played its welcome to the Hannistons, who were now chasing a ball over the field in practice, almost immediately switched off into the strains of "See, the Conquering Hero Comes!"

All doubts were dispelled for the moment at least, as all the Navy people present let loose a tremendous cheer in which the midshipmen spectators led, for now Captain Hepson was leading his own men on to the field, the hope of the Navy that day.

"Hepson! Hepson!" went up rousingly from the brigade.

"Darrin! Darrin!" howled others.

"Dalzell!"

"Darrin! Darrin!"

"Hepson must enjoy hearing more noise for Darrin than for himself," reflected Jetson moodily.

But Hepson, big in body, heart and mind, was intent only on victory. It did not even occur to the captain of the Navy eleven that Darrin was getting more of a reception than himself. Hepson was simply and heartily glad to find himself supported by two such promising gridiron men as Darrin and Dalzell.

"Remember, Darry, how much we're backing on you to-day," muttered Hepson, after another round of yells for Dave had been given.

"I can't do everything, and perhaps not much," smiled Dave. "But I'll do my level best to do all that you call upon me for at my own little spot in the line."

A din of Hanniston yells was now smiting the air. Uncle Sam's midshipmen waited with patience and courtesy, but when their turn came they volleyed forth four times as much as the visiting howlers could supply.

"I hope Darry is in great form to-day," murmured the midshipman seated next to Jetson.

"He looks to be in as good shape as ever doesn't he?" asked Jetson sullenly.

"Oh, I forgot," exclaimed the other. "You don't like Darry any too well."

"I've nothing against him that would make me want to see him in bad form," grumbled Jetson. "I'm a Navy man and I don't want to see any but Navy victories."

The toss had just been made, the visitors winning the kick-off. At a sign from a Navy officer in the field the leader silenced his band and a hush fell over the gridiron and the seats of the onlookers.

XI. THE BAND COULDN'T MAKE ITSELF HEARD

Within five minutes the Hanniston players had established the fact that they were not only bulky, but quick and brainy. In fact, though the Navy promptly blocked the ball and got it, the middies were unable to make headway against the college men. Then Hanniston took the ball, fighting slowly but steadily toward the Navy goal line.

"I don't see Darrin making any wonderful plays," thought Jetson to himself. He was gloomy over seeing the Navy outplayed, but secretly glad that the spectators had as yet found no occasion to shout themselves hoarse over Midshipman Dave's work.

Outside of the brigade the other spectators in the Navy seats felt themselves tinder a cloud of increasing gloom.

"From all the talk I had expected more of Mr. Darrin," remarked an officer's wife, to her husband.

"Darrin has a fearful Hanniston line against him," replied the officer. "Captain Hepson realizes that, too, and he isn't pushing Darrin as hard as you might wish to see."

"We're going to be beaten, aren't we?" asked another Navy onlooker.

It was as yet too early to predict safely, though all the appearances were that the visitors would do whatever scoring was to be done to-day.

Yet, even when they felt themselves outclassed, the middies hung to their opponents with dogged perseverance. It took nearly all of the first half for the Hannistons to place the Navy goal in final, desperate danger.

Then, of a sudden, while the Hannistons worked within a dozen yards of the Navy goal line, the college boys made a new attack, the strongest they had yet shown.

There was a bumping crash as the lines came together, at the Navy's right. Farley and Page were swept clear off their feet and the assailants swept onward. Another clever attack, backed by a ruse, and one of the college boys started on a dead run with the ball. In vain the Navy's backs tried to stop him. The Hanniston boys successfully interfered for their runner, and the ball was touched down behind the goal line.

Gone were the cheers that had been ascending from the brigade. All the Navy crowd gasped in dismay. The ball was carried back, kicked, and Hanniston had scored six points.

"Ha, ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha, ha—Hanniston! Wow!" went up derisively from the visiting howlers.

"Hepson! Hepson! Pull us out!" came the appeal.

"Darry! Darry! Rush it!"

As the two elevens were lining up for another start the time-keeper's whistle sounded the end of the first half of the game.

Gloomy, indeed, were those who had hoped to see the Navy win. There were no cheers, save from the visitor-howlers. The best that the leader of the band could do, was to swing his baton and start in the strains of "'Twas Never Thus in Olden Times."

"What do you make of the enemy, Hepson?" inquired Joyce, as the middies rested at the side lines.

"We haven't made anything of them yet, but we've got to make wrecks of 'em before the last half is over," grunted the captain of the Navy.

"How are we going to do it?" asked another player.

"By just hanging at them with sheer grit," replied the captain gravely. "Fellows, they've beaten us so far, but they haven't worn us out any. Big fellows as the Hannistons are, they may not have the endurance to hang to us through all of the coming half."

"That makes me remember a song I heard when on leave this year," grinned Page. "A part of it runs:

'Said the ant to the elephant, "Who are ye shoving? There's one wide river to cross!"'

"And we're the elephants?" inquired Farley in mock innocence.

"Do we look it?" demanded Page in disgust.

"Remember, fellows," warned Hepson, as the signal summoned both teams back to the field, "many a hopeless game has been won in the last five minutes. But don't wait. Hammer the college boys from the start!"

"Dalzell and I can stand hard work and pounding whenever you get ready to put it on us," Dave announced to Hepson. "Don't try to spare us any. Both of us would sooner be carried away on stretchers than see the Navy lose its first game to a minor college."

The game was resumed. For ten minutes the Navy played mainly on the defensive. Indeed, to the spectators it seemed all that the middies could do against such big fellows as the visitors.

Just after that, however, Hepson passed the silent signal, and then the midshipmen hurled themselves into the fray to test out all the endurance that the Hanniston players might possess.

Many a college boy on the opposing line wondered where these smaller men in the Navy togs had obtained all the fight that they now showed. The big fellows didn't seem able to stand it long. The Navy had the ball, and now slowly fought down toward the college goal. Onlookers in the Navy seats began to stand up, to watch breathlessly, and be ever ready to cheer.

"Hurl little Darry in!" yelled someone hoarsely in a momentary lull in the noise.

But Hepson, watching every chance with tigerish eyes, was yet cool-headed, as a football general should be. Twice he used Darrin to advance the ball, and each time Dave gained a few yards. The third time, wearied by pounding his head against a human stone wall, Dave failed to gain more than half a yard. Watchful Hepson sent the ball, after the next snap-back, over to the Navy's right.

The time of the second half was slipping away, and it now looked as though the middies might gradually have won by the steady, bull-dog quality of their tactics.

Nearer and nearer to the college goal line the team of smaller men fought the pigskin, until at last they had it within six yards of the Hanniston fortress. But at this point the visitors stayed further progress long enough to have the pigskin ovoid come to them by a block.

The situation was desperate. Hanniston could not get the ball away from its present locality, and in dread the college captain sent the ball back of his own line to a safety.

This counted two for Annapolis, but it also set the ball back twenty-five yards from the college line.

"Block! block! block—if you can't fight the ball back to the Navy goal," was the word that Captain Hart, of the college team, sent along his own line. "Don't be too reckless. Just fight to keep the Navy from scoring."

"Hepson! Hepson!" came, appealingly, from the seats, as the two elevens lined up at the twenty-five-yard line.

"Darry! O Darry!"

Grim determination written on their faces, eleven middies awaited the signal, then hurled themselves forward like tigers.

The ball came to Dave, who started with it. Dan Dalzell, watching his chum with cat-like eyes, followed and made the best interference that he had offered that day.

Five and a half yards won!

As center bent for the snap back, a "fake" signal was called by the Navy quarter-back.

Just as the ball started, the Navy players back of the line started toward the right The Hanniston men, tired now, but full of grit as ever, moved to block. The Navy gained a second or two, for the pass was really to the left, and again Darrin had the pigskin clutched tightly as he started to ran and deceive. Again Dan and the others of the interference sustained their idol and champion. Dave went soon to earth, but he had forced the ball another six yards!

"Darry—oh, Darry!"

"One more play and over the line!"

"You've got the elephants going at last."

"Rush 'em!"

"A touchdown saves us!"

Dan's face was flushed, Dave's white and set as the line again formed for the next play.

Quarter-back Joyce held up his head, watching the field like a mouse seeking escape.

Then came the emergency signal: "Nine—fourteen—twenty-two—three!"

Back came the pigskin while the middies seemed to throw their bodies toward the right. It looked as though they were trying to mask this feint.

The ball was in motion. But Dave had it, instead of Farley. Instantly the Navy swung its entire line toward the left, for this was the grand rush, the die on which everything was cast!

Dave was darting forward, and never had his interference backed him better.

Before Midshipman Darrin stood one of the big college men, who looked fully equal to stopping the midshipman anywhere and at any time.

Nor did Darrin try to dodge this bulky player. Instead, Dave, as he hurled himself at the opponent, sprang high into the air, as though he had some desperate plan of leaping over the barrier.

Braced on his legs, his two feet solidly planted, this Hanniston man felt ready for any shock that Dave Darrin could bring against him.

But Darrin did not touch him. On the contrary, the Navy's hope fell to the ground, just short of the blocking opponent.

Like a flash Dave went between that pair of solidly braced, wide-spread legs. In a wriggle that looked flash-like to the breathless beholders, Darrin was through. He had taken desperate chances, when he went down, of being beset, end forced to hold the pigskin where he had fallen.

But now Dave was up and running, and the player who had sought to block him was far in the rear.

The whole Navy force hurled itself around this point, battering down the startled opposition. With fast-coming breath Dave's comrades pushed him along breaking down all opposition—until Dave, with a sudden, wild dash, was over the line for a touchdown.

"Darry did it! Darry did it!"

For fifteen seconds the uproar was deafening. The college players looked stunned, while their howlers, over on the visitors' seats, seemed to shrink within their coats.

"Seven to six!"

"Make it eight!"

Dave Darrin had borne the brunt of battle. Now his eyes were flashing with excitement.

"I'd like you to try the kick for goal, Darry, but I don't know," called Hepson in his ear. "You may be about used up."

"Let me have the kick. I'm not afraid," Dave half boasted, for now he could think of nothing but victory.

"All right. Take it," agreed Hepson.

Dave Darrin did take the kick. Never had he made a better one. The ball went straight and true between the goal-posts.

The band-leader held his baton poised, but the Navy spectators broke into such a riot of joy that he let the baton fall inertly.

"What's the use?" he asked the musicians.

Again the players lined up, with the Navy; score eight to six.

Ten seconds later, the whistle blew, announcing the end of the game.

XII. JOYCE IS BITTEN BY THE TROUBLE BUG

The game was over. The giant visitors had departed, and the Naval Academy atmosphere appeared to be rarefied.

Most of the members of the brigade were back in Bancroft Hall, and this being late Saturday afternoon, study was over save for those who felt the need of devoting extra time to their books.

Farley, Page and Joyce had dropped into the room occupied by Dave and Dan.

"Hepson was nearly crazy this afternoon," remarked Joyce, laughing.

"Then he had an easy way of concealing the fact," Dave replied. "I call him a cool football captain, with plenty of judgment and patience."

"Yes; but I happen to know that he was badly upset," returned Joyce. "Twice he sent me the wrong signal about the numbers to call, and he admitted it afterward. He was afraid, before the game was twenty minutes' old, that we were up against a big walloping."

"Oh, well," Darrin replied, with a shrug of his shoulders, "the Navy is just as used as the Army is to being walloped in athletics. The trouble with the Army and Navy teams, in athletics, is that we're always pitted against college men who are bigger and older than we are. It's just about as unfair to us, as it would be unfair to High School teams if we played against High Schools instead of colleges. We could wallop High School outfits at either baseball or football, and the only wonder is that the Army and Navy win as many games as they do against the colleges. College teams have more time for training than the Army or Navy teams do."

"What are you going to do to-night, Darry?" Joyce asked presently. "The hop?"

"No," Dave answered almost shortly. The truth was that he was no "hop-fiend" or "fusser." Except when Belle Meade was at Annapolis to go to a hop with him, Darrin had little liking for the ball.

"I don't intend to hop either," Joyce continued. "Now, are you well enough up in grease to get town leave for the evening?"

"Grease" means good standing on the conduct report.

"Yes," nodded Dave. "Danny and I could easily get town leave, if we had a good excuse. But, of course, it's out of the question to get leave merely to roam the streets. We'd have to explain where we were going, and then go there."

"There's a show on at the theatre," broke in Dalzell.

"Yes," nodded Dave. "But do you know what kind of show it is?"

"No."

"It's a burlesque show, brought here to win away the half dollars of the sailors on the ships here. We'd stand very little chance of getting leave to go to that kind of show."

"But I want to go somewhere, away from the Academy grounds, just for a couple of hours," sighed Joyce.

"I'd like to go also," agreed Dave. "But where could we go? That is, to what place or for what purpose could we go that would be approved by the O.C.?"

This proved to be a poser indeed.

"Fact is," Joyce went on, "I'm so desperate for a little change that I don't believe I'd funk at taking French over the Academy wall. What do you two say?"

"That dog won't bark," Dave retorted.

"Oh, you greaser!" Joyce shied at him.

"Well, I am greasing to the extent that I won't imperil my chances of keeping in the service by taking any French leave," Darrin replied steadily. "So, Joyce, I'm afraid a trip to town to-night is out of the question, unless you can think up some plan to get by the O.C."

"How are you on Frenching the wall, Danny boy?" queried Joyce.

"Just about as big a muff as Darry," Dan returned dryly.

Joyce remained for some moments in deep meditation. He wanted to go into Annapolis, and he didn't care about going on a lonesome expedition. The more he thought the better Joyce realized how hard it was to frame a request that would get past the O.C.

"I have it," spoke up Dalzell at last. "We'll ask leave to run up to Baltimore to consult an oculist."

"You idiot!" cried Joyce impatiently. None of us need spectacles."

"Besides, there's no train running to Baltimore as late as this," added Dave.

"No good, then," sighed Dalzell, "and my inventiveness is gone."

"I'm afraid we'll have to French it over the wall," insisted Joyce.

"You'll French it alone, then," Dave declared. "I draw the line at leaving the grounds without official permission."

"Prig!" grunted Joyce under his breath. Then he started up, his eyes shining with the light of a new resolve.

"Got an idea?" asked Dan.

"Yes," said Joyce. "And you'll call me a fool if I let you in on it now. Wait until I see how it works."

With that he hastened from the room. Darrin drew down a book from the bookshelf, and from between its pages extracted a letter from Belle, which he began to read for the dozenth time.

A few minutes passed. Then Joyce knocked, next entered the room with jubilation apparent in his face.

"I've fixed it," he cried. "All you fellows have to do is to go to the O.C. and make your request in person."

"Request for what?" Dave asked, looking up as he folded the letter.

"I told the O.C., plumply, that we were so tired of being on this side of the wall that we felt desperate for a change. I reminded him that we are all three in the top grease grade, and told him that we wanted permission to take a short stroll through Annapolis to-night. O.C. hemmed and hawed, and said it was a most unusual request for the evening, though proper enough for Saturday afternoon. At last he called up the commandant of midshipmen, stated the case and asked if he might grant the permission. The com. was game and said all right. So all that remains is for you two to go to the O.C. and make your request in person. Scat! Get in motion! Start! I'll wait here until I hear that you've put it through."

"Of course, Joyce, you're not putting up a joke on us?" demanded Darrin, looking keenly at the Navy quarter-back.

"On my word I'm not."

"Come on, Danny boy," called Dave, starting, and Dalzell followed readily enough. They entered the office of the O. C., saluted and stated their case.

"It is, of course, a somewhat unusual request to grant for the evening," replied Lieutenant-Commander Denham. "However, I can grant it if you will both assure me that you will take extreme pains to keep out of trouble of any kind, and that you will not enter the theatre or any other resort that would be bad judgment for a midshipman to enter."

"As to that, sir," Darrin replied, "I long ago resolved not to take any chances whatever of breaking any disciplinary requirements that would bring me demerits. I am working hard to get through the academic requirements, sir, and I don't intend to pass the mental ordeals here and then find that I can't keep on as a midshipman just because I have too many demerits against me. I think, sir, you may feel assured I shall not allow myself to do anything that would bring me under discipline."

"Your resolution was and is a most excellent one, Mr. Darrin," replied the O.C. "Mr. Dalzell, do you share Mr. Darrin's determination as to keeping out of trouble in Annapolis this evening?"

"Emphatically, sir."

"Then the desired permission is granted. You will enter proper report as to the time of leaving and returning."

Thanking the O.C. and saluting, Dave and Dan hastened back to Joyce.

"Not so difficult, was it?" demanded the Navy quarter-back.

"It was a whole lot better than planning to French the trip," retorted Darrin. "Now, we shall leave here to-night feeling perfectly safe as to our place on the pap."

"Pap" is the sheet on which the day's report of midshipmen conduct is kept.

"I'll admit that caution is sometimes worth while," laughed Joyce.

Soon after the call for supper formation sounded. The meal hour was a merry one that evening. The afternoon's game was naturally the main subject for conversation.

Dave naturally came in for much praise for the way he had saved the Navy game, but this flattery bored him. Darrin did not in the least imagine that he was a wonder on the gridiron. In fact, the game being past and won, he did not take any further interest in it. Such thought as he now gave to football concerned the games still to come.

Immediately after the meal the three midshipmen reported their departure into Annapolis. Then they went to the main gate, passed through and strolled on up Maryland Avenue into State Circle.

"I'm sorry we promised not to go to the theatre," murmured Midshipman Joyce.

"I'm not," retorted Dave. "Without that promise we wouldn't have secured the leave."

"But what are we going to do," demanded the dissatisfied one, "now that we are outside the grounds?"

"We can't do much, except what we came out to do," Dave reminded Joyce. "We can just walk about and stretch our legs, look in at a few store windows and make a few trifling purchases that won't exhaust our small store of pocket money."

"Exciting prospect!" remarked Joyce.

"Well, what ails you?" demanded Dalzell with unusual quietness. "What do you want to do? Something that will get us into big trouble with the O.C. and the com.?"

"Joyce can't tell you what he longs for, for he doesn't know himself," explained Dave.

"But I know. He wants to do something irregular; anything that is slightly in breach of the regulations—something that will get him hauled up before the O.C. and the pap."

"You're a wonderful guesser," laughed Joyce. "Well, I'll admit that I'm simply restless, and that anything that will stir my blood and my liver will fill the bill. I'm afraid I'm so depraved to-night that even a street-fight wouldn't go against the grain."

"You'd better forget it," advised Darrin quietly. "It's a dangerous frame of mind for a future officer and gentleman, who must acquire control over himself before he can be fit to command men."

"You talk like a padre!" (chaplain) uttered Joyce in disgust "Can't you forget, for one evening, that you're a midshipman?"

"No; I don't want to," Dave returned quietly.

"Prig!" uttered Joyce again, and this time he did not take the pains to speak under his breath. But Darrin only smiled indulgently.

By way of simple dissipation the three midshipmen went to a drug store, enjoying themselves with ice cream sodas. Soon after they found themselves in a Main Street bookstore, looking over post cards. They could, however, find no new ones, and so left without buying.

"And there's the theatre right over there!" sighed Joyce.

"It would be against our word as midshipmen and gentlemen to visit it," Dave urged. "Come on, Joyce; we'll turn into one of the very quiet side streets and stroll along. Then we'll be out of temptation."

Accordingly they went to one of the all but deserted side streets of the better sort.

"There's a comrade ahead of us," said Dave in an undertone presently, as he made out the uniform half a block away.

Hardly had he spoken when a door opened and a young man in evening clothes came lightly down the steps. At once the unknown midshipman wheeled and sprang at the young civilian. There was a swift interchange of blows, over almost as soon as it started, for the unknown midshipman speedily knocked down the man he had assaulted. Nor did the civilian get up at once. Instead, he bawled lustily for help.

Joyce made a move to spring forward, but Dave caught him by the arm.

"Don't get forward, Joyce. If you do, you'll probably recognize the midshipman. Then you'll have to report his name."

Answering the calls for help five other young men ran out of the same house. The midshipman disdained to flee and stood his ground.

"We'll teach you!" snarled one of the newly arrived civilians, raising his cane as though to bring it down on the midshipman's shoulders.

The midshipman, like a flash, wrenched the cane from the other's hands and began to lay it lustily about him. The whole crowd, therefore, including the young man who had first been knocked down, joined in the attack.

"That's too much like cowardice, and we're bound to go to the rescue of a comrade!" muttered Dave Darrin, his eyes blazing. "Come on, fellows—and be sure not to recognize that comrade!"

In a moment the fight was somewhat more equal. Darrin, Dalzell and Joyce were all accomplished and disciplined boxers. They closed with the crowd around the midshipman.

Crack! thump! bump! Midshipman blows landed heavily and rapidly. The civilians were soon worsted and scattered.

"Whoever you are, comrade," muttered Dave in a low tone, wheeling the unknown midshipman around, "don't look our way and don't give us any chance to recognize you. Scoot!"

"Po-o-o-lice!" lustily yelled one of the crowd of defeated civilians.

XIII. HEPSON IS "SOME WILD"

"Police!" bawled others of the civilians, taking up the hue and cry.

That spelled serious trouble if Dave and his friends should tarry there. Midshipmen are in no sense free from arrest by the civil authorities, and it is likely to fare hard with Uncle Sam's young sailors if they are taken in by the civil authorities.

"Come along," muttered Darrin, leading the way. He did not run, but he certainly walked fast, and in a direction away from Main Street. His two companions followed him. The "unknown midshipman," taking Darrin's shrewd hint, had already made himself invisible.

After the prompt drubbing they had received, not one of the young civilians felt any desire to follow these husky midshipmen.

The police in Annapolis are few in number, and so do not always hear a street summons. In this instance Dave and his friends turned a corner and were soon away from the scene of the late affair.

"Now, I hope you've had all the excitement you want, Joyce," Dave remarked dryly.

"Like most good things, it didn't last long," complained Joyce.

"Oh, it isn't over yet, by any means. We've the O.C. and the com. to face," grumbled Darrin. "But we couldn't stand by and see one of our own punched by a whole gang."

"Of course we couldn't, but why fuss about the com, and his satellite, the O.C.? They'll never hear of this."

"I think there's a big chance that we shall hear of it," retorted Dave. "That's why I advised you not to look at the unknown midshipman closely enough to be able to recognize him in the dark."

"I don't know who he was," admitted Dan candidly.

"Nor do I," supplemented Joyce.

"Then, whoever he is, the chap stands little chance of being caught unless he voluntarily announces himself."

Presumably the police didn't answer the hail of the young civilians. At any rate, Darrin and his friends heard nothing more of the matter while in town.

But when they returned to Bancroft Hall the trio were met by this announcement:

"The officer in charge wishes to see you in his office."

"It's coming," warned Dave, as he and his companions turned and went in to report themselves.

"There has been a disturbance in Annapolis," stated Lieutenant-Commander Denham. "Mr. Darrin, were you in it?"

"I was in one kind of disturbance, sir," Darrin answered at once.

"Of what kind?"

"Several civilians attacked a man in a midshipman's uniform. I went to his aid."

"And attacked some civilians?"

"Yes, sir."

"Mr. Dalzell, Mr. Joyce, did you also take part in that affair?" inquired the O.C.

"Yes, sir," answered both midshipmen.

"For what reason?"

"Because, sir," answered Joyce, "several civilians pounced upon one man who wore a midshipman's uniform."

"And you three rushed in and pounded some civilians?" asked the O.C. coolly.

"I'm afraid we did, sir," answered Dave, who found the lieutenant-commander's gaze turned on him.

"Who was that other midshipman, Mr. Darrin?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Didn't you recognize him when you went to his aid?"

"I did not, sir."

"Did either of you gentlemen recognize the midshipman to whose rescue you rushed?"

Dan and Joyce replied in the negative.

"Tell me the circumstances of the attack, Mr. Darrin. Take pains to make your statement so exact that you will not have to amend the statement afterwards."

Darrin told the affair as it had happened.

"Hm! And none of you recognized the fourth midshipman?" pursued the O.C. "That, in itself, was strange, Mr. Darrin, was there any agreement among you three that you would not recognize your comrade?"

"Not exactly an agreement, sir," Dave confessed candidly. "At the distance that we were from the scene before we rushed in the darkness prevented our seeing the face of the unknown midshipman. As we started forward, I will admit that I warned Mr. Dalzell and Mr. Joyce not to look at the other midshipman's face."

"So that you might answer truthfully, if asked, that you did not know the man?"

"Yes, sir; that was my reason for so advising Mr. Dalzell and Mr. Joyce."

"That was what might be termed extraordinary foresight, Mr. Darrin," remarked Lieutenant-Commander Denham ironically.

"Thank you, sir," answered Dave as innocently as though he did not understand that he had just been rebuked. The O.C. frowned.

"Mr. Darrin, since I assume you to have been the ringleader of your trio, did you give that wonderful advice to your companions just so that you might be able to refuse any aid to the Naval Academy authorities in running this matter to the ground?"

"Yes, sir," Dave answered very frankly.

"You wished, then," demanded the O.C. sternly, "to hinder the course of justice at the Naval Academy?"

"It, at least, sir, did not strike me at the time quite in that light."

"Yet something was happening on the streets of Annapolis that you knew would be very thoroughly investigated if it were reported here, and so you took precautions against being able to aid the authorities in the investigation?"

"I admit the truth of that, sir."

"Mr. Darrin, why did you feel called upon to try to defeat the investigation that you foresaw, and which is now under way?"

"Because, sir, it is contrary to the spirit of the brigade of midshipmen to carry tales against each other. I did not care to act contrary to that spirit."

"Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that you did not dare," observed the O.C. half sneeringly.

"That way of stating it would be true, sir. I do not care to turn informer against my comrades."

"Yet you think you possess the courage to become one of our fighting officers in the future, if the need arises?

"Of my courage as a fighting man, sir, I am unable to form any opinion until that courage has been properly tested."

"But you are afraid to inform the authorities of the identity of comrades who commit serious offenses?"

"As it is contrary to the spirit of the brigade, sir, I would be more afraid of my own contempt than of any other punishment."

Lieutenant-Commander Denham appeared to lose some of his patience presently.

"I wonder," he remarked brusquely, "why you midshipmen cannot learn to accept some of your sense of honor from the officers who have seen so much more service than you. I wonder why you will go on formulating your own canons of honor, even when such beliefs sometimes result in the dismissal of midshipmen from the service."

The three midshipmen, not being questioned, remained silent.

"And so not one of you has the slightest idea of the original nature of the quarrel in which you so readily took part? And none of you has any idea of the identity of the fourth midshipman concerned in this evening's work?"

"I have not, sir," replied Midshipmen Darrin, Dalzell and Joyce in one breath.

"Very good, gentlemen. The matter will be investigated further. You will go to your quarters and remain there. You will take part in the meal formations, but in no drills or recitations until you are further advised. And you will not leave Bancroft Hall without direct orders from competent authority."

The three midshipmen saluted, turned and left the office, going to their own rooms.

"Wow!" muttered Dan as soon as the chums had closed their door on themselves.

"We shall surely have enough to think of," smiled Dave wearily.

"Oh, aye!" agreed Dalzell.

"Oh, well, if we're going to skip some recitations we'll need all the more study," sighed Dave, seating himself at his study table and drawing his books toward him.

But he was not permitted to study long in peace. Word of the affair had spread, and Hepson presented himself at Darrin's quarters in great consternation.

"Great!" mocked Hepson. "Just when we've discovered that the Navy has a dub team without you two, or next door to one, then you two go and get ordered to quarters. You'll not turn out with us Monday; you may not practice with us through the week or play in our next game. Fine!"

"Perhaps," grinned Dan, "if we two are so important to Navy prestige as you appear to imagine, we shall not be kept long from the gridiron."

"Dalzell," retorted Hepson impatiently, "you're a second classman, and you've been here long enough to know that no considerations of discipline will be made to stand aside in order that the Navy may have a better athletic team of any kind. Nothing here is sacrificed to athletics, and you surely must know it."

"Then I guess we're dished," confessed Dalzell mournfully.

"A fine way for you two to go and use the football squad! Great!" insisted Hepson bitterly.

"Had you been with us, Hepson, you'd have done just as we did. I know that," Dave replied.

"Well, you are calling me a bit," agreed Hepson. "After all, I don't know just what it was that got you both into this scrape. Some kind of fight, or row, in town, was all I heard."

"Then I'll tell you about it," Darrin went on quietly.

"Well, I really don't see how you could have helped it," agreed Midshipman Hepson after he had listened. "But that doesn't save us any. We're out our two best line players and our quarter-back."

"Oh, we'll be restored to the squad as soon as the sentence has been pronounced," predicted Dan Dalzell.

"Even if you're bounced out of the Naval Academy?" demanded Hepson savagely.

"It—it won't be as bad as that," faltered Dan.

"Perhaps not," agreed Hepson, "though you must understand that the charge of assaulting civilians is not a light matter. You can be dismissed for it, you know."

"Yes," nodded Dave Darrin, and then Danny boy went several shades less ruddy.

"Here's hoping for the best," grumbled Hepson, holding out his hand to each in turn. "And, for the love of Mike, keep out of all further trouble! Don't look cross-eyed—once—until after November!"

XIV. TWO SIDES OF A STORY

One circumstance puzzled all of the midshipmen who first heard of the affair. The fourth, and unknown, midshipman, who had waited outside of the house and assaulted the first civilian, must have known the latter or it was not likely that he would have committed the assault. That being the case, it was just likely that the civilian knew and had recognized the unknown midshipman who had knocked him down. Such an attack must have followed some prior dispute.

Then, since the civilians had undoubtedly made complaint to the Naval Academy authorities, how had they been able to get out of supplying the name of the midshipman unknown to Dave and his friends?

Right after breakfast the next morning Dave Darrin and his friends of the evening before were summoned before the commandant of midshipmen. By that officer they were questioned very rigidly, but they had nothing to add to their statement of the night before. They were therefore ordered back to their quarters, with permission only to attend chapel that forenoon.

Just after chapel, however, the fourth midshipman discovered himself to the officer in charge. He was Midshipman Totten, of fourth class.

Totten admitted that it was he who had waited outside of the house in question, and who had knocked down the civilian. He further gave the name of that civilian, who was the son of one of the prominent officials of the state government.

"Why did you strike him, Mr. Totten?" demanded the officer in charge.

"Because, sir, the fellow had grossly insulted a young lady whom I felt bound to avenge."

"Who is the young lady?"

"Am I obliged, sir, to give her name in the matter?"

"It will be better, Mr. Totten. You may be sure that your statement will be treated with all the consideration and confidence possible."

Totten thereupon explained that the young woman in question was his cousin. Totten, who was an orphan, had been brought up by an aunt who had but one child of her own, the young woman in question. When Totten had won an appointment to the Naval Academy, the aunt and cousin had decided to move to Annapolis sooner than have their little family broken up.

"How did you come to be outside the Academy grounds last evening, Mr. Totten? You were not on leave to go outside."

"I took the chances and Frenched it, sir," confessed Totten candidly. "I knew that I could not get leave, and so did not ask it. But I felt that the fellow had to be punished, no matter at what hazard to myself."

"Then you considered the avenging of the insult to your cousin as being a matter of greater importance than your future career in the Navy?"

Midshipman Totten paled, but he answered bravely:

"Yes, sir; and at the same time a Naval career means nearly everything in the world to me."

Lieutenant-Commander Morrill, the new officer in charge, felt that it was difficult to rebuke a future Naval officer for defending from insult a woman dear to him.

"I shall have to pass this matter on to the commandant of midshipmen," decided the O.C. "Mr. Totten, you will go to your quarters and remain there, until further orders, save only for meal formations."

"Very good, sir," replied the fourth classman saluting.

"That is all, Mr. Totten."

"Very good, sir."

Within half an hour, Dave, Dan and Joyce knew that the unknown midshipman had come forward and announced himself, but they did not hear the story of the reason back of Totten's attack. They heard, however, that Totten had not heard of their predicament until just after chapel call.

The commandant of midshipmen sent for Mr. Totten. That official, however, after hearing the story, felt that the matter was one for the superintendent. The superintendent did not send for Totten and question him, but sent, instead, for the civilians who had lodged the complaint the evening before. He sent also for young Crane the man Totten had named, and who had not been among the complainants of the evening before.

"Mr. Crane," announced the superintendent, "you know, of course, the name of the midshipman who assaulted and knocked you down before the other three midshipmen interfered in the matter?"

"Er—er—possibly I do," confessed Crane, reddening.

"Mr. Crane, if you wish us to deal frankly with you, you must accord the same treatment to the officials of the Naval Academy," replied the superintendent coldly.

"I—I—personally do not desire to press any complaint," continued young Crane. "I am sorry that my friends took such a step."

"Then you consider, Mr. Crane," pressed the superintendent, "that the knock-down blow you received from a midshipman was in the nature of a merited punishment?"

"I—I won't say that," cried Crane quickly. "No, sir! I won't admit it!"

"Then, as we know that Midshipman Totten was your assailant," continued the superintendent, "we shall have to place that young man on trial. We shall be obliged to summon you as a witness at that trial, Mr. Crane."

"But I have no intention, sir, of appearing as a witness," blustered that young man.

"Mr. Crane, you can have no choice in the matter. If we summon you, you can be brought here from any part of the United States."

"I—I—can't the matter be dropped, sir?" urged the young man anxiously.

"Not unless you confess yourself in the wrong, and exonerate Mr. Totten. In any other event the case will have to come to trial before a court-martial, and you, Mr. Crane, since we are certain that you possess material evidence, will be forced to appear as a witness."

Mr. Crane looked almost as uncomfortable as he felt.

"Mr. Totten," continued the superintendent, "states that you grossly insulted his cousin, a young woman, and that he met you on purpose to avenge that insult."

"There—there—was some trouble about a young woman," admitted Crane. "But I am a gentleman, sir."

"I am not expected to decide the last question that you have raised," replied the superintendent dryly. "All that concerns me in the matter is whether you exonerate Mr. Totten, or whether you do not. If you do not, the midshipman must state his case fully before a court-martial, at which you will be one of the important witnesses."

"I exonerate Mr. Totten," replied Crane in a very low tone.

"Do you exonerate him completely?" "Ye-es, sir."

"Then Mr. Totten's offense will be reduced to one or two simple breaches of discipline," went on the superintendent.

"But see here, sir," interposed one of the other young men, "are your midshipmen to be allowed to go about pounding whom they like? Are they to be swashbucklers and bullies?"

"Very decidedly not, sir," replied the superintendent in a voice almost thunderous. "The midshipmen of the United States Naval Academy must conduct themselves as gentlemen at all times."

"Did they do that," urged the last speaker, "when they sailed into us as they did?"

"Why did your friends go to the assistance of Mr. Crane?" asked the superintendent.

"Be—because," stammered the spokesman, "your midshipman had knocked Crane down and was misusing him."

"Did you, the friends of Mr. Crane, consider it the act of gentlemen for several to rush in and attack one man?"

That left the callers rather breathless.

"Now, as to our other three midshipmen," pursued the superintendent, "at most they only rushed in to see fair play. They did not make a hostile move until they saw a whole crowd of you attacking one midshipman. Gentlemen, I am quite ready to leave it to a jury of any intelligent citizens as to whether the offending midshipmen or yourselves displayed the more gallantry and honor. For you have all admitted doing something that is not consistent with the highest standards of a gentleman, while our accused midshipmen have no such reproach against them."

"Then your midshipmen are to get off, and to be encouraged to repeat such conduct?" demanded the spokesman of the Crane party.

"No. On the contrary, they will be punished for whatever breaches of Naval discipline they have committed. Considering what you gentlemen have admitted, however, I do not believe you would have any standing as witnesses before a court-martial. I therefore advise you all to drop your complaint. Yet if you insist on a complaint, then I will see to it that Midshipman Totten is brought to trial."

Crane and his associates felt, very quickly and keenly, that they would cut but sorry figures in such a trial. They therefore begged to withdraw their former complaint. When they had departed the superintendent smiled at his reflection in the glass opposite.

Before supper all of the midshipmen involved knew their fate. They were restored to full liberty. Darrin, Dalzell and Joyce were again rebuked for having taken such elaborate pains to escape recognizing Totten at the time of the encounter. Beyond the lecture by the commandant of midshipmen, each of the trio was further punished by the imposition of ten demerits.

In Frenching and in taking justice into his own hands Midshipman Totten was held to have erred. However, the nature of his grievance and the fact that he was only a new fourth classman were taken into consideration. For Frenching he was punished with twenty-five demerits; for the assault on a civilian, considering all the circumstances, he was let off with ten additional demerits.

Yet, somehow, all of the midshipmen involved felt their punishment very lightly. They could not escape the conviction that the Naval Academy authorities did not regard them as especially guilty offenders.

"We've got you back on the gridiron, at any rate," exclaimed Hepson exultantly. "We of the football squad wish that we might be permitted to divide your demerits up among ourselves."

"You might suggest that little point to the commandant of midshipmen," grinned Dan.

"And get jolly well trounced for our impudence," grimaced Midshipman Hepson. "No, thank you; though you criminals have our utmost sympathy, we will let matters rest where they are at present. Only a fool tries to change well enough into worse."

XV. THE NAVY GOAT WEEPS

"Did you hear that Ella had a bad tumble down three stories?" asked Midshipman Dan.

"Ella who?" questioned Dave, looking up.

"Elevator!" grinned Dalzell.

"Ugh!" grunted Dave disgustedly. "Say, do you know how that would strike the com.?"

"No," replied Dan innocently, looking away. "How would it strike him?"

"Hard!" Dave responded. Slam! The somewhat heavy book that Darrin, aimed went straight to the mark, landing against Dan's nearer ear with all the force of a sound boxing.

"I see you appreciate a good joke," muttered Dalzell grimly.

"Yes," Dave admitted. "Do you?"

"When I tell you another," growled Dan, "I'll be holding an axe hidden behind my back."

"Say, did I show you that letter of Dick's?" Dave asked, looking up presently.

"Appendix?" inquired Dan suspiciously.

"Oh, stow all that, little boy!" retorted Dave. "No; did I tell you that I had a letter from Dick Prescott?"

"I think you mentioned something of the sort, last winter," Dalzell admitted still suspicious.

"No; I got one this morning from good old Dick," Darrin went on.

"All right," Dan agreed. "What's the answer?"

"I haven't had time to read it yet," Darrin responded. "But here's the letter. Maybe you'd like to look it over."

Across the study table Dan Dalzell received the envelope and its enclosure rather gingerly. Dan didn't like to be caught "biting" at a "sell," and he still expected some trick from his roommate.

It was, however, a letter written in Dick Prescott's well-remembered handwriting.

"I understand that you are both on the Navy team, and that you made good in the first game," wrote the West Point cadet. "I hope you'll both stay in to the finish, and improve with every game. Greg and I are plugging hard at the game in the little time that the West Point routine allows us for practice. From what I have heard of your game, I think it likely that you and good, but impish old Dan, are playing against the very position that Greg and I hope to hold in the annual Army-Navy game. Won't it be great?"

"Yes, it will be great, all right, if the Navy contrives to win," Dan muttered, looking up at his chum.

"Either the Army or Navy must lose," replied Dave quietly.

"And just think!" Cadet Dick Prescott's letter ran on. "When we meet, lined up for battle on Franklin Field, Philadelphia, it will be the first time we four have met since we wound up the good old High School days at Gridley. It seems an age to Greg and me. I wonder if the time seems as long to you two?"

"It seems to me," remarked Dan, glancing across at his chum, "that you and I, David, little giant, have been here at Annapolis almost ever since we first donned trousers to please the family."

"It is a long time back to Gridley days," assented Darrin.

Then Dan went on reading.

"Of course you and Dan are bound that the Navy shall win this year," Dick had written. "As for Greg and me, we are equally determined that the Army shall win. As if the resolutions on either side had much of anything to do with it! It will seem strange for us four, divided between the two sides, to be fighting frantically for the victory. However, if Greg and I go up against you two on the gridiron we won't show you any mercy, and we know that we shall receive none from you. Each man must do all that's possibly in him for the glory of his own side of the United Service! Here's to the better eleven—Army or Navy!"

"I'll bet Dick and Greg will give us all the tussle they know how, if they get near us in the fight," nodded Dan, passing the letter back.

"Well, they're bound to, aren't they?" demanded Darrin. "And now, Danny boy, we simply must stow all gab and get busy with our lessons. We've a recitation between now and the afternoon practice."

"And the game, to-morrow!" breathed Midshipman Dalzell fervently.

The morrow's game was to be against the University of Pennsylvania eleven. The opposition team being an unusually good one that year, the Navy's gridiron pets were preparing to strain every nerve in the hope of victory.

In that afternoon's practice Dave and Dan showed up better than ever. Farley and Page, too, were coming along splendidly, while Midshipman Joyce was proving himself all but a joy to exacting Hepson.

But when the morrow came U.P. carried away the game to the tune of five to nothing, and the Navy goat wept. Dave and Dan made several brilliant plays, but the Navy average both of size and skill was somewhat below that of the older, bigger college men.

Other games followed fast now, and the Navy eleven and its subs. had plenty of work cut out for them. Up to the time of the Army-Navy game, the middies had a bright slate of eighty per cent. of victories. Dave and Dan had the pleasure of reading, in the "Army and Navy Journal," that they were considered the strongest men on the left flank that the Navy had been, able to show in ten years.

"When we go up against the Army," Hepson informed Dave and Dan, "I don't know whether you'll play at left or right. It will all depend on where the Army puts Prescott and Holmes. Friends of ours who have watched the play at West Point tell me that Prescott and Holmes are armored terrors on the gridiron."

"They are, if they've gone forward in the game, instead of backward," Darrin replied honestly.

"But you and Dalzell can hold 'em, can't you?" demanded Hepson anxiously.

"I don't dare brag," Dave answered. "The truth, if anything, is that Danny boy and I can hardly hope to hold the Army pair back. You see, Hep, I know Prescott and Holmes pretty well, from the fact that we played together on the same High School eleven for two years. Prescott, in fact, was the boy who trained us all."

"Well, don't let the Navy fellows get the idea that you're afraid of that Army pair," begged Hepson. "It might get our men discouraged. Darry, we simply must wipe up the field with the Army! There isn't—there can't be any such word as 'defeat' for us."

As the time drew near for the greatest of all annual games the instructors at the Naval Academy began to record lower marks for nearly all of the men in the daily recitations. The midshipmen simply couldn't keep their minds from wandering to the gridiron. It meant so much—to beat the Army!

Then quickly enough the feverish day came. Early in the forenoon the entire brigade of midshipmen, in uniform, was marched into town behind the Naval Academy band. Scores of Navy officers, with their ladies, went along. A lot of the townspeople followed in the big rush to Odenton and Baltimore. From there two sections of a special train conveyed the Annapolis host to Philadelphia.

Franklin Field was reached, and one of the most brilliant athletic and social events of the year was on.

We shall not attempt to follow the course of the game here. The Navy eleven hurled itself into the fray with undying heroism, but the Army won the great game. It is all told in the third volume of "The West Point Series," entitled "Dick Presscott's Third Year At West Point." In that volume, too, is described the meeting of the old-time High School chums, their first meeting since the old-time days back in the tome town of Gridley.

The game was over at last. The Navy was crestfallen, though not a sign of sorrow or humiliation showed in the jaunty step of the men of the brigade as they marched back to the railway station and took the train for the first stage of the journey home—the run between Philadelphia and Baltimore.

On the train Hepson hunted up Dave and Dan.

"You did your best, fellows, I know, that," murmured the defeated football captain. "And you gave me, in advance, a fair estimate of that Army pair, Prescott and Holmes. Say, but they're a pair of terrors! If we had that pair on the Navy eleven, along with you two, no team that the Army ever yet sent out could beat us. But we made a strong fight, at any rate. All of our friends say that."

"I'm glad I didn't do any bragging in advance," Darrin smiled wistfully. "We were fairly eaten up, Hep."

"Oh, well, we'll hope for better luck next year, with the Navy under some other captain. Maybe you'll be captain next year, Darry."

"I don't want to be," Dave answered, with a shake of his head. "If you couldn't carry our team to victory I don't dare try."

"Then I'll be captain—if I'm asked," promised Dan, with the grin that always lurked close to the surface of his face. While hundreds of midshipmen felt desperately blue on the homeward journey, Dalzell had already nearly forgotten his disappointment.

"You'll never be asked," predicted Hepson good-humoredly. "Danny boy, the trouble with you would be that the fellows would never know when you were in earnest. As captain of the eleven, you might start to give an order, and then nothing but a pun would come forth. You're too full of mischief to win victories."

"I hope that won't be true if I ever have the luck to command a battleship in war time," sighed Dalzell, becoming serious for four or five seconds. Then he bent forward and dropped a cold nickel inside of Joyce's collar. The cold coin coursed down Joyce's spine? causing that tired and discouraged midshipman to jump up with a yell.

"Why does the com. ever allow that five-year-old imp to travel with men?" grunted Joyce disgustedly, as he sat down again and now realized that the nickel was under him next to the skin.

"Danny boy," groaned Dave, "will you ever grow up? Why do you go on making a pest of yourself?"

"Why, the fellows need some cheering up, don't they?" Dan inquired.

"If you don't look out, Danny boy, you'll rouse them to such a pitch of cheerfulness that they'll raise one of the car windows and drop you outside for sheer joy."

The joy that had been manifest in Annapolis that morning was utterly stilled when the brigade reached the home town once more. True, the band played as a matter of duty, but as the midshipmen marched down Maryland Avenue in brigade formation they passed many a heap of faggots and many a tar-barrel that had been placed there by the boys of the town to kindle into bonfires with which to welcome the returning victors. But to-night the faggot-piles and the tar-barrels lay unlighted. In the dark this material for bonfires that never were lighted looked like so many spectral reminders of their recent defeat.

It hurt! It always hurts—either the cadets or the midshipmen—to lose the Army-Navy game.

Once back at quarters in Bancroft Hall, it seemed to many of the midshipmen as though it would have been a relief to have to go to study tables to work. Yet, since no work was actually required on this night, none was done.

Midshipmen wandered about in their own rooms and visited. The more they realized the defeat, the bluer they became. From some rooms came sounds of laughter, but it was hollow.

Farley got out a banjo, breaking into a lively darky reel. Yet, somehow, the sound was mournful.

"Please stop that dirge and play something cheerful!" begged the voice of a passing midshipman.

"Put the lyre away, Farl," advised Page. "Nothing sounds happy to-night."

"We love to sing and dance. We're happy all the day—ha, ha!" wailed Dan Dalzell. He wasn't so very blue himself, but he was trying to keep in sympathy with the general tone of feeling.

"Well, Hep, you made as good a showing, after all, as could be expected with a dub team," spoke Joyce consolingly, when they met in a corridor.

"It wasn't a dub team," retorted Hepson dismally. "The eleven was all right. The only trouble lay in having a dub for a captain."

It was a relief to hundreds that night when taps sounded at last, and the master switch turned off the lights in midshipmen quarters. At least the young men were healthy and did not waste hours in wooing sleep and forgetfulness.

Then Sunday morning came, and the football season was over until the next year.

"From now on it's going to be like starting life all over again, after a fire," was the way Dan put it that Sunday morning, in an effort to make some of his comrades feel that all was not lost.

Had Dan been able to foresee events which he and Dave must soon encounter, even that grinning midshipman wouldn't have been happy.

XVI. THE MAN WITH A SCOWL ON TAP

"I wish we lived in Annapolis, that we might be here at every hop!" sighed Belle Meade, as the waltz finished and she and Dave, flushed and happy, sought seats at the side of the ballroom.

They had hardly seated themselves when they were joined by Dan and Laura Bentley.

"I was just saying, Laura," Belle went on, "that it would be splendid if we lived here all through the winter. Then we'd have a chance to come to every hop."

"Wouldn't we want to put in a part of the winter near West Point?" asked Miss Bentley, smiling, though with a wistful look in her eyes.

"Perhaps that would be fairer, to you," Belle agreed.

"You'd soon get tired of the hops," ventured Dave.

"Can one ever weary of dancing?" Belle demanded. "Well, perhaps one might, though never on the small amount that has come to me so far in life. And this Navy orchestra plays so divinely!"

"Our number's next, I believe, ladies," called Midshipman Farley, as he and Page came up, eager for their chances with these two very charming belles of the hop.

"Hang you, Farl!" muttered Dave.

"That's just like Darrin, Miss Meade," laughed Farley. "He's always a monopolist at heart. Though in this instance I am far from wondering at his desire to be."

It was the first hop after the semi-annual exams. A host of fourth classmen and some from the upper classes had been dropped immediately after the examinations, but Dave and Dan and all their more intimate friends in the brigade had pulled through. Darrin and Dalzell had come out of the ordeal with the highest markings they had yet achieved at the Naval Academy.

Mrs. Meade had come down to Annapolis to chaperon Belle and Laura, but this evening Mrs. Meade was chatting with a middle-aged Naval officer and so did not see much of the young people.

As the music struck up, Farley and Page claimed consideration, Dave and Dan were left without partners.

"Nothing more doing for two dances, David, little giant," murmured Midshipman Dalzell. "Suppose we slip into our overcoats and walk around outside."

"I'd rather," assented Darrin. "It's dull in here when a fellow isn't dancing."

It was a night of unusually light attendance on the part of the fair sex, with a rather larger attendance than usual of midshipmen, for which reason Dave found many other midshipmen outside, strolling up and down.

"What we need, fellows," called Joyce, coming up to the chums, "is a new regulation that no midshipman may attend a hop unless he drags a femme."

"That would have shut you out of every hop so far this year," laughed Dave.

"I know it," Joyce admitted. "But I'm going to cut all hops after this, unless some real queen will favor me as her escort and agree to dance at least half the numbers with me. I've had only two dances this evening. It's too tame. I'm going back to Bancroft Hall and stand ready to turn in at the first signal. What's the use of hanging around at a hop when there's only one girl to every five fellows?"

"You have suffered the just fate of the free lance," remarked Dan Dalzell virtuously. "As for me, I never think of attending a hop unless I squire some femme thither."

"There used to be girls enough last year," complained Joyce. "Well, I'm off for home and bed."

"We'll stroll along up with you," proposed Darrin.

"No girls for you, either?"

"Not for two numbers. Then we return to the young ladies that we escorted here."

"Just to think," grunted Joyce, sniffing in the salt air that reached them from the waterfront, "a good deal more than a year more here before we get regularly at sea."

"It seems as though we'd been here a long time," sighed Dave. "But I don't suppose there was ever a midshipman yet who didn't long to get away from Annapolis and into the real, permanent life on the wave. A West Point man must feel some of the same longing."

"But he's on the land at West Point," objected Joyce, "and he's still on land after he graduates and goes to some post. The Army cadet has no such glorious future to look forward to as has a midshipman."

"Hello, here's Jet," called Dave as a midshipman enveloped in his overcoat approached them. "Going to the hop, Jet?"

"Will you do me a great favor?" asked Midshipman Jetson.

"Certainly, if possible," agreed Dave cordially.

"Then mind your own business," snapped the other midshipman.

Darrin, who had made it a point to forget the brief unpleasantness of the football season, received this rebuke with about the same feelings that a slap in the face would have given him.

The sulky midshipman had stepped past the trio, but Dave, after swallowing hard, wheeled about and hailed:

"Hold on, there, Mr. Jetson!"

"Well?" demanded Jetson, halting and looking back.

"I don't like your tone, sir."

"And I don't like your face, sir," retorted Jetson. "Nor your cheek, either, for that matter."

"I tried to treat you pleasantly," Dave went on, hurt and offended.

"Oh! It required an effort, did it?" sneered Jetson.

"Something may have happened that I don't know anything about," Darrin continued. "It may be that you have some real reason for treating me as you have just done. If you have any good reason I wish you'd tell me, for in that case I must have done something that put me in wrong. If that's the case, I want to make amends."

"Oh—bosh!" grumbled the other midshipman.

"Come on, now!" urged Dave. "Be a man!"

"Then you imply that I am not?" demanded Jetson aggressively.

"Not necessarily," Dave contended. "I just want to make sure, in my own mind, and I should think you'd be similarly interested."

"If you want to insult me, Mr. Darrin," flared back Jetson, "I'll remain here long enough to hear you and to arrange for resenting the insult. Otherwise—"

"Well?" insisted Dave quietly, though his anger was rising. "Otherwise?"

"Otherwise," retorted Midshipman Jetson, "I'll pursue my way and seek company that pleases me better."

"Look out, Jet, old hot-plate!" laughed Joyce. "You'll soon be insulting all three of us."

"I don't intend to," Jetson rejoined quickly. "My quarrel concerns only Mr. Darrin."

"Oho!" murmured Dave. "There is a quarrel, then?"

"If you choose to pick one."

"But I don't, Mr. Jetson. Quarreling is out of my line. If I've done you any harm or any injustice I'm ready to make good by apologies and otherwise. And, if I haven't wronged you in any way, you should be equally manly and apologize for your treatment of me just now."

"Oh, bosh!" snapped Mr. Jetson once more.

"This is none of my quarrel," interposed Midshipman Joyce, "and I'm not intentionally a promoter of hard feeling. But it seems to me, Jet, that Darry has spoken as fairly as any fellow could. Now, it seems to me that it's up to you to be equally manly."

"So you, too, are asserting that I'm not manly," bristled Mr. Jetson haughtily. "You all seem bound to force trouble on me to-night."

"Not I, then," retorted Joyce, his spirit rising. "I'm finding myself forced to the belief that you're hardly worth having trouble with."

Jetson clenched his fists, taking a step forward, his dark eyes flashing. Then he halted, as though implying that he was not thus easily to be driven into forgetting himself.

"Come along, fellows," urged Dan Dalzell in a low voice. "Mr. Jetson seems to have no intention either of explaining or of affording other satisfaction."

"Hold on, Mr. Jetson, you needn't answer him," interposed Darrin quickly, as Jetson opened his mouth. "First of all this affair seems to concern me. You've intimated that I'm no friend of yours and not worthy to be ranked as such. Now, I ask you, fairly and flatly, what has brought your mind to this pitch? What have I done, or what haven't I done?"

"Search your conscience," jeered Jetson.

"I've been doing so ever since this foolish conversation started, and I haven't found the answer yet. All I recall, Jetson, is that, at the outset of my football practice, there was some little unpleasantness between us. You injured me, twice, in practice play, and I admit that I was somewhat angry about it at the time. But you gave your word that you hadn't intended any tricks against me. I believed you to be a man of honor, and I accepted your word that you were innocent of evil intention against me. Having accepted your word, I held no further grudge in the matter, and I have as nearly forgotten the whole business as a man with a memory can."

"Then tell me why I didn't play on the football eleven?" flamed up Midshipman Jetson.

"Principally, I imagine, because Captain Hepson, after consultation with the coaches, didn't call you to the Navy eleven."

"And why didn't Hepson call me?" followed up Jetson, all his pent-up sulkiness boiling over now.

"I don't know, particularly. Probably, I imagine, for the same reason that he didn't call a lot of other men to the eleven—because he believed he could make a better choice."

"Darrin, you know well enough that you so influenced Hepson to keep me off the team!"

"Jetson, are you mad?"

"No; but I'm naturally angry."

"I give you my word that I didn't do anything to prevent your making the team."

"And you expect me, Mr. Darrin, to believe that?"

"If you decline to do so, it amounts to passing the lie. But I'll overlook that for a moment. Joyce, I think Hepson is not dancing at present. Will you return to the hop, and, if he is not dancing, will you bring him out here?"

"I don't want to see Hepson," cried Midshipman Jetson. "You're the only one I'm interested in in this matter, Mr. Darrin."

"You've virtually refused to accept my word."

"I do so refuse."

"Then you call me—"

"A liar, if you like!" snapped back Midshipman Jetson.

"Sir, do you realize—"

"I realize that you're still talking!" sneered Jetson.

"Then I won't talk any longer," replied Dave Darrin in a quiet but dangerous voice. "Since you refuse to listen even to Hepson—"

"Who's taking my name in vain?" demanded a laughing voice as a burly figure moved in between Dave and his enemy.

The new comer was Hepson, who had come upon the group unnoticed.

"Perhaps you're just in time, Hep," murmured Dave, fighting to cool down his temper. "I wanted you to prove—"

"Stop!" ejaculated Jetson angrily. In his extreme passion he threw all restraint and courtesy to the winds. "I wouldn't take the word of Hepson, or of any man in the entire brigade in this matter. Darrin has lied, and—"

"Step aside, Hep, please," urged Dave, giving the late football captain a gentle shove. "This matter can't go any further in words. Mr. Jetson, you have insulted me, and grossly. Are you capable of cooling down? Do you wish to retract?—to apologize?"

"Apologize to you—you—"

Whatever the word was, it didn't get out, for in the same instant Darrin cried warningly:

"Guard yourself!"

Midshipman Jetson threw up his hands, but Darrin's right fist landed across his offending mouth with such force as to fell the sulky midshipman flat to the earth.

XVII. AN AFFAIR OF SULKS

Having struck the blow, Midshipman Darrin stepped back, to give his opponent an unobstructed chance to rise to his feet.

"What's this all about?" demanded Midshipman Hepson wonderingly.

"It's gone too far for talk, now," replied Dan Dalzell. "Wait until Darry has put a new head on this idiot."

Jetson took his time about getting to his feet When he did rise he didn't assume his guard at once.

"Well," asked Darrin coolly, but mockingly, "have you had all you can stand, or are you going to back up your wild, crazy statements?"

Suddenly Jetson raised one of his feet quickly, as though to kick Dave in the belt line.

"Here, stop that!" cried Hepson and Joyce in the same breath, as they sprang forward. Darrin, seeing others interfere, didn't attempt to strike back, but merely stepped aside.

That was the chance for which Jetson had been watching. His kick didn't land; he hadn't intended that it should, but Dave's surprised recoil gave the other the chance that he really wanted. Both of Jetson's fists struck on Dave's nose, drawing a flood of the crimson.

"You coward! You cur!" gasped amazed Dalzell.

"Silence, all!" ordered Hepson, speaking by virtue of being a first classman. "Jet is crazy, but he can't be expected to take up more than one affair at a time. Darry, take your time to stop the flow of blood. Then you can demand an accounting of Jetson."

"I've nothing more to say," remarked Jetson. "I was struck and I've returned the blow with interest. That ends my concern in the affair. Good night, all."

"Hold on!" ordered Hepson, bounding forward and laying a strong, detaining hand on Jetson's shoulder. "You can't slip away like that. Matters have gone so far that they'll simply have to go further. You'd put yourself wholly in the wrong by withdrawing now—especially after the slimy trick that you've played a fair opponent."

"Slimy, eh?" cried Jetson angrily. "Mr. Hepson, you and I will have to have an accounting, too!"

"Oh, just as you like," responded the first classman, shrugging his shoulders. "You'll find it a better rule, however, to stick to one affair at a time. Darry, are you in shape, now, to attend to this matter from your point of view?"

"Quite," nodded Dave, who had about succeeded in stanching the flow of blood from his injured nose. "Does Mr. Jetson desire to take his coat off or not?"

"Yes!" cried Jetson tempestuously, unbuttoning his own overcoat and tossing it to the ground. "Now, take yours off, Mr. Darrin!"

"It's off," responded Dave, tossing the garment aside. "Now, look to yourself, sir!"

The two second classmen closed in furiously. It was give and take, for a few moments. In the clinches, however, Jetson succeeded in tearing Darrin's dress coat, and also in starting the blood again so that the crimson dripped down on Dave's white shirt front.

At the end of a full minute, however, Darrin had sent his enemy to the ground, stopped in a knock-out. Both of Jetson's eyes were also closed and badly swollen.

"Joyce," asked Hepson, "will you kindly remain with Jetson and see that he is assisted to the hospital, if he needs it? It won't do for too many of us, especially Darry, to be found here by any officer who may be passing."

"I'll attend to it," nodded Midshipman Joyce, "though I'd rather perform the service for any other fellow in the brigade."

Now that the affair was over, and Dave, after inspecting the damage to his dress coat, was pulling on his overcoat, he was suddenly recalled to other responsibilities.

"Danny boy," he said ruefully, as Hepson walked away with them, "I can't very well get back to the hop soon—perhaps not at all tonight. I can't go back in this torn coat, and I may not be able to borrow another that will fit me well. Will you be good enough to hurry back and explain to Belle why I am delayed—perhaps prevented from seeing her again tonight?"

"Certainly," nodded Dalzell, turning and hastening back.

"Now, what was it all about, Darry?" asked Hepson, as he walked along with Dave.

Midshipman Darrin explained the trouble as well as he could.

"So the idiot accused you of keeping him off the football eleven!" demanded Hepson in astonishment.

"Yes; and I offered to prove, by you, that I had nothing to do with his exclusion from the team."

"Why the sole and whole reason why Jetson wasn't called to the Navy team," declared Hepson, "was because he was believed to be too awkward and too dangerous to other players. Whew, but I'm certainly sorry this thing has happened!"

"So am I," Dave confessed candidly.

"And Jet made the further fool mistake of declaring that he wouldn't accept the word of any midshipman in the brigade."

"Something of the sort."

"Why, that's a wholesale, blanket insult to the whole brigade. Darry, your class will have to take action over such a remark as that."

"Oh, Jetson uttered the remark in the heat of an exceptional temper."

"That won't save him," predicted Hepson sagely. "The insult is there and it will stick. Your class, Darry, would lose caste with the fellows here if it allowed such an insult to go."

"Well, if it gets around, I suppose some sort of action will have to be taken."

"The second class, under the circumstances, can't do much less than send Jetson to Coventry."

"Oh, that would be too much!" Dave protested generously. "Jetson has always been an honorable, square fellow in the past."

"He has always been infernally sulky and high-handed," growled Midshipman Hepson.

"A bad temper is not such an uncommon failing," smiled Dave.

"No; but there are limits to the amount of temper that a gentleman may display and still be worthy to associate with gentlemen," contended Hepson stubbornly. "It's the insult to the whole brigade that I'm thinking of. Darry, I'll wager that your class won't and can't do less than give Jetson a trip to Coventry."

[Illustration: "Take Off Your Overcoat, Mr. Darrin."]

"Oh, that would be too much—unjust!" protested Dave.

"The class will do it just the same."

"If the class mixes up in my affair, and carries it so far as to send Jetson to Coventry, I'll be hanged if I don't go there with him!" cried Darrin impulsively.

The words were out. A man of Darrin's honest nature would feel bound to stand by even that heated utterance.

"Oh, come, now, Darry, don't be so foolish over a fellow who has treated you in such fashion."

"I've said it, haven't I?" asked Dave grimly. "It would be an utter injustice, and I'm not going to see something that is my own affair distorted into an injustice that would be altogether out of proportion to Jetson's offense."

By this time the strolling pair of midshipmen had reached the entrance to Bancroft Hall.

"What are you going to try to do about your dress coat, Darry?" asked Hepson in an undertone. "Borrow one?"

"If I can find one that fits."

"Take my advice, then. Don't just borrow, and thereby run a chance of getting both yourself and the lender in trouble. For of course you know that one can never tell when an inspection may be made, and the man whose dress coat was gone would have to account for it. So go to the O. C., state that your coat was accidentally torn, and ask permission to borrow one in order that you may return and escort your ladies back to the hotel. Your O. C. won't raise any objection to that."

"But he might want to see the coat that I have on," grimaced Dave. "Then the O. C. would be sure to see the blood-drips on my shirt front, or the collar, at least. Then talk of a mere accident might lead to questions as to the nature of the accident."

"True," nodded Hepson. "Then get back to your room. Get out clean linen and get into it. While you're doing that I'll negotiate the loan of a dress coat that will fit. Then you can go to the O. C., after you've changed the telltale linen."

This course, accordingly, was followed. Dave changed his linen as quickly as he could, while Hepson appeared with three borrowed dress coats for a try-on. One was found to fill the bill. Resting it over a chair, Darrin slipped on his service blouse and reported to the O.C. Permission was granted to borrow a dress coat. If the officer in charge felt any suspicion or curiosity as to the nature of the accident he cleverly concealed the fact.

A good deal of time, however, had been consumed. By the time that Midshipman Dave Darrin returned to the hop the orchestra was just breaking into the strains of "Home, Sweet Home."

Dave's quick glance roved the floor and the seats. He beheld Belle Meade, seated at the side, while Farley bent over her in an inviting attitude. Darrin quickly reached the scene. Belle saw him coming, just in time to refrain from taking Farley's arm.

"You won't mind this time, will you, Farl?" Dave asked, smiling.

"I had given you up," said Belle, as they moved away together in the dance.

"Of course Dan told you what had delayed me."

"He told me you would return as soon as you could," replied Miss Meade, "but he was provokingly mysterious as to the cause of your absence."

"There was a little trouble," Dave whispered.

"Are you in trouble?" asked Belle quickly, her cheeks paling.

"No; I think not. By trouble I mean that I just took part in a fight."

"So you took the time when I am here as the most suitable occasion for a fight?" asked Belle, her color coming back and heightening.

"It isn't wise for me to explain it now, Belle," Dave told her quickly. "You won't blame me when you know. But I'd rather save it for telling when we are out of the Academy grounds."

"Oh, just as you like. Dave, we mustn't let anything spoil what's left of this last short dance of the night."

"Thank you, Belle. These dances together don't happen any too frequently."

It was when the young people were walking back to the Maryland Hotel, and Mrs. Meade had joined Dan and Laura, that Belle again asked the nature of the trouble that had deprived Darrin of three of his dances with her.

Dave told the story, briefly, adding:

"Under the midshipmen's code, the blow had to be struck when the lie was passed."

"I don't blame you for knocking the fellow down," Belle agreed indignantly. "What a worthless fellow that Mr. Jetson must be!"

"Do you know, Belle, I can't quite bring myself to believe that he is worthless?"

"His conduct shows it," argued the girl.

"At first thought it would appear so but Jetson, I believe, is only the victim of an unhappy temper that makes him suspicious and resentful. He's brave enough, and he's never been caught in a dishonorable trick."

"Except the tricks he played on you at the football practice."

"He passed his word that he intended no trick, and I have been wholly inclined to take his word in the matter."

"Dave, you must look out for this man Jetson! He's going to get you into some trouble before you're through with him," exclaimed Belle earnestly. All her instinct was aroused in the matter, for Dave Darrin's success was dearer to Belle Meade than was anything else in the world.

"There are two things that I regret very much to-night," Dave went on. "One was that Jetson should provoke such a senseless dispute, and the other that I should be obliged to miss so much of your company here at Annapolis."

"I wouldn't mind anything," Belle answered, "if I could feel sure that no more trouble would come out of this affair with Jetson."

"I don't believe there will be any disturbing outcome," Dave assured her; "unless, possibly, another fight."

"A fight is nothing," declared Belle with spirit. "You're in training to become a fighting man, and a bout or two at fistcuffs is nothing more or less than so much valuable experience. Dave, promise me something?"

"Of course, if it's anything promisable."

"You'll write me—"

"Can you doubt that, Belle?"

"And let me know exactly and truthfully if anything further comes of this," she finished.

"I'll write and tell you anything that a midshipman is at liberty to make known concerning the conduct of the brigade."

"Just what does that cover?" asked Belle.

"I can't easily answer until the something or other happens to turn up."

"At any rate, Dave, if I get a suspicion that you're withholding from me anything that I ought to know, I shall be dreadfully worried. You can't have any idea how worried I have been about you sometimes in the past."

Not much time was there for the two midshipmen to remain at the foot of the steps of the hotel Then, after hearty good nights, Dave and Dan left the ladies, whom they would not see again until the next visit.

"From one or two things that I couldn't help overhearing, I judge that Belle is greatly worried over the possibility of trouble arising from the Jetson affair," remarked Dan on the way back to the Naval Academy and quarters.

"Yes," Dave admitted.

"Pooh! How can any trouble come to you out of the matter? With Jetson it's different He declared that he wouldn't take the word of any midshipman in the brigade."

"That was spoken in the heat of temper. Jetson didn't mean it."

"Just the same, some of the fellows have heard of it already, and I shan't be surprised if our class holds a meeting and sends Jetson to Coventry—where the fellow belongs."

"If they send Jetson to Coventry," spoke Dave quietly though bluntly, "I shall go along to Coventry with him."

Dalzell halted, staring at his chum in open-mouthed wonder.

"You idiot!" blazed Dan in wrathful disgust.

XVIII. THE CLASS MEETING SITS AS JURY

Three days later the class meeting was held.

Jetson was especially impressed with the notion that he must attend, since he must appear as the accused. With one of his disposition it was quite natural that the young man should go before the class in a highly resentful mood.

After a few introductory remarks, Jetson was summoned by the class president to rise.

"Mr. Jetson," asked the class president, "do you intend to deny having made the remark imputed to you—that you would not take the word of any midshipman in the brigade!"

"I made the remark, after a measure, sir," Jetson replied. "What I said was that in a certain matter I would not take the word of any midshipman in the brigade if it went counter to my fixed belief."

"Mr. Jetson, don't you consider that, under the circumstances, that amounted to a statement of your unwillingness to accept the word of members of the brigade?"

"I should be sorry to have that construction placed on my remark, Mr. President, for I know that nearly all the men of the brigade are men with a fine sense of honor."

"Then how do you reconcile this statement with your other one?"

"Mr. President, I meant, and I still mean, that I am so certain of the truth of the charge that I made to one Darrin, that, if members of the brigade spoke differently, I would then know that they were not telling the truth."

A storm of protests went up, while one hoarse voice bellowed:

"Throw him out!"

And another called:

"Coventry!"

"Order!" commanded the class president, rapping hard with his gavel. "Mr. Jetson, it is a most serious matter to impugn the good faith and honor of the brigade. It is hardly mitigated by the fact that the words were uttered in the heat of passion, especially when, in your cooler moment, you are not inclined to retract your statement or to render it harmless. I believe, therefore, that I am in accord with the sense of this meeting of the class when I ask you if you have any retraction or apology to offer."

"For the statement, in the form in which I offered it, Mr. President, I have no retraction or apology to offer, and only such explanation as I have lately given."

"Coventry! Coventry!" came the insistent call.

"Well, then, you can send me to Coventry, you friends of Darrin, if you feel yourselves justified in doing it!" quivered Midshipman Jetson, tossing his head and glaring defiantly around the room.

"Mr. President!"

"Mr. Wentworth."

"In view of the charge, and the subsequent statements of Mr. Jetson, I feel that we have an unpleasant duty to perform. The brigade is founded and based on honor. We, the members, cannot allow that honor to be impugned by one who would otherwise be fitted to be a member of the brigade. As Mr. Jetson refuses to retract his words, and as some one must take the initiative, it is my disagreeable duty to move you, sir, that the second class decide that Mr. Jetson is no longer worthy to be of our number, and that he accordingly be sent to Coventry."

"Mr. President!"

"Mr. Page."

"Mr. President, I desire to second the motion, and this I do as regretfully as it was moved."

"Oh, go ahead and send me to Coventry, then!" Jetson blazed forth angrily. "This class appears to have been hypnotized by Darrin. But, even if you do send me to Coventry, we shall see whether your action will be potent enough to drive me from the Naval Academy!"

Waving his arms wildly in the heat of his anger, Midshipman Jetson hurried from the room, midshipmen moving aside to favor his swift exit.

Hardly had the door banged when from all parts of the room the cry went up:

"Question! question! Put the motion."

"Mr. President!"

"Mr. Darrin."

"I arise, sir, to discuss the motion. I ask the gentlemen of the class to bear with me patiently while I set forth some of the aspects of this matter as I see them.

"At the very outset, sir, I wish to make it as plain as possible that I do not seek to stand here as the apologist for Mr. Jetson. I feel very certain that he would not authorize me to take that position. What I state I am stating on my own authority purely, and therein I am only exercising my right as a member of the second class.

"I would remind you, sir, that you all know, as well as I do, that Mr. Jetson has always borne an honorable reputation in this class and in the brigade. You all know his leading traits as well as I do. Mr. Jetson is a man of quick temper and rather lasting resentments. There is a good deal of sullenness in his nature—"

"And they're not the best qualities in a man who is being trained to command!" broke in a midshipman at the rear of the room.

"As to whether Mr. Jetson will be, by graduation time, well fitted to command men," Dave answered, "is not a question that this class is called upon to pass on. That question rests with the faculty of the Naval Academy. I am trying to get you to look at this matter only from the personal and the class point of view. Doubtless you all feel that Mr. Jetson is the victim of an unhappy temper. You would punish this frame of mind. Yet I ask you, bluntly, who among you have ever tried to aid Mr. Jetson in overcoming his own peculiar style of temper? If there is one among you who has made such attempt at aid, I ask that gentleman to stand until he can be recognized."

Dave made a pause, glancing around him, but no midshipman rose.

"Now, sir," continued Dave Darrin, "if we, as a class, take hasty and unwise action, it is quite possible that we may be depriving the United States Navy of a future officer who would be most valuable to his country in time of need. Have we the right to punish when we are forced to admit that none of us has ever attempted to help Mr. Jetson to escape from the fruits of his temperament? Mr. President, how would you attempt to extinguish a fire? By fanning it? Yet, when a member of this class is smouldering in his own wrath, it is proposed to meet his sullenness by casting him out of our friendship. Do we not owe some duty to our country in this matter? Mr. Jetson is one of our capable students in this brigade, and if he be given a fair chance to graduate, he is likely to become a Naval officer of merit. Do we desire to take upon ourselves the probable smothering of such a Naval career? Mr. President, and you, gentlemen of the second class, I trust sincerely that the motion of Coventry in this case will not prevail. I feel, as I believe many of you now present feel, that we should be taking too much upon ourselves, and that we should be making a grave mistake. If the motion now before the class should be defeated, I shall then be delighted to second any other motion that has for its object the finding of some way to make Mr. Jetson feel more fully that he is one of us, that he has our full sympathy, and that we hope to see him mould his character into a form that will enable him to become a credit to the United States Navy."

As Darrin sat down there was a ripple of applause. There were many present, however, who took a sterner view of the affair. These wanted to see Jetson, and all others who might similarly offend the brigade, forced to quit the Naval service.

"Question! question!" called a score of voices at once.

"Any further remarks?" inquired the class president, glancing about.

"Mr. President!"

"Mr. Jerould."

"Mr. President," said Midshipman Jerould, "I am certain that we all appreciate the remarks of Mr. Darrin. The remarks were prompted by a generous heart, and we respect Mr. Darrin and his motives alike. But I am certain, sir, that the majority of us feel that this is an ugly business and that only stern treatment can meet the situation. I therefore trust that the motion will be at once put and passed." (Loud cries of "hear! hear!")

"Any further—"

"Mr. President!"

"Mr. Darrin."

"Mr. President, I wish I could throw my whole being and soul into this problem, in order to make it clearer, as I see it. I would even appeal, as a favor, to the class to quash this Coventry resolution, and perhaps I might be considered to have some right to ask the favor, since the whole trouble grew out of an affair between Mr. Jetson and myself. I beg of you all, classmates, to quash the motion now before the class."

"No, no, no!" came the hearty response.

"Then, Mr. President and gentlemen," went on Dave Darrin in a voice slow and grave, "speaking for myself, as an individual member, I beg to state that I cannot respect a Coventry ordered under such circumstances. In this matter I would find myself unable to respect the mandates of the class. Therefore. I beg you to send me to Coventry with Mr. Jetson!"

Blank astonishment fell over the second class. Utter indignation seized some of the midshipmen. In another moment the feeling boiled up so that a few hisses rose.

Dave Darrin was pallid, but he had no desire to recede. He had acted according to the dictates of his conscience and he had kept his word.

In that pained instant Midshipman Farley sought to save the situation. He leaped to his feet, shouting:

"Mr. President, I move that this meeting adjourn!"

"Second the motion," called Page promptly, and now there was uproar on all sides.

XIX. DAVE STANDS ON PRINCIPLE

A motion to adjourn being always "in order," the class president put it.

"Aye!" came a thundering response.

"Contrary minded?"

"No."

The ayes appeared to have it, but the chair called for a showing of hands. Then the chair declared the class meeting adjourned.

"Hustle along with us, Darry. I want to talk with you!" sputtered Farley. He thrust an arm inside of Dave's and carried him along, Dalzell and Page following. Straight to Darrin's quarters they went.

"Now, then," demanded Farley, almost savagely, "what's the meaning of the very remarkable exhibition that you gave the class?"

"How was it remarkable?" questioned Dave.

"In your asking the class to send you to Coventry along with Jetson."

"It wasn't just to Jetson, just because he made a slip, that he should be shunned by the whole class."

"Couldn't the class decide that better than one man?" insisted Farley, his eyes gleaming.

"Without a doubt," Dave admitted. "I didn't attempt to do the deciding for the class. All I did was to try to throw my personal weight against it."

"And you compelled the class to adjourn without attending to Jetson's case."

"You're wrong, there, Farl"

"Didn't you?"

"I certainly didn't."

"Darry, you knew the class wouldn't vote to send you to Coventry just because you had ventured to give your opinion. Now, the only way the class could escape from the consequences of your action was to adjourn without action on Jetson."

"It was you, Farl, who moved to adjourn."

"Just to save a lot of hot-bloods from jumping on you, Darry. They'd have done it in another minute. The motion to adjourn was the only thing we could do."

"That's just it," nodded Midshipman Page.

"But there'll have to be another meeting called right away," Farley went on. "The brigade will expect it—will have a right to demand it. A member of our class has insulted the whole brigade, and under our old traditions only the second class can administer discipline."

"Well, then," pursued Darrin calmly, "when the new meeting is held Jetson and myself can be punished, if that be the wish of the entire class."

"Darry," stormed Farley, "you've simply got to withdraw your fool remarks when the class comes together again."

"Do you expect that I'll do that?" Dave inquired.

"If you don't," retorted Farley warmly, "you won't be worth the further concern of your friends. What do you say, Danny boy?"

"From what I know of Dave Darrin," replied Dalzell, "the class will be wasting its time if it expects Darry to retract."

"But what do you want to be sent to Coventry for?" demanded Farley.

"I don't," Dave answered. "I know how it hurts. I wouldn't see any midshipman here sent to Coventry for anything except positive and undeniable dishonor. Jetson hasn't been guilty of anything worse than a mean, quick temper and a fit of sulks afterwards. That's why, with my experience here at Annapolis, if Jetson is to be sent to Coventry, I decline to be bound by the class action."

"But you can't refuse to be bound by class action," retorted Farley aghast.

"Try me and see," smiled Dave stubbornly.

"Don't be an idiot, Darry!"

"It would be a contemptible thing," Dave went on, as calmly as before. "Coventry would mean the chasing of Jetson out of the brigade. You would ruin a man for a defect of temper that some of you others don't possess in quite the same degree. Is it fair to ruin any man because he has the misfortune to have a fit of sulks? That's why I won't heed the class action if it cuts Jetson. I'll bow to him whenever I meet him. I'll talk to him if he'll let me."

"But he won't," insisted Farley triumphantly. "No such sulky fellow as Jetson will let you make up to him."

"If he refuses," Dave contended, "then I can't help it. But I won't be a party to ruining the man. It would be far more to the purpose if the fellows would help the fellow to see that his sulkiness is his worst barrier here. Then a good student and naturally honorable fellow would develop into a capable Naval officer.

"That's the kind of talk for the padre" (chaplain), sniffed Farley.

"Glad you mentioned the padre," Dave retorted. "He's just the man to settle the case. Farley, I'll go with you to the padre at any time. You state one side of the case, and I'll state the other. If the padre doesn't back me, then I'll retract all I've said in open class meeting, and abide by whatever action the class may take."

"Oh, bother the padre!" snorted Farley angrily.

"All right, then," answered Dave good-humoredly. "If the class has a matter of ethics and morals that it doesn't dare submit to an expert in morals, then the class action is weak and wrong."

"There's no use talking to you, I'm afraid," sighed Farley ruefully. "But if you—"

Here the call to study interrupted further discussion. Farley, shaking his head gravely, left the room, followed by Page, who was shaking his head with equal force.

"If you think you're all right, David, little giant, go ahead," remarked Dalzell as he passed to his study desk.

"I think I'm right," Dave answered. "If not, I can be made to see the light. I don't claim to know everything, but what I've done I did in an effort to see and do the right thing."

When release from study came Dalzell expected to see several members of the class drop in. To his astonishment the minutes sped by without any knock at the door.

"You've gotten yourself in badly, Dave," Dan remarked at last. "The fellows don't even think it worth while to come here and remonstrate with you."

"For which I'm thankful," Darrin smiled. "Danny boy, I'm going to bed without waiting for taps."

By morning the news of Dave's action at the class meeting was known throughout the brigade. As he strolled about for a few minutes, after breakfast, while Dan went back to his room to do some hurried study, Darrin noted that many once friendly faces were turned away from him.

"Good morning, Hepson," was Dave's greeting as his friend went by.

"Good morning," muttered Hepson, and was gone.

"Good morning, Watson," said Dave to one of his own classmates.

"'Morning,' replied that midshipman briefly, and turned away. Joyce, Page and several other second classmen were standing in a group when Dave strolled in their direction.

"Good morning, fellows," from Dave. Joyce and Page answered; some of the others merely nodded coldly. Presently all had strolled away except Joyce and Page.

"You see how it is, Darry," murmured Joyce. "You've hurt the fellows."

"Are they going to cut me after this?" Dave asked. His smile was friendly, though the look in his eyes was cool.

"No-o-o," hesitated Midshipman Joyce. "I don't believe the fellows will exactly cut you; at least, not unless the situation grows more acute. But many of the fellows are sore on you for your words last night."

"My words were only my words. My opinion doesn't have to govern anyone else, Joyce."

"But, hang it, Darry, the class doesn't want to cut you out! Can't you get that through your head?"

"The class doesn't have to cut me."

"But it will, if it puts Jetson in Coventry and you break the Coventry. That's what the fellows hate to do to you, and that's why they're all so sore at you."

"I see," nodded Dave.

"Come, now, Darry, you're going to be reasonable, aren't you?" begged Joyce. "Don't break your friends all up with your stubbornness."

"I note that two of the fellows are talking with Jetson," continued Dave, letting his glance wander to another group.

"They have a right to," contended Joyce. "The class hasn't yet committed itself as to Jetson."

"Darry, if you don't look out," warned Page, "you'll precipitate matters. You may bring the storm down on Jetson if you test the temper and stubbornness of an offended class."

"I see that I was wrong in at least one particular," nodded Dave thoughtfully. "I shouldn't have made any remark about my intentions. I should have confined myself to a plea for Jetson. Then, if the class had gone against my view I could have ignored the class action and have taken the consequences just the same."

"Oh, hang you!" cried Page impulsively.

"Barry," begged Midshipman Joyce, resting a hand on his friend's arm, "don't do any more talking about this. Just let things quiet down."

"I'm perfectly willing to stop talking about it," agreed Dave. "In fact, since the class adjourned its meeting I haven't said a word on the subject except in answer to some other fellow's remarks."

Page and Joyce strolled away, leaving Dave by himself to think matters over. As it happened, the two second classmen with whom Jetson had been talking had now left the sulky midshipman, who, at this moment, was coming down the walk in Dave's direction.

"Good morning, Jetson," nodded Dave pleasantly, though not too cordially.

Midshipman Jetson paused a moment, looked Darrin full in the eyes, and then passed on.

"Not promising material to work with, at first," Dave told himself, laughingly.

There was no time for further thought, for it was within two or three minutes for the first formation for morning recitations. Dave ran back to his room, picked up a book and a writing pad.

"How have the fellows been treating you, chum?" asked Dalzell, looking up anxiously.

"To a most liberal dose of advice," laughed Darrin.

Dan sighed.

"Do you wish I'd take some of the advice, old fellow?"

"I don't know that I do," Dan answered slowly and with unwonted gravity for him. "I'm not one of the padre's star young men, and I don't often discourse on morality. Yet I'm inclined to believe that, when a fellow goes contrary to the spirit of the crowd, and is satisfied that he is doing so from generous and manly motives, he is pretty likely to be pursuing the right course. After a fellow has made a real effort to listen to his conscience, I don't believe he is ever wrong in following it."

"Thank you, Danny boy. That's always been the way it has struck me. I don't want to do any injustice to Jetson—or to the class, either."

"If you have to go to Coventry," announced Dalzell, giving a final brushing to his hair and fitting on his cap, "I'm going with you."

"But you don't have to, Dan! A fellow's roommate doesn't have to observe a Coventry."

"If it comes to Coventry," muttered Dalzell, "I shall invite it by speaking to Jetson, too."

Dave Darrin was aghast. He hadn't contemplated dragging Dan into such a scrape.

"There's formation now," announced Dan.

Out in front of the entrance, and along the terrace the many sections were falling in. Dan had occasion to pass the now very unpopular Jetson.

"Good morning, Jetson," was Dan's greeting.

Jetson started slightly, then replied, with a sulky frown:

"Good morning, Dalzell."

"Glad he'll speak to me," thought Dan with an inward grimace, "for I'm afraid that, before long, I'll be in the way of feeling mighty lonely a good deal of the time."

In another moment or two the sections were marching away, with the steady, rhythmic, tread peculiar to bodies of military in motion.

"I wonder how it is all going to come out?" sighed Dan, as he seated himself at his desk in the section room in the Academic Building.

"I wonder what sort of crazy or calculating grandstand play Darrin is trying to make just now?" pondered Midshipman Jetson, when informed of Dave's action at the meeting.

XX. "DON'T BE A FOOL, DARRY!"

A week went by without another class meeting.

For that reason Midshipman Jetson was still nominally in good fellowship.

The delay in action was by no means due to lack of class interest. The class seethed with interest in the affair, but with many of the midshipmen there was a belief that here was a case where slow and thoughtful consideration would be best for all concerned.

Darry was too good a fellow, and far too popular to be forced out of fellowship if it didn't have to be done to preserve the present feeling of ruffled class dignity.

Knowing that the matter hadn't been dropped, the first and third classes waited—in curiosity. The fourth class really had no standing in such weighty matters of the internal discipline of the brigade.

Every time that Dave Darrin passed Jetson he spoke pleasantly to the latter. The sulky one, however, did not respond.

"Some day, Darry, you'll tumble that you've been played for a fool," grumbled Farley.

"Then I'll have the satisfaction, won't I, of knowing that it's all my own fault?" smiled Dave Darrin.

"Yes; but I hate to see you go to pieces for a fellow like Jetson."

The following Saturday afternoon Darrin came in from a brisk walk, to find Dan poring over his books at the study desk.

"Letter there for you," said Dan, without looking up, as Dave, after glancing into the room, had turned with the intention of calling on Farley and Page.

"Thank you." Darrin crossed the room, picking up the letter. "From Belle," he remarked. "The second from her this week, and I haven't written her. Answering letters should be part of a man's honor, so instead of cruising about on the deck, I reckon I'd better sit down and write Belle."

"What are you going to tell her?" asked Dan quietly, without looking up.

"Hang it all!" grumbled Dave. "This is where the situation begins to be tough. Of course you understand how things are, Danny boy, and you are aware that I have asked Belle to take upon herself the right to be equally interested with me in my career."

"It is tough," assented Dan, with ready sympathy, and laying aside his book for the moment. "If my memory serves, Belle asked particularly, when she was here, that you let her know how the Jetson row turned out."

"Yes; she did."

"And now you've got to tell her—what?"

"Have I got to tell her?" wondered Darrin aloud. "Yes; any other course would be unfair. But another question is, have I a right to tell her just what took place in a class meeting?"

"I think so," spoke up Dalzell. "Of course, you needn't attempt to report the speeches, or anything like that, but it's rather clear to me that you have a right to tell Belle the exact news so far as it affects you—and therefore her."

"Thank you." Dave drew out stationery, picked up a pen and began to write. Dalzell returned to his text-book. When Dave had written the letter, he read to Dan the portion that related to a description of the Jetson matter before the class.

"I think it's all right to send that much of a statement," nodded Dan.

"Then I'm going to mail the letter at once, and it will go out to-night. Belle tells me that she is extremely anxious to know the outcome of the matter. Poor girl, I'm afraid my letter may be even worse than no news."

"Belle didn't betroth herself to the uniform or the Navy, if I know her," returned Dan quietly.

Dave went out and mailed the letter. It would not reach Belle until Monday morning. Wednesday afternoon, on returning from the last recitation, Dave found her answer on his study table.

"Want to hear a part of it, Dan?" questioned Midshipman Darrin.

"Of course I do," admitted that young man.

"Listen, then," and Dave read from Belle's letter as follows:

"'I won't attempt to say that I am not in the least worried or bothered over the turn the Jetson matter has taken,'" ran Belle's letter. "'I can't help feeling vitally interested in anything that concerns you. But you tell me that you have followed your own sense of honor and your own conscience in the matter. The best man that ever lived couldn't do better than that. I hope—oh, I do hope—that the whole affair will turn out in some way that will not be disagreeable to you. But remember, Dave, that the lightheaded little High School girl who plighted her faith to you is interested in you—not particularly in a future Naval officer, necessarily. If the affair should go to the worst ending, and you find it advisable to resign from the Naval Academy on account of any class feeling, there are plenty of bright prospects in life for an honorable and capable man. Don't ever imagine that I shall be disappointed over anything that you do, as long as you remain true to yourself and your manhood. And I will add, if you care to know it, that I approve of what you have done and am proud of you for your grit to do the right thing,'"

"A great girl!" cried Dan admiringly. "Just the kind of girl, too, that I was sure she is."

"Just the same," commented Dave musingly, "I know quite well that Belle has set her heart on seeing me serve in the Navy with credit."

"She wanted that because she knew you wanted it," Dan assured him.

Darrin was in the middle of his week's studies, where every minute's work counted, but he took the time to write an intense, if short, answer to Belle's letter. That finished, and dropped in the mail-box, he went back to his room and began to study.

Rap-tap! Farley slipped into the room.

"Thought I'd better come right away, Darry," explained the caller. "The news won't keep. A class meeting is called for Friday night right after supper. You know what that means, don't you?"

"Yes," Dave answered steadily.

"Old fellow, we all hope to see you come back to yourself at the meeting," went on Farley earnestly, resting a hand on Dave's blue sleeve.

"Meaning that I should desert my convictions and bow to the class?"

"Yes; if you put it that way. Darry, old friend, don't feel that you know more than the entire brigade."

"I don't," Dave answered.

"Then you'll drop the line of talk you started the other night?"

"No."

"Darry, old friend!"

"I haven't changed my mind. Then, if I changed my attitude, wouldn't I be acting a false part?"

"Don't be, a prig, Darry!"

"Be a knave instead, eh?"

"Darry, you ought to have been born a Puritan!"

"I'm glad I wasn't," Dave smiled.

"And are you enjoying yourself?"

"No," Dave answered seriously. "I'm not. Neither is Jetson. It is likely that the class may do a great injustice to us both."

"Why are you so struck on a fellow like Jetson?" pursued the other midshipman.

"I'm not," Dave rejoined. "But I think, if he could be awakened, he has qualities that would make us all like him."

"And you're going to throw yourself away on such thankless missionary work, Darry?"

"Not at all. I'm acting on my best lights, as I see them for myself."

"I'm sorry," sighed Farley honestly.

"And so am I. Don't believe that I enjoy the situation that has been created."

"That you've created for yourself, you mean!"

"I see that you can't or you won't, understand it, Farley."

"I wish I could understand it!" quivered Farley, who felt far more unhappy than he was willing that Dave should see. In the end, Farley returned to his own room, pondering deeply and trying to think out some plan of speech or of action that would save Midshipman Dave Darrin from the class anger that seemed certain to come.

After supper and just before study time was due, Dave went to Jetson's door and knocked. As he entered he found Warner, the other midshipman quartered there, as well as Jetson.

"Good evening, gentlemen," began Dave, after he had stepped into the room and closed the door.

"Good evening, Darrin," responded Warner, while Jetson merely scowled and picked up a book.

"Warner," went on Dave, "I came here to have a brief talk with Mr. Jetson. Would it be asking too much to ask you to step outside—unless Mr. Jetson feels that he would prefer that you remain?"

"Mr. Jetson prefers that Mr. Warner remain, and that Mr. Darrin take himself away with great expedition," broke in Jetson decisively.

But Warner thought differently, and, with a murmured "certainly, Darrin," he left the room.

"I won't ask you to take a seat, Mr. Darrin," said Jetson, "because I'll be candid enough to say that I hope you won't remain long."

"I don't need a seat," laughed Dave easily, "for I've heard that the best Americans transact their business on their feet. Mr. Jetson, I've come on a somewhat embarrassing mission."

"Yes?"—sneeringly.

"You know quite well the snarl that is to be untied before the class meeting Friday evening."

"Quite well," replied Jetson sulkily. "It is a situation that I owe to the fact of having been acquainted with yourself, Mr. Darrin."

"Jetson," resumed Dave, dropping the formal "Mr.", "the situation is one that menaces you and your standing here. It menaces me equally. I could get myself out of the scrape quite easily by withdrawing from the stand that I took the other night."

"I either fail or refuse to understand why you went to the risk that you did the other night, Mr. Darrin."

"If I were to retract what I said," Darrin added, "it would cause me to violate whatever respect I may have for right and justice. On the other hand, Jetson, surely you do not consider yourself right in refusing an apology for a remark in which you thoughtlessly cast an unjust reflection upon the whole body of midshipmen."

"To what is this leading, Mr. Darrin?"

"Jetson, your own sense of honor and justice surely tells you that you owe it to yourself to go before the meeting Friday evening—"

"I shall not attend, Mr. Darrin. The class may take whatever action it chooses in my absence."

"Jetson, you owe it to yourself, as well as to the class, to offer your apology for a remark that reflected upon the whole brigade. You can violate no feeling of honor or proper pride by such an apology. In fact, I do not see how you can justify yourself in withholding such apology for having expressed a sentiment which you know you did not mean in the way that the brigade has taken it."

"My feelings on questions of honor cannot possibly concern you, Mr. Darrin."

"On the contrary, your conduct does vitally concern me, Jetson. If you do not make your apology the class will—well, you know what will happen."

"Yes, I know," Jetson assented, his brow darkening.

"And possibly you know what it means to me. By my own statement—and I cannot, in honor retract it, I shall be compelled to share Coventry with you."

"No, you won't sir!" retorted Jetson, rising, his face ablaze with sulky anger. "You may go to Coventry, Mr. Darrin, and welcome, but you shall not share mine with me. You shall not share anything whatever with me—not even the air of this room if I can prevail upon you to take yourself out of a room where you are not wanted. Mr. Darrin, I indulge myself in the honor of wishing you—good evening!"

Jetson crossed the room, threw open the door and bowed low. Flushing, breathing quickly, Dave Darrin stepped out into the corridor and the door closed smartly behind him.

XXI. MIDSHIPMAN JETSON HAS THE FLOOR

It was Friday afternoon, and the last sections had been dismissed in front of Bancroft Hall. The balance of the afternoon belonged to the midshipmen, though most of them found it necessary to give the time to study.

Jetson was not one of the latter. Always well up in his studies, he had no occasion to worry about daily markings or semi-annual examinations.

He had not grown less sulky, but he found himself a victim of unusual restlessness. So he decided upon remaining out in the open air for the present.

Though actuated by a very different class of feelings, Darrin, also, felt disinclined for books. He tried to study, for a few minutes, but gave it up and caught up his cap. The winter day being mild, he did not trouble himself to don his uniform overcoat.

"Going to slip your cable?" inquired Dan, who was moored fast to a text-book.

"Yes; I feel the need of fresh air."

"Shove off, then!"

Dave went out quietly, Dan gazing curiously after his friend until the door had closed behind him.

"Poor chap," muttered Dan. "I reckon he has need enough of something to stop that restless feeling. The class meets to-night!"

Jetson, after some fifteen minutes of aimless wandering, felt himself attracted to the gymnasium. Going inside, he went to his locker, where, with feverish energy, he changed to gym costume.

For a few minutes the sulky one performed on the flying rings. He was an adept at this work, and something in the rapid motion soothed his troubled mind.

Tiring of the rings at last, Jetson stood with folded arms, looking about him, until his eyes lighted with interest on the trapezes. One was up higher than the rest. Drawn toward this one, Jetson took hold of the climbing rope and drew himself up, hand over hand. Seating himself on the bar, he sat looking about at the few other midshipmen who were exercising at that hour.

"There comes that Darrin fellow," thought Jetson, with a sudden burst of rage. "Wonder if he's going to work this afternoon? If he does, I'll put it all over him, even if I break my neck in the trying."

Back and forth swung Jetson, getting up speed on the trapeze. Then, suddenly, he threw his head downward, hanging on by his knees. An intentional slip, and he hung fully downward his ankles holding at the ends of the crossbar.

Folding his arms, Jetson again began to swing as he hung head downward. Among the midshipmen there were not so very many who were skillful at this form of exercise. Jetson was, and he was secretly proud of it.

"This will put the fellow Darrin to the bad if he came in with any notion of showing off," thought the sulky one exultantly.

Now the other midshipmen turned to leave the gym. In a moment more the only two left were Darrin and the man on the trapeze. In addition to the midshipmen there were two gym. attendants at some little distance.

"Who's doing that fine work?" wondered Dave, stepping closer. "Why, it's Jetson! Well, he has one accomplishment that I really envy him!"

Midshipman Jetson was now going through some rapid evolutions, first hanging head downward, and then, after developing speed, raising himself and turning over the crossbar. It was really work of which any athlete might have been proud.

"Say, Jim," muttered one attendant to the other, "that middie has me nervous for fair."

"Forget it," advised the other attendant, "It's the middie's neck, not yours."

"But we took the net down that goes with that bar. Suppose the young man should fall. He'd break his neck, and what could we say with the net gone?"

"He's no business up there at this late hour in the afternoon," grumbled the other man.

"That talk won't save us, either, if anything happens."

Jetson, filled with the desire to show off before the comrade he hated, had increased the speed of his brilliant flying movements.

But suddenly he slipped. There was no regaining his grip. With a howl of fright he felt himself plunging head downward more than thirty feet to the hard floor of the gym. He was in a fair way of landing on his head, cracking his skull and breaking his neck. Worse, in his sudden dread, he seemed to have lost control of his muscles.

"Turn! Land on your feet!" called Dave.

It all happened in a second. Dave, brief as the instant was, realized that the other midshipman was not going to land on his feet. In the same fleeting moment that Darrin called he hurled himself into position.

Straight down shot Jetson. Dave waited, with outstretched arms, ready to risk his own neck in the effort to save his sulky comrade.

From their end of the gym. the two startled attendants had watched the impending disaster, but there was no time for them to do anything.

From the way that Jetson fell it looked as though he had made a straight dive for Dave Darrin's head. At all events, their heads met in sharp collision.

Down went Dave, as though shot, and Jetson went with him, but Darrin's outstretched arms had grasped the other's body, and Jetson was saved the worst of his fall.

Now the two midshipmen lay where they had fallen, Jetson lying somewhat across Dave's motionless body.

"They're killed!" yelled the attendant Jim hoarsely.

"We'll look 'em over first, before we give up," retorted the other attendant, stooping and gently rolling Jetson over on his back.

"Sure they're killed, Bob," protested Jim huskily. "They met head on. You'll find that both middies have their skulls broken."

"Bring two pails of water, you chump," ordered Bob. "I tell you, we won't raise a row until we've done the best we can for 'em."

[Illustration: Straight Down Shot Jetson.]

The water was brought. Under liberal dashes of it over his face and neck Jetson soon opened his eyes.

"I—I had a bad fall, didn't I?" he asked of the man nearest him.

"You'd have broken your neck, sir, if Mr. Darrin hadn't jumped forward and broken the force of your fall."

"I'd rather any other man had saved me," muttered the sullen one, slowly aiding himself to sit up. "How did Mr. Darrin do it?"

"Well, sir," responded Bob, "he stopped you partly with his head, and it would have been broken, only he had his hands out and gripped you at the shoulders or trunk. It may be that his head was split as it was, but I hardly think so."

Two more liberal douses of water, and Dave, too, opened his eyes.

"Is Jetson all right?" was Darrin's first question.

"Yes," muttered Midshipman Jetson, "and thanks to you, as I understand it."

"Oh, if you're all right, then I'm glad," responded Dave. "Bob, have you time to help me to stand up?"

"How do you feel, sir?" asked Bob, after he had complied and stood supporting Midshipman Darrin on his feet.

"Just a bit dizzy, Bob; but that'll pass off in a moment. Jetson, I'm glad to see you alive. Not badly jolted, I hope?"

Jim was now aiding Jetson to his feet.

"Do you want a surgeon, either of you?" asked Bob.

Both midshipmen shook their heads.

"I think I'll go over to one of the side seats," remarked Darrin, and Bob piloted him there, while Jim aided Jetson out to the shower room and locker.

Dave Darrin soon conquered the dizzy feeling enough to stand up and walk without assistance.

"I think I'll go, now," he told Bob. "I don't believe there is anything that I can do for Mr. Jetson."

"There is, sir, if you don't mind," interposed Jim, striding up. "Mr. Jetson has just asked if you mind waiting for him."

"My compliments to Mr. Jetson, and I shall be glad to wait for him."

The sulky midshipman soon hove in sight, having donned his uniform. He came up to Dave looking decidedly embarrassed.

"Mr. Darrin, I fear I must thank you for having stopped my course to the floor," admitted Jetson, with a sheepish grin.

"I won't make it too hard to thank me," replied Dave, with a smile. "I'll just say that you're wholly welcome."

"But if you hadn't caught me in just the way that you did, your skull would have been smashed by the impact with my head. You risked your life for me, Mr. Darrin."

"I didn't stop to think of that, at the time. At any rate, risking one's life goes with the Naval service, doesn't it?"

"It was a splendid thing for you to do, Mr. Darrin! May I walk along with you?"

Dave nodded. It was dark, now, and that portion of the yard appeared clear of any moving beings but themselves.

"Darrin," continued Jetson, "when you risked Coventry in the effort to save me from it, I thought you were posing, though for the life of me I couldn't fathom your motive. But the risk that you took this afternoon wasn't in the line of posing. Do you mind telling me why you did it?"

"I'd have done as much for any man in the brigade," Dave answered frankly.

"Just the same it has touched me—touched me deeply."

"I'm glad of that, Jetson," Dave answered heartily. "And now I hope that we can bury the hatchet and be friends, as men in the brigade should always be."

"But why do you want to be friends with a fellow like me?"

"Because I want to know the real Jetson—not the one that you present outside of a sulky exterior. Jetson, I know there's gold in you, and I want to see it brought to the surface. I want your friendship because—well, it may be a selfish reason, but I think it's worth having."

"That's a funny notion to take," laughed Midshipman Jetson uneasily. "I have never been conceited enough to fancy that my friendship was worth having."

"Let yourself out and be natural, man!"

"How?"

Then indeed did Dave Darrin plunge into his subject. There was a lot to be said, but Dave said it briefly, tersely, candidly. Jetson listened with a flushing face, it is true, but at last he stopped and held out his hand.

"Will you take it, Darrin?"

"With all my heart!"

There was chance for but little more talk, as now the slowly moving midshipmen were close to the entrance to Bancroft Hall.

"You'll be at the class meeting this evening, won't you?" asked Dave Darrin.

"You may be very sure that I shall!"

Then they entered the lobby of Bancroft Hall, parting and going their different ways.

In Darrin's eyes there was a strange flash as he turned down the "deck" on which he lived. But Dan, still absorbed in study, did not pay especial heed to his roommate.

Immediately after supper in the mess-hall, Dalzell caught his chum's arm.

"Let's get in early at the meeting, David, little giant. I'm afraid there's big trouble brewing, and we must both be on hand early. We may have some chance to talk a bit before the meeting is called to order."

"I don't believe I shall care to talk any, Danny boy, before the president raps."

"Don't be too stubborn, Davy! Your future will very likely be at stake to-night. Your most dependable friends will be on hand and under arms for you. Back 'em up!"

At least half of the class was gathered when the chums entered. Darrin looked about him, then took a seat. He watched the door until he saw Midshipman Jetson enter.

Rap, rap, rap! went the gavel at last.

"Gentlemen," announced the president, "there is some unfinished business before the meeting. At the last class meeting a motion was made and seconded that Midshipman Jetson be sent to Coventry. Any remarks that may be offered on that resolution will be in order now."

Dave Darrin was on his feet in an instant. Three or four men hissed, but Dave appeared not to notice.

"Mr. President," Dave began in a slow, steady voice, "this motion more closely affects Mr. Jetson than it does any other member of the class. I understand that Mr. Jetson has a few remarks to make."

There was a murmur that ran around the room as Jetson rose to his feet, claiming the chair's recognition.

"Mr. President and gentlemen," began Jetson, his face pale and his words coming with effort, "I am not going to discuss the question of whether the class will or will not be justified in sending me to Coventry. I have a duty to perform to-night, and I assure you that it comes hard, for my temper and pride have been beyond my control for a long time. I wish to make a most earnest apology for remarks of mine that were construed as being insulting to the members of the brigade. I further desire to make any statement, or any admission that will most quickly banish any sense of wrong coming from me. In doing so, I am moved to this proper course by my friend, Mr. Darrin!"

XXII. THE BIRTH OF A GENTLEMAN

It wasn't a real bombshell that hit the class, of course, but the effect was almost as startling. First, there were murmurs, then a hubbub of voices, last of all a rousing cheer.

In the midst of the excitement Midshipman Farley leaped to his feet.

"Mr. President!" he bellowed.

But his voice did not carry ten feet from where he stood.

"Mr. President!" he yelled, louder than ever before.

Still the hubbub continued. Farley leaped to the seat of his chair, turning and waving both arms frantically. Any midshipman who had glanced toward the chair would have discovered that the occupant of the class chair was rapping hard with his gavel, though no sound of it was heard above the tumult.

Presently, however, Farley's antics produced their effect. The noise gradually lessened.

"Mr. President!" essayed Farley once more.

"Mr. Farley has the floor!" shouted the class president hoarsely.

"Mr. President," went on Farley, at the top of his voice, "class honor and that of the brigade have been satisfied by the direct, manly statement of Mr. Jetson. I move you, sir, that the motion now before this body be tabled, all further action dropped and the class meeting adjourned subject to call."

"Second the motion!" yelled Page.

"The motion to adjourn must follow the disposal of the first part of the motion," ruled the chair.

"I accept the amendment," called Farley.

"I, also," assented Page.

"Question! question!"

"Before putting the motion," continued the chair, "I desire to ask Mr. Jetson if he has fully considered his statement and the revised position that he has taken? Since the matter affects the entire brigade, and not this single class, I feel that there should be no doubt, or any question to be raised later."

"Mr. President," announced Jetson, when he had secured recognition, "I have retracted any offensive words that I may have uttered. I have attempted no justification of any of my words, but have made flat apology."

"Three cheers for Jet!" shouted one impulsive midshipman.

"Any remarks?" questioned the chair.

"Mr. President!"

"Mr. Darrin."

"I do not see how Mr. Jetson's retraction or apology could be made any more explicit. I trust to see Mr. Farley's motion, seconded by Mr. Page, put to the vote and carried at once. I am wholly aware that I have incurred the class's displeasure (cries of 'no! no!') but I urge that whatever action may be taken regarding myself be deferred until after Mr. Jetson has been restored to the fullest measure of class and brigade fellowship."

"Any further remarks?" questioned the class president, when Darrin had seated himself. "If not, I will state the motion."

A few "nays" succeeded the great chorus of "ayes," and the motion of Coventry for Jetson was declared tabled.

"Any further action?" demanded the chair.

"Move we adjourn!" called Farley.

"Second the motion!" seconded Page.

The motion was put and carried without dissent Then, amid the greatest jollity, the meeting was declared adjourned.

There was a rush of at least twenty men to shake hands with Jetson, who, with flushed but pleased face, bore his honors as modestly as he could.

"What on earth came over you, Jet?" demanded Joyce bluntly.

"It would be a long story about Darrin," replied Midshipman Jetson. "He had the grace to show me that I was a constitutional ass, with perhaps some slight chance of being reborn. To make it short, Darrin persuaded me to come before the class, eat humble pie and set myself right with myself, even if I couldn't with the class."

"It was beautifully done, Jet," murmured Page, who was tremendously grateful at seeing Dave Darrin rescued from sacrificing himself to a principle.

"If any of you fellows catch me in the sulks hereafter," spoke up Jetson, though he winced as he said it, "I hope the man who catches me will do me the very great favor of passing me a few sound kicks before others have a chance to catch me to the bad."

"Bully for you—you're all right, Jet!" called several warmly.

Fully half of the class members had left the room by this time. Dan Dalzell, who had been thunderstruck, and who was now full of questions, was being urged out of the room by Dave.

"So Darry converted you, did he?" laughed Joyce. "Bully for Darry. Why, that great and good fellow dared the class to send him to Coventry after it got through with you. He accused the class of kicking a man without giving that man a chance to get up on his feet."

"It's a good deal like Darrin," remarked Jetson, his eyes a trifle misty, "though it took me a thundering long time to realize that Darrin was really of that kind."

"How did it happen, any way?" insisted Farley.

"You've heard nothing about it?"

"Not a word—not a hint," protested Page eagerly.

There were less than twenty of the midshipmen now remaining in the room, so Jetson did not feel as embarrassed as he might have done had he been called upon to give the recital before a class meeting. He told his listeners the story of Dave's splendid conduct in the gym. that afternoon, and of the talk that had followed the reconciliation of the enemies.

"That was like good old Darry again," remarked Farley proudly. "No fellow has a warmer temper than Darry when he's aroused to righteous anger, but no fellow has a more generous temper at all times."

"Let's go down and jump in on Darry, all hands!" proposed Joyce.

"Listen!" warned Farley.

Study call! That took the young men hastily to their regular academic duties.

"One thing this business has done," remarked Midshipman Farley, looking up from his books.

"I'll be the goat," murmured Page.

"Darry has always been somewhat the leader of the class, ever since the fellows began to find him out, back in the first year here. But this last business has boosted Dave Darrin unmistakably and solidly now into the post of leader of the class."

"We're safe, then!" retorted Page. "Darry won't lead us into any trouble!"

The realization that Midshipman Dave Darrin was assured leader of the second class was not long in coming to most of the other men of the class.

Yet Dave did not seek the post, nor did he attempt to do any actual leading. He still considered himself as possessing one voice, and one only, in the class councils.

If Dave was leader, Dan Dalzell, both by reflected glory and by virtue of his own sterling merits as well, shared the leadership with Dave to a great extent. Dan's power might have gone further than it did had it not been for the fact that he was so full of mischief as to leave his comrades often in doubt as to whether he were really serious in what he said and did.

XXIII. "BAGGED," AND NO MISTAKE

"Plebes Flint and Austin are having a good many callers," remarked Dave Darrin, halting by the door of quarters before he and Dan entered.

"Sure! Aren't you wise?" inquired Dan, with a wink.

"I think so," murmured Dave. "The callers all seem to be third classmen."

"Of course; they're putting the rookies through their paces."

"Surest thing!" murmured Dalzell without excitement.

"But this is March. Isn't it a rather late time in the year to be still hounding the poor new men?"

"I don't know," mused Dalzell. "It may be that Mr. Flint and Mr. Austin are unusually touge."

"Touge" is Annapolis slang for "fresh." It corresponds closely to the "b j" of West Point.

A sound as of protest came from behind a closed door at the further end of the deck.

"I hope our youngsters aren't going too far," Dave remarked, "youngster" being the accepted term for the third classmen, and the same as "yearling" at West Point.

"Well, it's none of our business," replied Dan, with a shrug of his shoulders. "Study call will be along in fifteen minutes. Going to get an early start with the books to-night?"

"I guess that will be wise," Darrin nodded.

"It surely will."

The rest of the winter had gone along rather uneventfully, save for the inevitable, overpowering amount of grind through which a midshipman must pass. It was now spring, and midshipmen thoughts were divided between two topics—annual exams, and summer cruise.

Dan had started into the room, and Dave was about to follow, when he heard an unusually loud thud at the further end of the deck.

"Danny boy, the plebes must be getting it hard to-night."

"I'd like to see the fun," muttered Dalzell, his eyes snapping with mischief. "But it doesn't seem to be any of our business. Hazing work is left in charge of the youngster crowd."

"Yes; a second classman shouldn't interfere," assented Dave. "Well, study for ours."

"I'm afraid I'm not as studious as I was a minute ago," contended Dan, with a grin.

Dave looked almost startled as he seized his chum by the arm.

"Inside with you, Danny boy!"

"Not under compulsion," laughed Midshipman Dalzell.

"I'll condescend to coaxing, then. But don't anger the youngsters by butting in."

"And why not? An upper classman has a right to step in, if he wishes."

"It is, at least, against the rules of good taste to interfere," argued Darrin.

"Well, hang you, I don't want to interfere. All I want to do is to look on. Can't an upper classman do that?"

"I won't," returned Dave.

Yet almost immediately he changed his mind, for two hard bumps and a gust of laughter swept up the deck.

"They're making so much racket," murmured Dave, lingering by his own door, "that, the first thing we know, a duty officer will swoop down and rag the bunch."

"Let's go in, then, as grave and dignified second classmen, and warn the youngsters like daddies," proposed Dan, but his eyes were twinkling with the spirit of mischief.

A good deal against his own inclination Darrin allowed himself to be coaxed into the thing.

Nine youngsters were found in Midshipmen Flint and Austin's room when Dave and Dan entered after rapping.

"We're not intruding, I hope?" inquired Dalzell, with his most inviting grin.

"Not at all, gentlemen," responded Midshipman Eaton, of the third class.

"These fourth classmen seemed unwontedly popular to-night," insinuated Dan.

"They've been most uncommonly touge all through the year, sir," replied Eaton, tacking on the "sir" in order to impress Midshipmen Flint and Austin with the tremendous dignity or all upper classmen.

"What form does their tougeness take?" Dan wanted to know.

"They have not yet learned the respect that is due to upper classmen, sir."

"And especially to third classmen?" inquired Dan, now without the flicker of a smile.

"They are especially touge, sir, with third classmen."

"And you are showing them the error of their ways?"

"We are trying to do so, sir."

"I thought so, from the noise we heard," pursued Dalzell.

"If you have any better ways, Mr. Dalzell, we shall be glad to profit from your riper experience, sir," suggested Midshipman Eaton.

"No; I've forgotten almost everything that I ever knew in that line," remarked Dan.

"Mr. Darrin, sir?" suggested Eaton, turning to the other second classman present.

"I have nothing to suggest," replied Dave slowly, "unless—" Then he paused.

"Unless—sir?" followed up Midshipman Eaton.

"No; I won't say it. It might give offense," Darrin responded.

"Have no fear of that, Mr. Darrin," urged Eaton.

"All I was going to suggest, Eaton, was that this is the month of March."

"Yes, sir?" inquired Eaton wonderingly.

"When Dalzell and I were fourth classmen we weren't troubled at all by the youngsters after Christmas. Last year, Eaton, our class didn't bother yours at any later date, either."

Some of the youngsters present began to look embarrassed, though Dave's tone had been quiet and free from rebuke.

"But, sir, don't imagine that we're doing anything to the plebes for our own amusement," protested Eaton. "This is the only pair of the fourth class left that need any attention from our class. These two young misters are the tougest lot we've had to deal with. In fact, sir, they're ratey!"

"Still," rejoined Dan Dalzell, "I think you are keeping it up pretty late in the year, even if they are ratey."

A midshipman who is "ratey," as has been explained in an earlier volume, is a much greater offender than a midshipman who is merely touge. For a ratey fourth classman makes the foolish blunder of considering himself as good as an upper classman.

"Of course," suggested Dan, making haste to smooth over any astonishment that his own and his chum's remarks might have caused, "we don't propose to instruct the members of the third class in the way they shall perform their duties toward the members of the fourth. Don't let us interfere with you, Mr. Eaton."

"By no means," murmured Dave Darrin, smiling. "We don't wish to intrude."

"But wait just one moment gentlemen," begged Eaton. "We want you to see for yourselves how effectively we are smoothing the touge creases out of these baby midshipmen."

During the discussion Flint and Austin had been standing at one side of the room, looking decidedly sheepish. Both had their blouses off, though neither had been required to take off his collar. The trousers of the two fourth classmen were rather liberally overlaid with dust, showing that they must have been performing some rough stunts on the floor.

"Step over to that, basin, mister," ordered Youngster Eaton, eyeing Flint, who promptly obeyed.

"Now, mister, stand on your head in that bowl," commanded Midshipman Eaton.

Looking doubly red and uncomfortable, with these two grave-looking second classmen present, Flint bent down, attempting to stand on his head in the bowl of water, while he tried, at the same time to push his feet up the wall, thus standing on his head. Twice Flint essayed the feat and failed, splashing a good deal of water over the floor. Then, for the third time, Flint tried the performance. This time he succeeded, but his two previous failures had provoked such a storm of laughter that no man present heard a cautious rap on the door. The next instant that door was flung open and Lieutenant Preston stepped into the room.

With the entrance of that discipline officer half of the midshipmen present wheeled about, then, startled as they were, did not forget to come to attention.

"Hm!" said Lieutenant Preston, at which the other half heard and came to attention. Flint, whether too scared, or perhaps enjoying the discomfiture of his tormentors, made no effort to return to normal position.

"What's your name, sir?" thundered the discipline officer, glaring fiercely at Midshipman Flint.

"Flint, sir," replied the fourth classman in a gasp.

"Bring your feet down and come to attention, sir!"

Flint obeyed.

During this time Lieutenant Preston had stood so that no midshipman in the room could slip by him into the corridor.

"I will now take the names of the gentlemen present," went on the discipline officer, drawing a notebook and pencil from an inner pocket and commencing to write.

"All except the fourth classmen present will at once fall in by twos outside," commanded Lieutenant Preston, closing the notebook and slipping it away. "Midshipmen Flint and Austin will mend their appearances as speedily as possible and then form the last file outside."

"Wow!" whispered Dan in his chum's ear outside. "Talk about the fifty-seven varieties! We're in all the pickles!"

"Yes," murmured Dave.

"What are you going to do about it, Davy?"

"Take my medicine," Dave replied.

"But we weren't really in the thing."

"Danny boy, never get out of a thing, or try to, by playing cry baby!"

"No danger," retorted Dalzell. "David, little giant, we'll just console ourselves with the realization that we're in the worst scrape we ever struck yet."

"Yes," nodded Dave.

Fourth classmen Flint and Austin were not long in making themselves presentable. Then they fell in at the rear of the line.

"Squad, forward march!" commanded the discipline officer dryly.

Through the corridor and off that deck the little squad of thirteen midshipmen marched. Never had thirteen been more unlucky, for the present superintendent was known to be a man determined to stamp out hazing.

Nor did the affair remain a secret for more than a moment Midshipmen returning to their own decks stepped to the wall to let the squad pass. Nor was more than a look at the two rear fourth classmen needed to enable any wondering midshipmen to guess the nature of the offense with which the remaining eleven upper classmen were to be charged.

"Our Darry in that!" gasped Farley, as the squad went by. "Did you see him?"

"Yes," Page mournfully admitted.

"Then my eyes didn't play me any trick, as I had hoped. Darry and Dalzell! What evil spirit tempted them to be in that scrape?"

In the meantime Lieutenant Preston was arraigning the captured delinquents before the officer in charge, and the commandant of midshipmen had already been telephoned for and was on the way.

Study call cut short a good deal of excited discussion on the different decks. The commandant of midshipmen arrived, heard the evidence of the discipline officer, looked over the offenders, entered their names on his own record, and then spoke briefly, but in the voice of fate itself:

"The accused midshipmen will go to their rooms. They will, until further orders, remain in their quarters, except for recitations and meal formation. They will forego all privileges until the superintendent or higher authority has acted finally in this matter. That is all, young gentlemen. Go to your rooms, except Midshipmen Flint and Austin, who will remain."

As soon as the upper classmen had departed, the commandant took Flint and Austin in hand, questioning them keenly and making notes of the more important answers.

Back in their own rooms, Midshipman Dan Dalzell was at first overwhelmed with horror.

"We're dished, Davy! We walk the plank! The super won't forgive a single man who is caught at the royal pastime of hazing! I'm going to write, now, for the money to get home with. You know, in the last two affairs, the hazers have been dismissed from the Naval Academy."

"Yes," Dave nodded. "It looks black for us. But keep a stiff tipper lip, Danny boy."

"It's all my own miserable fault!" uttered Dalzell, clenching his fists, while tears tried to get into his eyes. "You've got me to blame for this, Davy! It was all my doing. I insisted on dragging you down to that room, and now you've got to walk the plank, all because of my foolishness! Oh, I'm a hoodoo!"

"Stop that, Danny!" warned Dave, resting a hand on his chum's arm. "I didn't have to go, and you couldn't have made me do it. I wouldn't have gone if I hadn't wanted to. I'm not going to let even you rest the blame for my conduct on your shoulders."

Finally the chums went to study table.

"What's the use!" demanded Dan, closing a book after he had opened it. "We don't need to study. We've got to walk the plank, at any rate, and all the study we do here for the next day or two is so much time wasted!"

"We may walk the plank," retorted Dave. "In fact, I feel rather certain that we shall. But it hasn't happened yet Danny boy, open that book again, and open it at the right page. Study until recall, and work harder than you ever did before. You know all about that old-time Navy man who said, 'Don't give up the ship!'"

They studied, or manfully pretended to, until release sounded. How much they learned from their books that night may have been a different matter.

XXIV. CONCLUSION

By the next day it was generally conceded among the midshipmen that the ranks of the brigade were about to be thinned as a result of the last hazing episode. Nor did the third class generally uphold Eaton and his youngster associates in the affair of the night before.

"They were out for trouble, and they got it," declared one third classman. "The rest of us let up on all hazing before Christmas."

In some underground way Farley and Page heard the straight story concerning Dave and Dan; how the two upper classmen had gone to the room and Darrin had entered a mild protest against the hazing.

Though it was against regulations to visit them confined to their quarters, Farley took the chance and got a few words with Dave.

"Darry, don't let anyone trim you for what you didn't do," begged Midshipman Farley. "Go straight to the com.; tell him that you and Dan had just entered the room to see what was going on, and that you had just made a protest against the hazing."

"Nothing doing there, Farl," Dave gently assured his friend. "We were present and we really had no business to be. We wouldn't make ourselves look any more manly by crying when the medicine is held out to us."

"But you did protest," urged Farley anxiously. "Stand up for your own rights, Darry. Remember, I'm not counseling you to lie, or to make any stretched claims. That would be unworthy of you. But tell the full truth in your own defense."

"Dan and I will truthfully answer all questions put to us by competent officers," Dave replied gravely. "Farl, that is about all we can do and keep our self-respect. For, you understand, we were there, and we knew just about what we were going to look in on before we crossed the threshold of that room."

"But we can't lose you from the brigade, Darry," pleaded Farley hoarsely. "Nor can the people of this country spare you from the Navy of the future. Stick up for all your rights. That's all your friends ask of you. Remember, man, you're nearly three fourths of the way through to graduation! Don't let your fine chances be sacrificed."

Dave, however, still maintained that he was not going to play baby. In dismay some forty members of the second class held an unofficial outdoor meeting at which ways and means were suggested. In the end Joyce, Farley and Page were appointed a committee of three to think the matter over solemnly, and then to go to the commandant of midshipmen with whatever statement they felt justified in making.

At the earliest possible moment the three waited outside the door of the commandant's office, after having sent in their cards and a message as to why they desired to see the commandant.

"Well, gentlemen," began the commandant briskly, "I understand that you want to see me in reference to the last hazing outrage. What have you to say?"

"We come in behalf of two members of our own class, sir," spoke up Farley.

"Hm! What do you expect to be able to say for Midshipmen Darrin and Dalzell? They do not attempt to deny the fact that they were present at the hazing, and that they were at least looking on when Lieutenant Preston entered the room."

"May I inquire, sir," replied Farley very respectfully, "whether either Mr. Darrin or Mr. Dalzell have stated that Mr. Darrin had just entered a protest against the hazing, and that they had made the protest just before Lieutenant Preston went into the room?"

"No; such a statement has not been made by either Mr. Darrin or Mr. Dalzell," admitted the commandant. "Are you sure that Mr. Darrin did protest?"

"I can only say, sir," replied Farley, "that I have been so informed. I also know, from Mr. Darrin's own lips, that he has refused to inform you that he made such a protest."

"Why?" shot out the commandant, eyeing Mr. Farley keenly.

"Because, sir, Mr. Darrin feels that he would be doing the baby act to enter such a defense."

"And so has commissioned you to appear for him?"

"No, sir," returned Farley almost hotly. "In fact, sir, I believe Mr. Darrin would be very angry if he knew what I am doing and saying at this moment. This committee, sir, was appointed by some forty members of the second class, sir, who are familiar with the facts. We have been sent to you, sir, by our classmates, who are frantic at the thought of losing the finest fellow in the class."

"I thank you, gentlemen," said the commandant, in a tone which signified the polite dismissal of the committee. "I will keep in mind what you have told me."

The investigation was being carried on daily. All of the third class offenders were put on carpet more than once. At the next session with the youngsters the commandant questioned them as to the truth of the statement that Darrin had tried to protest against the hazing.

"Why, yes, sir," Eaton admitted, "Mr. Darrin did say something against what we were doing."

"As an upper classman, did Mr. Darrin order you to stop?"

"No, sir," Eaton admitted; "he didn't command us to stop."

"What did Mr. Darrin say?"

"I can't state with accuracy, now, sir, just what Mr. Darrin did say to us."

"Did he disapprove of your acts?"

"Yes, sir. I am very certain that he made every third classman present feel uncomfortable."

"Then whatever Mr. Darrin's words were, they had the effect, if not the exact form, of a rebuke against your conduct?" pressed the commandant.

"Yes, sir," replied Midshipman Eaton with great positiveness.

Eaton's companions in the hazing all bore him out in the statement. The commandant of midshipmen then took up the matter of their testimony with the superintendent of the Naval Academy.

After six days of confinement to quarters, Darrin and Dalzell were ordered to report before the commandant. With that officer they found the superintendent also. It was the latter officer who spoke.

"Mr. Darrin and Mr. Dalzell, on the testimony of others, not of yourselves, we have learned that Mr. Darrin had just entered a rebuke against the hazing before Lieutenant Preston entered the room in which the hazing was taking place. We have this on such general assurance that both the commandant and myself feel warranted in restoring you to full duty and privileges. At the same time, Mr. Darrin, I desire to thank you for your manliness and attention to duty in entering a protest against the hazing."

"I thank you very much, sir," Dave Darrin answered. "However, much as I long to remain in the Navy, I do not want to hide behind a misunderstanding. While I spoke against the hazing, candor compels me to admit that I did not protest so vigorously but that more hazing went on immediately."

"That I can quite understand," nodded the superintendent. "I am aware of the disinclination of the members of one upper class to interfere with the members of another upper class. The fact that you made a protest at all is what has convinced me that yourself and Mr. Dalzell were in the room at the time with a worthy instead of an unworthy motive. Worthy motives are not punished at the Naval Academy, Mr. Darrin. For that reason yourself and Mr. Dalzell are restored to full duty and privileges. That is all, gentlemen."

Thus dismissed, Dave and Dan could not, without impertinence, remain longer in the room.

There was wild joy in the second class when it was found that the class leaders, Darrin and Dalzell, had escaped from the worst scrape they had been in at Annapolis.

Eaton, Hough and Paulson, of the third class, proved to have been the ringleaders in the hazing. They were summarily dismissed from the Naval Academy, while the other six youngsters implicated in the affair all came in for severe punishments that fell short of dismissal.

After that matters went on smoothly enough for the balance of the term. Dave, Dan, Joyce, Farley, Page, Jetson and all their closest intimates in the class succeeded in passing their annual examinations. Jetson, in addition, had made good in his new role of amiable fellow.

As these young men, now new first classmen, stood on the deck of a battleship, watching the Naval Academy fade astern, at the beginning of the summer cruise, Dave Darrin turned to his friends, remarking wistfully:

"Fellows, if we get through one more year of it without falling down, we shall then be putting to sea once more, and then as graduated midshipmen, afloat in our effort to win our ensign's commissions!"

How did they come out?

The answer must be deferred to the next and last volume of this series, which is published under the title, "Dave Darrin's Fourth Year At Annapolis; Or, Headed for Graduation and the Big Cruise."

THE END

DAVE DARRIN'S FOURTH YEAR AT ANNAPOLIS

or

Headed for Graduation and the Big Cruise

CONTENTS

I. Wanted—A Doughface!

II. Some One Pushes the Tungsten

III. Bad News from West Point

IV. Dave's Work Goes Stale

V. Dan Hands Himself Bad Money

VI. The "Forgot" Path to Trouble

VII. Dan's Eyes Jolt His Wits

VIII. The Prize Trip on the "Dodger"

IX. The Treachery of Morton

X. "We Belong to the Navy, Too!"

XI. A Quarter's Worth of Hope

XII. Ready to Trim West Point

XIII. When "Brace Up, Army!" was the Word

XIV. The Navy Goat Grins

XV. Dan Feels as "Sold" as He Looks

XVI. The Day of Many Doubts

XVII. Mr. Clairy Deals in Outrages

XVIII. The Whole Class Takes a Hand

XIX. Midshipman Darrin Has the Floor

XX. Dan Steers on the Rocks Again

XXI. In the Thick of Disaster

XXII. The Search at the Bottom of the Bay

XXIII. Graduation Day—At Last

XXIV. Conclusion

I. WANTED—A DOUGHFACE!

"Now, then, Danny boy, we——"

First Classman Dave Darrin, midshipman at the United States Naval Academy, did not finish what he was about to say.

While speaking he had closed the door behind him and had stepped into the quarters occupied jointly by himself and by Midshipman Daniel Dalzell, also of the first or upper class.

"Danny boy isn't here. Visiting, probably," mused Dave Darrin, after having glanced into the alcove bedroom at his right hand.

It was a Saturday night, early in October. The new academic year at the Naval Academy was but a week old. There being no "hop" that night the members of the brigade had their time to spend as they pleased. Some of the young men would need the time sadly to put in at their new studies. Dave, fortunately, did not feel under any necessity to spend his leisure in grinding over text-books.

Dave glanced at his study desk, though he barely saw the pile of text-books neatly piled up there.

"No letters to write tonight," he thought "I was going to loan Danny boy one of my two new novels. No matter; if he'd rather visit let him do so."

In the short interval of recreation that had followed the evening meal Dave had missed his home chum and roommate, but had thought nothing of it. Nor was Dave now really disappointed over the present prospect of having an hour or two by himself. He went to a one-shelf book rack high overhead and pulled down one of his two recent novels.

"If I want Danny boy at any time I fancy I have only to step as far as Page's room," mused Dave, as he seated himself by his desk.

An hour slipped by without interruption. An occasional burst of laughter floated down the corridor. At some distance away, on the same deck of barracks in Bancroft Hall, a midshipman was industriously twanging away on a banjo. Darrin, however, absorbed in his novel, paid no heed to any of the signs of Saturday-night jollity. He was a third of the way through an exciting tale when there came a knock on the door—a moment later a head was thrust in.

Midshipman Farley's head was thrust inside.

"All alone, Darry?" called Mr. Farley.

"Yes," Dave answered, laying his novel aside after having thrust an envelope between pages to hold the place. "Come in, Farl."

"Where's Dalzell?" inquired Farley, after having closed the door behind him.

"Until this moment I thought that he was in your room."

"I haven't seen him all evening," Farley responded. "Page and I have been yawning ourselves to death."

"Danny boy is visiting some other crowd, then," guessed Darrin. "He will probably be along soon. Did you want to see him about anything in particular?"

"Oh, no. I came here to escape being bored to death by Page, and poor old Pagey has just fled to Wilson's room to escape being bored by me. What are these Saturday evenings for, anyway, when there's no way of spending them agreeably?"

"For a good many of the men, who want to get through," smiled Dave, "Saturday evening is a heaven-sent chance to do a little more studying against a blue next week. As for Danny boy, I imagine he must have carried his grin up to Wilson's room. Or, maybe, to Jetson's. Danny has plenty of harbors where he's welcome to cast his anchor."

"May I sit down?" queried Mr. Farley.

"Surely, Furl, and with my heartiest apologies for having been too dull to push a chair toward you."

"I can easily help myself," laughed the other midshipman, "since there's only one other chair in the room."

"What have you and Page been talking about tonight?" asked Dave.

"Why do you want to know?"

"So that I won't run the risk of boring you by talking oh the same subject."

"Well," confessed Midshipman Farley, "we've been talking about this season's football."

"Oh, dear!" sighed Darrin. "That's the only topic really worth talking about."

"Speaking of football," resumed Farley, "don't you believe that we have a stronger eleven than we had last year!"

"If we haven't we ought to walk the plank," retorted Dave. "You remember how the Army walloped us last year?"

"That was because the Army team had Prescott and Holmes on it," rejoined Farley quickly.

"Well, they'll have 'em this year, too, won't they?

"So Prescott and Holmes are to be out for the Army this year!"

"I haven't heard anything definite on that head," Dave answered. "But I take it as a matter of course that Prescott and Holmes will play once more with the Army. They're West Point men, and they know their duty."

"What wonders that pair are!" murmured Farley with reluctant admiration for the star players of the United States Military Academy. "Yet, after all, Darry, I can't for the life of me see where Prescott and Holmes are in any way superior to yourself and Dan Dalzell."

"Except," smiled Dave, "that Prescott and Holmes, last year, got by us a good deal oftener than we got by them—and so the Army lugged off the score from Franklin Field."

"But you won't let 'em do it this year, Darry!"

"Dan and I will do all we can to stop our oldtime chums, now of the Army," agreed Dave. "But they're a hard pair to beat. Any one who saw Prescott and Holmes play last year will agree that they're a hard pair of nuts for the Navy to crack."

"We've got to beat the Army this year," Farley protested plaintively.

"I certainly hope we shall do so."

"Darry, what is your candid opinion of Wolgast?"

"As a man?"

"You know better!"

"As a midshipman?"

"Darry, stop your nonsense! You know well enough that I'm asking your opinion of Wolgast as captain of the Navy eleven."

"He seems inclined to be fair and just to every member of the squad, so what more can you ask of him."

"But do you think he's any real good, Darry, as captain for the Navy?"

"I do."

"We ought to have had you for captain of the team, Darry," insisted Farley.

"So two or three other fellows thought," admitted Dave. "But I refused to take that post, as you know, and I'm glad I did."

"Oh, come, now!

"Yes; I'm glad I refused. A captain should be in mid-field. Now, if Dalzell and I are any good at all on the gridiron——"

"Oh, Mr. Modesty!"

"If we're of any use at all," pursued Darrin, "it's only on the flank. Now, where would the Navy be with a captain directing from the right or left flank."

"Darry, you funker, you could play center as well as Wolgast does."

"Farl, you're letting your prejudices spoil your eyesight."

"Oh, I've no prejudice at all against Wolgast," Farley hastened to rejoin. "Only I don't consider him our strongest man for captain. Now, Wolgast——"

"Here!" called a laughing voice. The door had opened, after a knock that Darrin had not noticed.

"Talking about me?" inquired Midshipman Wolgast pleasantly, as he stopped in the middle of the room.

Midshipman Farley was nothing at all on the order of the backbiter. Service in the Brigade of Midshipmen for three years had taught him the virtue of direct truth.

"Yes, Wolly," admitted Farley without embarrassment. "I was criticizing your selection as captain of the eleven."

"Nothing worse than that?" laughed First Classman Wolgast.

"I was saying—no offense, Wolly—that I didn't consider you the right man to head the Navy eleven."

Midshipman Wolgast stepped over to Farley, holding out his right hand.

"Shake, Farl! I'm glad to find a man of brains on the eleven. I know well enough that I'm not the right captain. But we couldn't make Darry accept the post."

Midshipman Wolgast appeared anything but hurt by the direct candor with which he had been treated. He now threw one leg over the corner of the study table, though he inquired:

"Am I interrupting anything private?"

"Not in the least," Dave assured him.

"Am I intruding in any way?"

"Not a bit of it," Darrin answered heartily "We're glad to have you here with us."

"Surely," nodded Farley.

"Now, then, as to my well known unfitness to command the Navy football team," continued First Classman Wolgast, "do either of you see any faults in me that can be remedied?"

"I can't," Dave answered. "I believe, Wolly, that you can lead the team as well as any other man in the squad. On the whole, I believe you can lead a little better than any other man could do."

"No help from your quarter, then, Darry," sighed Midshipman Wolgast. "Farl, help me out. Tell me some way in which I can improve my fitness for the post of honor that has been thrust upon me. I assure you I didn't seek it."

"Wolgast, my objection to you has nothing personal in it," Farley went on. "With me it is a case simply of believing that Darry could lead us on the gridiron much better than you're likely to."

"That I know," retorted Wolgast, with emphasis. "But what on earth are we going to do with a fellow like Darrin? He simply won't allow himself to be made captain. I'd resign this minute, if we could have Darry for our captain."

"You're going to do all right, Wolgast. I know you are," Dave rejoined.

"Then what's the trouble? Why don't I suit all hands?" demanded the Navy's football captain.

Darrin was silent for a few moments. The midshipmen visitors waited patiently, knowing that, from this comrade, they could be sure of a wholly candid reply.

"Have you found the answer, Darry?" pressed Wolgast at last.

"Yes," said Dave slowly; "I think I have. The reason, as I see it, is that there are no decidedly star players on this year's probable eleven. The men are all pretty nearly equal, which doesn't give you a chance to tower head and shoulders above the other players. Usually, in the years that I know anything of, it has been the other way. There have been only two or three star players in the squad, and the captain was usually one of the very best. You're plenty good enough football man, Wolgast, but there are so many other pretty good ones that you don't outshine the others as much as captains of poorer teams have done in other years."

"By Jupiter! Darry has hit it!" cried Farley, leaping from his seat. "Wolly, you have the luck to command an eleven in which most of the men are nearly, if not quite, as good as the captain. You're not head and shoulders over the rest, and you don't tower—that's all. Wolly, I apologize for my criticisms. Darry has shown me the truth."

"Then you look for a big slaughter list for us this year, Darry?" Wolgast asked.

"Yes; unless the other elevens that we're to play improve as much as the Navy is going to do."

At this moment Page and Jetson rapped and then entered. Ten minutes later there were fully twenty midshipmen in the room, all talking animatedly on the one subject at the United States Naval Academy in October—football.

So the time sped. Dave lost his chance to read his novel, but he did not mind the loss. It was Jetson who, at last, discovered the time.

"Whew, fellows!" he muttered. "Only ten minutes to taps."

That sent most of the midshipmen scuttling away. Page and Farley, however, whose quarters were but a few doors away on the same deck, remained.

"Farl," murmured Darrin, "for the first time tonight I'm feeling a bit worried."

"Over Danny?"

"The same."

"What's up?" Page wanted to know.

"Why, he hasn't been around all evening. Surely Dalzell would be coming back by this time, unless——"

"Didn't he have leave to visit town?" demanded Midshipman Page.

"Not that I've heard of," Dave Darrin answered quickly. "Nor do I see how he could have done so. You see, Wednesday he received some demerits, and with them went the loss of privileges for October."

"Whew!" whistled Page.

"What?" demanded Dave, his alarm increasing.

"Why, not long after supper I saw Danny heading toward the wall on the town side."

"I have been afraid of that for the last two or three minutes," exclaimed Dave Darrin, his uneasiness now showing very plainly. "Dan didn't say a word to me about going anywhere, but——"

"You think, leave being impossible, Danny has Frenched it over the wall?" demanded Farley.

"That's just what I'm afraid of," returned Dave.

"But why——"

"I don't know any reason."

"Then——"

"Farl", broke in Dave hurriedly, almost fiercely, "has anyone a doughface?"

"Yes."

"Who has it?"

"I don't know."

"Find it—on the jump!"

"But——"

"There's no time for 'buts,'" retorted Darrin, pushing Farley toward the door. "Find it!"

"And I——" added Page, springing toward the door.

"You'll stay here," ordered Dave.

Darrin was already headed toward his friend's alcove, where Dalzell's cot lay. Page followed.

"The dummy," explained Darrin briefly.

Every midshipman at Annapolis, doubtless, is familiar with the dummy. Not so many, probably, are familiar with the doughface, which, at the time this is written, was a new importation.

Swiftly Dave and Page worked. First they turned down the clothing, after having hurriedly made up the cot. Now, from among the garments hanging on the wall nearby the two midshipmen took down the garments that normally lay under others. With these they rigged up a figure not unlike that of a human being. At least, it looked so after the bed clothes had been drawn up in place.

Then, glancing at the time, Dave Darrin waited—breathless.

Farley hastened into the room without losing time by knocking. Under one arm he bore, half hidden, some roundish object, wrapped in a towel.

Without a word, but with a heart full of gratitude, Dave Darrin snatched out from its wrapping the effigy of a male human head. It was done in wax, with human hair on the head.

Dave Darrin neatly fitted this at the top of the outlines of a figure under the bed clothing.

Under the full light the doughface looked ghostly. In a dimmer light it would do very well.

"Thank you a thousand times, fellows," trembled Dave Darrin. "Now hustle to your own quarters before the first stroke of taps sounds."

The two useful visitors were gone like a flash. Ere they had quite closed the door, Dave Darrin was removing his own uniform and hanging up trousers and blouse. Next off came the underclothing and on went pajamas.

Just then taps sounded. Out went the electric light, turned off at the master switch.

Dave Darrin dived under the bed clothes on his own cot and tried to still the beating of his own heart.

Two minutes later a brisk step sounded on the corridor of the "deck."

Door after door was opened and closed. Then the door to Dave's room swung open, and a discipline officer and a midshipman looked into the room.

"All in?" the midshipman called.

A light snore from Dave Darrin's throat answered. In his left hand the discipline officer carried an electric pocket light. A pressure of a button would supply a beam of electric light that would explore the bed of either midshipman supposed to be in this room.

But the officer saw Midshipman Darrin plainly enough, thanks to beams of light from the corridor. Over in the opposite alcove the discipline officer made out, more vaguely, the lay figure and the doughface intended to represent Midshipman Dan Dalzell.

"Both in. Darrin and Dalzell never give us any trouble, at any rate," thought the discipline officer to himself, then closed the door, and his footsteps sounded further down the corridor.

"Oh, Danny boy, I wish I had you here right at this minute!" muttered Dave Darrin vengefully. "Maybe I wouldn't whang your head off for the fright that you've given me! I'll wager half of my hairs have turned gray in the last minute!"

However, Midshipman Dan Dalzell was not there, as Darrin knew to his own consternation. Dave did not go to sleep. Well enough he knew that he was on duty indefinitely through the hours until Dan should return. If Midshipman Darrin fell into a doze this night he would be as bad as any sentry falling asleep on any other post.

So Darrin lay there and fidgeted. Twenty times he tried to solve, in his own mind, the riddle of why Dalzell should be away, and where he was. But it was a hopeless puzzle.

"Of course, Danny didn't hint that he was going to French it tonight," thought Dave bitterly. "Good reason why, too! He knew that, if I got wind of his intention, I'd thrash him sooner than let him take such a chance. Oh, Dan! Dan, you idiot! To take such a fool chance in your last year here, when detection probably means your being dropped from brigade, and your career ended!"

For Dave Darrin knew the way of discipline officers too well to imagine that that one brief inspection of the room was positively all the look-in that would be offered that night. Some discipline officers have a way of looking in often during the night. Being themselves graduates of the Naval Academy, officers are sure to know that the inspection immediately after taps does not always suffice. Midshipmen have been known to be in bed at taps, and visiting in quarters of other midshipmen ten minutes later. True, the electric light in rooms is turned off at taps—but midshipmen have been known to keep candles hidden, and to be experts in clouding doors and windows so that no ray of light gets through into a corridor after taps.

Just how often discipline officers were accustomed to look in through the night, Dave Darrin did not know from his own knowledge. Usually, at the times of such extra visits, Darrin was too blissfully asleep.

Tonight, however, despite the darkness of the room at present, Dave lay wide awake. No sleep for him before daylight—perhaps not then—unless Dan turned up in the meantime.

After an interval that seemed several nights long, the dull old bell of the clock over on academic Hall began tolling. Dave listened and counted. He gave an almost incredulous snort when the total stopped at eleven.

Then another long period of waiting. Darrin did not grow drowsy. On the contrary, he became more wide awake. In fact, he began to imagine that he was becoming possessed of the vision of the cat. Dark as it was in the room, Dave began to feel certain that he could distinguish plainly the ghostly figure of the saving doughface in the alcove opposite.

Twelve o'clock struck. Then more waiting. It was not so very long, this time, however, before there came a faint tapping at the window.

Dave Darrin was out of bed as though he had been shot out. Like a flash he was at the window, peering out. Where, after all, was the cat's vision of which he had thought himself possessed? Some one was outside the window. Dave thought he recognized the Naval uniform, but he could not see a line of the face.

Tap-tap-tap! sounded softly. Dave threw the window up stealthily.

"You, Dan?" he whispered.

"Of course," came the soft answer. "Stand aside. Let me in—on the double-quick!"

Dave pushed the window up the balance of the way, then stepped aside. Dan Dalzell landed on his feet in the room, cat-like, from the terrace without. Then Dave, without loss of an instant, closed the window and wheeled about in the darkness.

"Hustle!" commanded Dave.

"What about?"

"Get off your uniform! Get into pajamas. Then I'll——"

Dave's jaws snapped together resolutely. He did not finish, just then, for he knew that Midshipman Dalzell could be very stubborn at times.

"I'll have a light in a jiffy," whispered Dan "I brought back a candle with me."

"You won't use it—not in here," retorted Dave. "The dark is light enough for you. Hustle into your pajamas."

Perhaps Midshipman Dalzell did not make all the speed that his roommate desired, but at last Dan was safely rid of his uniform, underclothing and shoes, and stood arrayed in pajamas.

"Now, I'll hide this doughface over night," whispered Darrin, going toward Dalzell's bed. "At the same time you get the articles of your equipment out from under your bed clothes and hang them up where they belong."

"I'll have to light the candle for that," muttered Dan.

"If you do, I'll blow it out. There's a regulation against running lights in the rooms after taps."

"Do you worship the little blue-covered volume of regulations, Dave?" Dan demanded with a laugh.

"No; but I don't propose to take any chances in my last year here. I don't intend to lose my commission in the Navy just because I can't control myself."

Dan sniffed, but he silently got his parts of uniform out from between the sheets and hung up the articles where they belonged, in this going by the sense of feeling.

Then, all in the dark as they were, Midshipman Dave Darrin seized his chum and roommate by the shoulders.

"Danny boy," he commanded firmly, "come over with an account of yourself! Why this mad prank tonight—and what was it?"

II. SOME ONE PUSHES THE TUNGSTEN

You don't have to know every blessed thing that I do, do you?" demanded Dan Dalzell, in an almost offended tone.

"No; and I have no right to know anything that you don't tell me willingly. Are you ready to give me any explanation of tonight's foolishness?

"Seeing that you kept awake for me, and were on hand to let me in, I suppose I'll have to," grumbled Dan.

"Well, then?

"Dave, for the first time tonight, I struck my flag."

"Struck to whom?"

"Oh—a girl, of course," grunted Dan.

"You? A girl?" repeated Dave in amazement.

"Yes; is it any crime for me to get acquainted with a girl, and to call on her at her home?"

"Certainly not. But, Dan, I didn't believe that you ever felt a single flutter of the pulse when girls were around. I thought you were going to grow up into a cheerful, happy old bachelor."

"So did I," sighed Dan.

"And now you've gone and met your fate?"

"I'm not so sure about that," Dalzell retorted moodily.

"Do you mean that you don't stand any real show in front of the pair of bright eyes that have made you strike your colors?"

"I'm afraid I don't."

"Dan, is the game worth the candle," argued Darrin.

"You're mightily interested in Belle Meade, aren't you?"

"Yes; but that's different, Danny boy."

"How is it different, I'd like to know?"

"Well, in the first place, there's no guesswork in my case. Belle and I are engaged, and we feel perfectly sure each of the other. I'm so sure of Belle that I dream about her only in my leisure moments. I don't ever let her face come between myself and the pages of a textbook. I am here at the Naval Academy working for a future that Belle is to share with me when the time comes, and so, in justice to her, I don't let the thought of her get between myself and the duties that will lead to the career she is to share with me."

"Humph!" commented Midshipman Dalzell.

"Above all, Dan, I've never Frenched it over the wall. I don't take any disciplinary chances that can possibly shut me off from the career that Belle and I have planned. Belle Meade, Danny boy, would be the first to scold me if she knew that I had Frenched it over the wall in order to meet her."

"Well, Miss Preston doesn't know but what I had regular leave tonight," Danny replied.

"Miss Preston?" repeated Dave his interest taking a new tack. "I don't believe I know her."

"I guess you don't," Dan replied. "She's new in Annapolis. Visiting her uncle and aunt, you know. And her mother's with her."

"Are your intentions serious in this, Danny?" Darrin went on.

"Blessed if I know," Dalzell answered candidly. "She's a mighty fine girl, is May Preston. I don't suppose I'll ever be lucky enough to win the regard of such a really fine girl."

"Then you aren't engaged?"

"Hang it, man! This evening is only the second time that I've met Miss Preston."

"And you've risked your commission to meet a girl for the second time?" Dave demanded almost unbelievingly.

"I haven't risked it much," Dan answered. "I'm in safe, now, and ready to face any discipline officer."

"But wouldn't this matter wait until November, when you're pretty sure to have the privilege of town leave again?" pressed Midshipman Darrin.

"By November a girl like Miss Preston might be married to some one else," retorted Dan Dalzell.

"It was a fool risk to take, Dan!"

"If you look at it that way."

"Will you promise me not to take the risk again, Danny boy?"

"No."

"It's a serious affair, then, so far as you are concerned," grinned Dave, though in the dark Dan could not see his face. "For your sake, Danny, I hope Miss Preston is as much interested in you as you certainly are in her."

"Are you going to lecture me?"

"Not tonight, Dan."

"Then I'm going to get in between sheets. It's chilly here in the room."

"Duck!" whispered Dave with sudden energy.

Footsteps could be heard coming down the corridor. It was a noise like a discipline officer.

Three doors above that of the room occupied by our midshipman friends were opened, one after the other. Then a hand rested on the knob of the door to Dave and Dan's room. The door was opened, and the rays of a pocket electric light flashed into the room.

Dan lay on one side, an arm thrown out of bed, his breathing regular but a trifle loud. Dave Darrin had again found recourse to a snore.

In an instant the door closed. Any discipline officer ought to be satisfied with what this one had seen.

"Safe!" chuckled Dalzell.

"An awfully close squeak," whispered Dave across the intervening room.

"What if he had started his rounds ten minutes earlier?"

"He didn't, though," replied Dan contentedly.

Now another set of footsteps passed hurriedly along the "deck" outside.

"What's that?" questioned a voice sharply. "You say that you saw some one entering a room from the upper end of the terrace?"

"Oh, by George," groaned Dan Dalzell, now beginning to shiver in earnest. "Some meddling marine sentry has gone and whispered tales."

"Keep a stiff upper lip," Dave whispered hoarsely, encouragingly. "If the officer returns don't give yourself away by your shaking."

"But if he asks me?"

"If you're asked a direct question," sighed Dave mournfully, "you'll have to give a truthful answer."

"And take my medicine!"

"Of course."

That annoying discipline officer was now on his way back, opening doors once more. Moreover, the two very wide-awake midshipmen could hear him asking questions in the rooms further along the "deck."

"He's questioning each man," whispered Dave.

"Of course," nodded Dan gloomily.

"It'll be our turn soon."

"D-D-Dave!"

"What?"

"I—I'm feeling ill—or I'm going to."

"Don't have cold feet, old fellow. Take your dose like a man—if you have to."

"D-Dave, I wonder if I couldn't have a real sickness? Couldn't it be something so you'll have to jump up and help me to hospital? Couldn't I have—a—a fit?"

"A midshipman subject to fits would be ordered before a medical board, and then dropped from the brigade," Dave replied thoughtfully. "No; that wouldn't do."

That meddling discipline officer was getting closer and closer. Dave and Dan could hear him asking questions in each room that he visited. And there are no "white lies" possible to a midshipman. When questioned he must answer truthfully. If the officers over him catch him in a lie they will bring him up before a court-martial, and his dismissal from the service will follow. If the officers don't catch him in a lie, but his brother midshipmen do, they won't report him, but they'll ostracize him and force him to resign. A youngster with the untruthful habit can find no happiness at the Naval Academy.

"He—he's in the next room now," whispered Dan across the few feet of space.

"Yes," returned Dave Darrin despairingly, "and I can't think of a single, blessed way of getting you out of the scrape."

"Woof!" sputtered Midshipman Dan Dalzell, which was a brief way of saying, "Here he comes, now, for our door."

Then a hand rested on the knob and the door swung open. Lieutenant Adams, U.S.N., entered the room.

"Mr. Darrin, are you awake?" boomed the discipline officer.

Dave stirred in bed, rolled over so that he could see the lieutenant, and then replied:

"Yes, sir."

"Rise, Mr. Darrin, and come to attention."

Dave got out of bed, but purposely stumbled in doing so. This might give the impression that he had been actually awakened.

"Mr. Darrin," demanded Lieutenant Adams, "have you been absent from this room tonight?"

"Yes, sir."

"After taps was sounded?"

"No, sir."

"You are fully aware of what you have answered?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very good."

That was all. A midshipman's word must be taken, for he is a gentleman—that is to say, a man of honor.

"Mr. Dalzell!"

Poor Dan stirred uneasily.

"Mr. Dalzell!" This time the Naval officer's voice was sharper.

Dan acted as though he were waking with difficulty. He had no intention, in the face of a direct question, of denying that he had been absent without leave. But he moved thus slowly, hoping desperately that the few seconds of time thus rained would be sufficient to bring to him some inspiration that might save him.

"Mr Dalzell, come to attention!"

Dan stood up, the personification of drowsiness, saluted, then let his right hand fall at his side and stood blinking, bracing for them correct military attitude.

"It's too bad to disturb the boy!" thought Lieutenant Adams. "Surely, this young man hasn't been anywhere but in bed since taps."

None the less the Naval officer, as a part of his duty, put the question:

"Mr. Dalzell, have you, since taps, been out of this room? Did you return, let us say, by the route of the open window from the terrace?"

Midshipman Dalzell stiffened. He didn't intend to betray his own honor by denying, yet he hated to let out the admission that would damage him so much.

Bang! It was an explosion like a crashing pistol shot, and it sounded from the corridor outside.

There could be no such thing as an assault at arms in guarded Bancroft Hall. The first thought that flashed, excitedly, through Lieutenant Adams's mind was that perhaps the real delinquent guilty of the night's escapade had just shot himself. It was a wild guess, but a pistol shot sometimes starts a wilder guess.

Out into the corridor darted Lieutenant Adams. He did not immediately return to the room, so Dave Darrin, with rare and desperate presence of mind, closed the door.

"Get back into the meadow grass, Danny boy," Darrin whispered, giving his friend's arm a hard grip. "If the 'loot'nant' comes back, get up fearfully drowsy when he orders you. Gape and look too stupid to apologize!"

Lieutenant Adams, however, had other matters to occupy his attention. There was a genuine puzzle for him in the corridor. Just out, side the door of Midshipmen Farley and Page there lay on the floor tiny glass fragments of what had been an efficient sixty-candle-power tungsten electric bulb. It was one of the lights that illuminated the corridor.

Now one of these tungsten bulbs, when struck smartly, explodes with a report like that of a pistol.

At this hour of the night, however, there were none passing save Naval officers on duty. None other than the lieutenant himself had lately passed in the corridor. How, then, had this electric light bulb been shattered and made to give forth the sound of the explosion?

"It wouldn't go up with a noise like that," murmured the lieutenant to himself. "These tungsten lights don't explode like that, except when rapped in some way. They don't blow up, when left alone. At least, that is what I have always understood."

So the puzzle waxed and grew, and Lieutenant Adams found it too big to solve alone.

"At any rate, I've questioned all the young gentlemen about the window episode, and they all deny knowledge of it," Lieutenant Adams told himself. "So I'll just report that fact to the O.C., and at the same time I'll tell him of the blowing up of this tungsten light."

Two minutes later Lieutenant Adams stood in the presence of Lieutenant-Commander Henderson, the officer in charge.

"So you questioned all of the midshipmen who might, by any chance, have entered by a window?" asked the O.C.

"Yes, sir."

"And they all denied it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you see signs of any sort to lead you to believe that any of the midshipmen might have answered in other than the strict truth?" continued the O.C.

"No, sir," replied Lieutenant Adams, and flushed slightly, as he went on: "Of course, sir, I believe it quite impossible for a midshipman to tell an untruth."

"The sentiment does you credit, Lieutenant," smiled the O.C. Then he fell to questioning the younger discipline officer as to the names of the midshipmen whom he had questioned. Finally the O.C. came to the two names in which the reader is most interested.

"Darrin denied having been out after taps?" questioned Lieutenant-Commander Henderson.

"He did, sir."

"Did Mr. Dalzell also deny having been out of quarters after taps?"

"He did, sir."

Lieutenant Adams answered unhesitatingly and unblushingly. In fact, Lieutenant Adams would have bitten off the tip of his tongue sooner than have lied intentionally. So firmly convinced had Adams been that Dan was about to make a denial that now, with the incident broken in two by the report of the tungsten bulb, Lieutenant Adams really believed that had so denied. But Dan had not, and had Dave Darrin been called as a witness he would been compelled to testify that Dan did not deny being out.

The explosion of the tungsten bulb was too great a puzzle for either officer to solve. A man was sent with a new bulb, and so that part of the affair became almost at once forgotten.

Dan finally fell into a genuine sleep, and so did Dave Darrin. In the morning Dave sought out Midshipman Farley to inquire to whom the doughface should be returned.

"Give it over to me and I'll take care of it," Farley replied. "Say, did you hear a tungsten bulb blow up in the night!"

"Did It" echoed Darrin devoutly. Then a sudden suspicion crossed his mind.

"Say, how did that happen, Farl?" demanded Dave.

"If anyone should ask you——" began the other midshipman.

"Yes——?" pressed Darrin.

"Tell 'em—that you don't know," finished Farley tantalizingly, and vanished.

It was not until long after that Darrin found out the explanation of the accident to the tungsten bulb. Farley, during Dan's absence, had been almost as much disturbed as had Dave. So Mr. Farley was wide awake. When he heard Lieutenant Adams receive the message in the corridor Farley began to wonder what he could do. Presently he was made to rise, with Page, stand at attention, and answer the questions of the discipline officer.

Soon after Dave and Dan were called up, Farley, listening with his door ajar half an inch, slipped out and hit the tungsten burner a smart rap just in the nick of time to save Dan Dalzell's Navy uniform to that young man.

III. BAD NEWS FROM WEST POINT

Bump! The ball, hit squarely by the toe of Wolgast's football shoe, soared upward from the twenty-five-yard line. It described an arc, flying neatly over and between the goal-posts at one end of the athletic field.

"That's the third one for you, Wolly," murmured Jetson. "You're going to be a star kicker!"

"Shall I try out the rest of the squad, sir?" asked Wolgast, turning to Lieutenant-Commander Parker, this year's new coach.

"Try out a dozen or so of the men," nodded coach, which meant, in effect: "Try out men who are most likely to remain on the Navy team."

"Jetson!" called Wolgast.

Jet tried, but it took his third effort to make a successful kick.

"You see, Wolly, who is not to be trusted to make the kick in a game," remarked Jetson with a rueful smile.

"It shows me who may need practice more than some of the others—that's all," answered Wolgast kindly.

With that the ball went to Dave. The first kick he missed.

"I can do better than that, if you'll give me the chance," observed Darrin quietly.

At a nod from Coach Parker, Dave was allowed five more trials, in each one of which he made a fair kick.

"Mr. Darrin is all right. He won't need to practice that very often, Mr. Wolgast," called coach.

Then Dan had his try. He made one out of three.

"No matter, Danny Grin," cried Page solacingly, "we love you for other things that you can do better on the field."

Farley made two out of three. Page, though a rattling good man over on the right flank, missed all three kicks.

"I'm a dub at kicking," he growled, retiring in much disgust with himself.

Other midshipmen had their try, with varying results.

"Rustlers, forward!" shouted Lieutenant-Commander Parker.

Eleven young fellows who had been waiting with more or less patience now threw aside their blankets or robes and came running across the field, their eyes dancing with keen delight.

"Mr. Wolgast, let the Rustlers start the ball—and take it away from 'em in snappy fashion!" admonished coach.

The game started. In the second team at Annapolis there were some unusually good players—half a dozen, at least, who were destined to win a good deal of praise as subs. that year.

Tr-r-r-r-ill! sounded the whistle, and the ball was in motion.

Yet, try as he did, the captain of the Rustlers made a side kick, driving the ball not far out of Dave Darrin's way. It was coming, now, in Dan's path, but Dalzell muttered in a barely audible undertone:

"You, Davy!"

So Darrin, playing left end on the Navy team, darted in and caught the ball. He did not even glance sideways to learn where Dan was. He knew that Dalzell would be either at his back or right elbow as occasion demanded.

"Take it away from Darry!" called Pierson, captain of the Rustlers. "Block him!"

The scores of spectators lining the sides of the field were watching with keenest interest.

It was rumored that Dave and Dan had some new trick play hidden up their sleeves.

Yet, with two men squarely in the path of Darrin it seemed incredible that he could get by, for the Rustlers had bunched their interference skillfully at this point.

"Darry will have to stop!" yelled a score of voices at once, as Dave bounded at his waiting opponents.

"Yah, yah, yah!"

"Wow!"

"Whoop!"

The spectators had been treated to a sight that they never forgot.

Just as Dave reached those who blocked him he seemed to falter. It was Dan Dalzell who bumped in and received the opposition alone. Dan went down under it, all glory to him!

But Dave, in drawing back as he had done, had stepped aside like lightning, and now he had gone so far that he had no opposing end to dodge.

Instead, he darted straight ahead, leaving all of the forward line of the Rustlers behind.

But there was the back field to meet!

As Dave shot forward, Jetson, too, smashed over the line, blocking the halfback who got in his way.

Straight over the line charged Dave Darrin, and laid the ball down.

Now the athletic field resounded with excited yells. Annapolis had seen "a new one," and it caught the popular fancy like lightning.

Back the pigskin was carried, and placed for the kick.

"You take it, Darry," called Wolgast. "You've earned it!"

"Take it yourself, Wolly," replied Dave Darrin. "This is your strong point."

So Wolgast kicked and scored. The Rustlers at first looked dismayed over it all, but in another instant a cheer had broken loose from them.

It was the business of the Rustlers to harry the Navy team all they could—to beat the Navy, if possible, for the Rustlers received their name from the fact that they were expected to make the team members rustle to keep their places.

Just the same the Rustlers were delighted to find themselves beaten by a trick so simple and splendid that it fairly took their breath away. For it was the Navy team, not the Rustlers, who met the enemy from the colleges and from West Point. Rustlers and team men alike prayed for the triumph of the Navy in every game that was fought out.

"You never told me that you had that trick, Darry," muttered Wolgast, in the rest that followed this swift, brilliant play.

"I wanted to show it to you before telling you about it" laughed Dave.

"Why?"

"Because I didn't know whether it were any good."

"Any good? Why, Darry, if you can get up one or two more like that you'll be the greatest gridiron tactician that the Navy has ever had!"

"I didn't get up that one," Dave confessed modestly.

"You didn't, Mr. Darrin?" interposed Coach Parker. "Who did?"

"Mr. Jetson, sir."

"I helped a bit," admitted Jetson, turning red as he found himself the center of admiring gazes. "Dalzell and Darrin helped work it out, too."

"Have you any more like that one, Mr. Darrin?" questioned Coach Parker.

"I think we have a few, sir," Dave smiled steadily.

"Are you ready to exhibit them, Mr. Darrin?"

"We'll show 'em all, if you order it, sir," Darrin answered respectfully. "But we'll undoubtedly spring two or three of 'em, anyway, in this afternoon's practice."

"I'll be patient, then," nodded coach. "But I want a brief talk with you after practice, Mr. Darrin."

"Very good, sir."

"I just want you to sketch out the new plays to me in private, that I may consider them," explained the lieutenant-commander.

"Yes, sir. But I am not really the originator of any of the new plays. Mr. Dalzell and Mr. Jetson have had as much to do with all of the new ones as I have, sir."

"And this is Darrin's last year! The Navy will never have his like again," groaned one fourth classman to another.

"Ready to resume play!" called coach. "Navy to start the ball."

The play was on again, in earnest, but this time it fell to the right flank of, the Navy team to stop the onward rush of the Rustlers as they charged down with the ball after the Navy's kick-off.

In fact, not during the team practice did Dave or Dan get a chance to show another of their new tricks.

"Just our luck!" grunted many of the spectators.

Meanwhile Dave, Dan and Jet got out of their togs, and through with their shower baths as quickly as they could, for Lieutenant-Commander Parker was on hand, awaiting them impatiently.

Until close to supper call did the coach hold converse with these three men of the Navy's left flank. Then the lieutenant-commander went to Midshipman Wolgast, who was waiting.

"Mr. Wolgast, I see the Army's banner trailed low in the dust this year," laughed coach. "These young gentlemen have been explaining to me some new plays that will cause wailing and gnashing of teeth at West Point."

"I'm afraid, sir, that you forget one thing," smiled Darrin.

"What is that, sir?" demanded coach.

"Why, sir, the Army has Prescott and Holmes, beyond a doubt, for they played last year."

"I saw Prescott and Holmes last year," nodded Mr. Parker. "But they didn't have a thing to compare with what you've just been explaining to me."

"May I remark, sir, that that was last year?" suggested Dave.

"Then you think that Prescott and Holmes may have developed some new plays."

"I'd be amazed, sir, if they hadn't done so. And I've tried to have the Navy always bear in mind, sir, that Dalzell and myself learned everything we know of football under Dick Prescott, who, for his weight, I believe to be the best football player in the United States!"

"You're not going to get cold feet, are you, Mr. Darrin?" laughed Lieutenant-Commander Parker.

"No, sir; but, on the other hand, I don't want to underestimate the enemy."

"You don't seem likely to commit that fault, Mr. Darrin. For my part," went on coach, "I'm going to feel rather satisfied that Prescott and Holmes, of the Army, won't be able to get up anything that will equal or block the new plays you've been describing to me."

Dave and Dan were more than usually excited as they lingered in their room, awaiting the call to supper formation. Farley and Page, all ready to respond to the call, were also in the room.

"I hope old Dick and Greg haven't got anything new that will stop us!" glowed Dan Dalzell.

"It's just barely possible, of course," assented Darrin, "that they haven't."

"If they haven't," chuckled Farley gleefully, "then we scuttle the Army this year."

"Wouldn't it be truly great," laughed Page, "to see the great Prescott go down in the dust of defeat. Ha, ha! I can picture, right now, the look of amazement on his Army face!"

"We mustn't laugh too soon," Dave warned his hearers.

"Don't you want to see the redoubtable Prescott shoved into the middle of next year?" challenged Midshipman Page.

"Oh, yes; of course. Yet that's not because he's Prescott, for good old Dick is one of the most precious friends I have in the world," Dave answered earnestly. "I want to see Prescott beaten this year, and I want to have a hand in doing it—simply for the greater glory of the Navy!"

"Well," grunted Page, "that's good enough for me."

"We'll trail Soldier Prescott in the dust!" was a gleeful boast that circulated much through the Naval Academy during the few succeeding days.

Even Dave became infected with it, for he was a loyal Navy man to the very core. He began to think much of every trick of play that could possibly help to retire Dick Prescott to the background—all for the fame of the Navy and not for the hurt of his friend.

Dave even dreamed of it at night.

As for Dalzell, he caught the infection, proclaiming:

"We're out, this year, just to beat old Prescott and Holmes!"

Yet readers of the High School Boys' Series, who know the deep friendship that had existed, and always would, between Prescott and Holmes on the one side, and Darrin and Dalzell, on the other, do not need to be told that this frenzied feeling had in it nothing personal.

"If you two go on," laughed Midshipman Farley, one evening after release, "you'll both end up with hating your old-time chums."

"Don't you believe it!" retorted Dave Darrin almost sharply. "This is just a matter between the two service academies. What we want is to show the country that the Navy can put up an eleven that can walk all around the Army on Franklin Field."

"A lot the country cares about what we do!" laughed Page.

"True," admitted Dare. "A good many people do seem to forget that there are any such American institutions as the Military and the Naval Academies. Yet there are thousands of Americans who are patriotic enough to be keenly interested in all that we do."

"This is going to be a bad year for Army friends," chuckled Farley.

"And for the feelings of Cadets Prescott and Holmes," added Page with a grimace.

As the practice went on the spirits of the Navy folks went up to fever heat. It was plain that, this year, the Navy eleven was to make history in the world of sports.

"Poor old Dick!" sighed Darrin one day, as the members of the squad were togging to go on to the field.

"Why?" Dan demanded.

"Because, in spite of myself, I find that I am making a personal matter of the whole business. Dan, I'm obliged to be candid with myself. It has come to the point that it is Prescott and Holmes that I want to beat!"

"Same case here," Dan admitted readily. "They gave us a trouncing last year, and we're bound to pass it back to 'em."

"I believe I'd really lose all interest in the game, if Dick and Greg didn't play on the Army this year."

"I think I'd feel the same way about it," agreed Dan. "But never fear—they will play."

Two days later Dan finished his bath and dressing, after football practice, to find that Dave had already left ahead of him. Dan followed to their quarters in Bancroft Hall, to find Dave pacing the floor, the picture of despair.

"Dan!" cried Darrin sharply. "This letter is from Dick. He doesn't play this year!"

"Don't tell me anything funny, like that, when I've got a cracked lip," remonstrated Midshipman Dalzell.

"Dick doesn't play, I tell you—which means that Greg won't, either. A lot of boobs at the Military Academy have sent Dick to Coventry for something that he didn't do. Dan, I don't care a hang about playing this year—we can't beat Prescott and Holmes, for they won't be there!"

IV. DAVE'S WORK GOES STALE

"Aye, you're not—not joking?" demanded Dan Dalzell half piteously.

"Do you see any signs of mirth in my face?" demanded Dave Darrin indignantly.

Rap-tap! Right after the summons Midshipman Farley and Page entered the room.

"Say, who's dead?" blurted out Farley, struck by the looks of consternation on the faces of their hosts.

"Tell him, Dave," urged Dan.

"Prescott and Holmes won't play on this year's Army team," stated Darrin.

"Whoop!" yelled Farley gleefully. "And that was what you're looking so mighty solemn about? Cheer up, boy! It's good news."

"Great!" seconded Midshipman Page with enthusiasm.

"I tell you, fellows," spoke Dave solemnly, "it takes all the joy out of the Army-Navy game."

"Since when did winning kill joy?" demanded Farley aghast. "Why, with Prescott and Holmes out of it the Navy will get a fit of crowing that will last until after Christmas!"

"It makes the victory too cheap," contended Darrin.

"A victory is a victory," quoth Midshipman Page, "and the only fellow who can feel cheap about it is the fellow who doesn't win. Cheer up, Davy. It's all well enough to wallop a stray college, here and there, but the one victory that sinks in deep and does our hearts good is the one we carry away from the Army. Whoop! I could cry for joy."

"But why won't Prescott and Holmes play this year?" asked Farley, his face radiant with the satisfaction that the news had given him.

"Because the corps has sent Prescott to Coventry for something that I'm certain the dear old fellow never did," Darrin replied.

"Lucky accident!" muttered Farley.

"But the corps will repent, when they find their football hope gone," predicted Page, his face losing much of its hitherto joyous expression.

"No! No such luck," rejoined Midshipman Darrin. "If the brigade, here, sent a fellow to Coventry for what they considered cause, do you mean to tell me that they'd take the fellow out of Coventry just to get a good player on the eleven?"

"No, of course, not," Page admitted.

"Then do you imagine that the West Point men are any more lax in their views of corps honor?" pressed Dave.

"To be sure they are not—they can't be."

"Then there's only a chance in a thousand that Dick Prescott will, by any lucky accident, be restored to favor in the corps—at least, in time to play on this year's eleven. If he doesn't play, Holmes simply won't play. So that takes all the interest out of this year's Army-navy game."

"Not if the Navy wins," contended Midshipman Page.

"Bosh, there's neither profit nor honor in the Navy winning, unless it's against the best men that the Army can put forth," retorted Dave Darrin stubbornly. "By the great Dewey, I'm afraid nine tenths of my enthusiasm for the game this year has been killed by the miserable news that has come in."

Within less than five minutes after the midshipmen had seated themselves around the scores of tables in the mess hall, the news had flown around that Prescott and Holmes were to be counted as out of the Army eleven for this year.

Here and there suppressed cheers greeted the announcement The bulk of the midshipmen, however, were much of Dave Darrin's opinion that there was little glory in beating less than the best team that the Army could really put forth.

"Darry looks as though he had just got back from a funeral," remarked one member of the third class to another youngster.

"I don't blame him," replied the one so addressed.

"But he's all the more sure of winning over the Army this year."

"I don't believe either of you youngsters know Darrin as well as I do," broke in a second classman. "What I'm afraid of is, if Prescott and Holmes don't play with the soldiers, then Darry will lose interest in the game to such a degree that even Army dubs will be able to take his shoestrings away from him. Danny doesn't enjoy fighting fourth-raters. It's the big game that he enjoys going after. Why, I'm told that he had simply set his heart on pushing Prescott and Holmes all the way across Franklin Field this year."

Readers who are anxious to know why Dick Prescott, one of the finest of American youths, had been sent to Coventry by his comrades at the United States Military Academy, will find it all set forth in the concluding volume of the West Point Series, entitled "Dick Prescott's Fourth Year At West Point."

Strangely enough, the first effect of this news from West Point was to send the Navy eleven somewhat "to the bad." That is to say, Dave Darrin, despite his best endeavors, seemed to go stale from the first hour when he knew that he was not to meet Dick Prescott on the gridiron.

"Mr. Darrin, what ails you?" demanded coach kindly, at the end of the second practice game after that.

"I don't know, sir."

"You must brace up."

"Yes, sir."

"You seem to have lost all ambition. No; I won't just say that. But you appear, Mr. Darrin, either to have lost some of your snap or ambition, or else you have gone unaccountably stale."

"I realize my defects, sir, and I am trying very, very hard to overcome them."

"Are you ill at ease over any of your studies?" persisted coach.

"No, sir; it seems to me that the fourth year studies are the easiest in the whole course."

"They are not, Mr. Darrin. But you have had the advantage of three hard years spent in learning how to study, and so your present course appears rather easy to you. Are you sleeping well?"

"Yes, sir."

"Eating well?"

"Splendid appetite, sir."

"Hm! I shall soon have a chance to satisfy myself on that point, Mr. Darrin. The day after to-morrow the team goes to training table. Have you any idea, Mr. Darrin, what is causing you to make a poorer showing?"

"I have had one very great disappointment, sir. But I'd hate to think that a thing like that could send me stale."

"Oh, a disappointment?"

"Yes, sir," Dave went on frankly. "You see, sir, I have been looking forward, most eagerly, to meeting Prescott and downing him with the tricks that Jetson, Dalzell and I have been getting up."

"Oh! Prescott of the Army team?"

"Yes, sir."

"I think I heard something about his having been sent to Coventry at the Military Academy."

"But, Mr. Darrin, you are not going to fail us just because the Army loses a worthy player or two?" exclaimed Lieutenant-Commander Parker in astonishment.

"Probably that isn't what ails me, sir," Dave answered flushing. "After all, sir, probably I'm just beginning to go stale. If I can't shake it off no doubt I had better be retired from the Navy eleven."

"Don't you believe it!" almost shouted coach. "Mr. Darrin, you will simply have to brace! Give us all the best that's in you, and don't for one instant allow any personal disappointments to unfit you. You'll do that, won't you?"

"Yes, sir."

Darrin certainly tried hard enough. Yet just as certainly the Navy's boosters shook their heads when they watched Darrin's work on the field.

"He has gone stale," they said. "The very worst thing that could happen to the Navy this year!"

Then came the first game of the season—with Lehigh. Darrin roused himself all he could, and his playing was very nearly up to what might have been expected of him—though not quite.

The visitors got away with a score of eight to five against the Navy.

Next week the Lehighs went to West Point and suffered defeat at the hands of the Army.

The news sent gloom broadcast through the Naval Academy.

"We get beaten by one of the smaller colleges, that West Point can trim," was the mournful comment.

It did, indeed, look bad for the Navy!

V. DAN HANDS HIMSELF BAD MONEY

As the season went on it was evident that Dave Darrin was slowly getting back to form.

Yet coach was not wholly satisfied, nor was anyone else who had the triumph of the Navy eleven at heart.

Three more games had been played, and two of them were won by the Navy. Next would come Stanford College, a hard lot to beat. The Navy tried to bolster up its own hopes; a loss to Stanford would mean the majority of games lost out of the first five.

True, the news from West Point was not wholly disconcerting to the Navy. The Army that year had some strong players, it was true; still, the loss of Prescott and Holmes was sorely felt. Word came, too, in indirect ways, that there was no likelihood whatever that the Coventry against Cadet Dick Prescott would be lifted. It was the evident purpose of the Corps of Cadets, for fancied wrongs, to ostracize Dick Prescott until he found himself forced to resign from the United States Military Academy.

November came in. Stanford came. Coach talked to Dave Darrin steadily for ten minutes before the Navy eleven trotted out on to the field. Stanford left Annapolis with small end of the score, in a six-to-two game, and the Navy was jubilant.

"Darrin has come back pretty close to his right form," was the general comment.

For that Saturday evening Dan Dalzell, being now "on privilege" again, asked and received leave to visit in town—this the more readily because his work on the team had prevented his going out of the Yard that afternoon.

Dave, too, requested and secured leave to go into town, though he stated frankly that he had no visit to make, and wanted only a stroll away from the Academy grounds.

Darrin went most of the way to the Prestons.

"Come right along through, and meet Miss Preston," urged Dan.

"If you ask it as a favor I will, old chap," Dave replied.

"No; I thought the favor would be to you."

"So it would, ordinarily," Darrin replied gallantly. "But to-night I just want to stroll by myself."

"Ta-ta, then." The grin on Dan Dalzell's face as he turned away from his chum was broader than usual. Dan was thinking that, this time, though his call must be a short one, he would be in no danger on his return. He could report unconcernedly just before taps.

"No doughface need apply to-night," chuckled Dan. "But Davy was surely one awfully good fellow to get me through that other scrape as he did."

All thought of football fled from Dan Dalzell's brain as he pulled the bellknob at the Preston house.

After all this was to be but the third meeting. Dan fancied, however, that absence had made his heart fonder. Since the night when he had Frenched it over the wall Dan had received two notes from Miss Preston, in answer to his own letters, but the last note was now ten days' old.

"May I see Mrs. Preston?" asked Dan, as a colored servant opened the door and admitted him.

This was Dan's correct idea of the way to call on a young woman to whom he was not engaged, but half hoped to be, some day.

The colored maid soon came back.

"Mrs. Preston is so very busy, sah, that she asks to be excused, sah," reported the servant, coming into the parlor where Dan sat on the edge of a chair. "But Mistah Preston will be down right away, sah."

A moment later a heavier step was heard on the stairway. Then May Preston's uncle came into the parlor.

"You will pardon Mrs. Preston not coming down stairs to-night, I know, Mr. Dalzell," said the man of the house, as he and the midshipman shook hands. "The truth is, we are very much occupied to-night."

"I had not dreamed of it, or I would not have called," murmured Dan reddening. "I trust you will pardon me."

"There is no need of pardon, for you have not offended," smiled Mr. Preston. "I shall be very glad to spare you half an hour, if I can interest, you."

"You are very kind, sir," murmured Dan. "And Miss Preston—-"

"My niece?"

"Yes, sir."

"It is mainly on my niece's account that we are so busy to-night," smiled the host.

"She is not ill, sir?" asked Dan in alarm.

"Ill! Oh, dear me, no!"

Mr. Preston laughed most heartily.

"No; she is not in the least ill, Mr. Dalzell, though, on Monday, she may feel a bit nervous toward noon,"

"Nervous—on Monday?" asked Dan vaguely. It seemed rank nonsense that her uncle should be able to predict her condition so definitely on another day.

"Why, yes; Monday is to be the great day, of course."

"Great day, sir? And why 'of course'?" inquired Dan, now as much interested as he was mystified.

"Why, my niece is to be married Monday at high noon."

"Married?" gasped Midshipman Dalzell, utterly astounded and discomfited by such unlooked-for news.

"Yes; didn't you know Miss Preston was engaged to be married?"

"I—I certainly did not," Dan stammered.

"Why, she spoke to you much of 'Oscar'——"

"Her brother?"

"No; the man who will be her husband on Monday," went on Mr. Preston blandly. Being quite near-sighted the elder man had not discovered Dan's sudden emotion. "That is what occupies us to-night. We leave on the first car for Baltimore in the morning. Mrs. Preston is now engaged over our trunks."

"I—I am very certain, then, that I have come at an unseasonable time," Dan answered hastily. "I did not know—which fact, I trust, will constitute my best apology for having intruded at such a busy season, Mr. Preston."

"There has been no intrusion, and therefore no apology is needed, sir," replied Mr. Preston courteously.

Dan got out, somehow, without staggering, or without having his voice quiver.

Once in the street he started along blindly, his fists clenched.

"So that's the way she uses me, is it?" he demanded of himself savagely. "Plays with me, while all the time the day for her wedding draws near. She must be laughing heartily over—my greenness! Oh, confound all girls, anyway!"

It was seldom that Midshipman Dalzell allowed himself to get in a temper. He had been through many a midshipman fight without having had his ugliness aroused. But just now Dan felt humiliated, sore in spirit and angry all over—especially with all members of the gentler sex.

He even fancied that Mr. Preston was at that moment engaged in laughing over the verdant midshipman. As a matter of fact, Mr. Preston was doing nothing of the sort. Mr. Preston had not supposed that Dan's former call had been intended as anything more than a pleasant social diversion. The Prestons supposed that every one knew that their niece was betrothed to an excellent young fellow. So, at this particular moment, Mr. Preston was engaged in sitting on a trunk, while his wife tried to turn the key in the lock. Neither of them was favoring Midshipman Dalzell with as much as a thought.

"Why on earth is it that all girls are so tricky?" Dan asked himself savagely, taking it for granted that all girls are "tricky" where admirers are concerned.

"Oh, my, what a laugh Davy will have over me, when he hears!" was Dan's next bitter thought, as he strode along.

Having just wronged all girls in his own estimation of them, Dan was now proceeding to do his own closest chum an injustice. For Dave Darrin was too thorough a gentleman to laugh over any unfortunate's discomfiture.

"What a lucky escape I had from getting better acquainted with that girl!" was Dalzell's next thought. "Why, with one as wholly deceitful as she is there can be no telling where it would all have ended. She might have drawn me into troubles that would have resulted in my having to leave the service!"

Dan had not the least desire to do any one an injustice, but just now he was so astounded and indignant that his mind worked violently rather than keenly.

"Serves me right!" sputtered Dalzell, at last. "A man in the Navy has no business to think about the other sex. He should give his whole time and thought to his profession and his country. That's what I'll surely do after this."

Having reached this conclusion, the midshipman should have been more at peace with himself, but he wasn't. He had been sorely, even if foolishly wounded in his own self esteem, and it was bound to hurt until the sensation wore off.

"You'll know more, one of these days, Danny boy," was his next conclusion. "And what you know will do you a lot more good, too, if it doesn't include any knowledge whatever of girls—except the disposition and the ability to keep away from 'em! I suppose there are a few who wouldn't fool a fellow in this shameless way but it will be a heap safer not to try to find any of the few!"

Dan's head was still down, and he was walking as blindly as ever, when he turned a corner and ran squarely into some one.

"Why don't you look out where you're going?" demanded that some one.

"Why don't you look out yourself?" snapped Midshipman Dalzell, and the next instant a heavy hand was laid upon him.

VI. THE "FORGOT" PATH TO TROUBLE

"Here, confound you! I'll teach you to——"

"Teach me how to walk the way you were going when I stopped you?" demanded the same voice, and a harder grip was taken on Dalzell's shoulder.

In his misery Dan was not at all averse to fighting, if a good excuse were offered. So his first move was not to look up, but to wrest him self out of that grip, haul away and put up his guard.

"Dave Darrin!" gasped Midshipman Dan, using his eyes at last.

Dave was laughing quietly.

"Danny boy, you shouldn't cruise without lights and a bow watch!" admonished Dave. "What sent your wits wool gathering? You look terribly upset over something."

"Do I?" asked Dan, looking guilty.

"You certainly do. And see here, is this the way to the Preston house?"

"No; it's the way away from it."

"But you had permission to visit at the Prestons."

"That isn't any news to me," grunted Dalzell.

"Then—pardon me—but why aren't you there?"

"Are you the officer of the day?" demanded Dan moodily.

"No; merely your best friend."

"I beg your pardon, Dave. I am a grouch tonight."

"Wasn't Miss Preston at home."

"I—I don't know."

"Don't know? Haven't you been there?"

"Yes; but I didn't ask——"

As Dan hesitated Dave rested both hands on his chum's shoulders, looking sharply into that young man's eyes.

"Danny, you act as though you were loco. (crazy). What on earth is up? You went to call on Miss Preston. You reached the house, and evidently you left there again. But you don't know whether Miss Preston was in; you forgot to ask. Let me look in at the answer to the riddle."

"Dave—Miss Preston is going to be married!"

"Most girls are going to be," Darrin replied quietly. "Do you mean that Miss Preston is going to marry some one else than yourself?"

"Yes."

"Soon?"

"Monday noon."

Dave Darrin whistled.

"So this is the meaning of your desperation? Danny boy, if you're stung, I'm sincerely sorry for you."

"I don't quite know whether I want any sympathy," Dan replied, though he spoke rather gloomily. "Perhaps I'm to be congratulated."

He laughed mirthlessly, then continued:

"When a girl will treat a fellow like that, isn't it just as well to find out her disposition early?"

"Perhaps," nodded Darrin. "But Danny, do you mean to say that you attempted to pay your call without an appointment?"

"What was the need of an appointment?" demanded Dan. "Miss Preston invited me to call at any time—just drop in. Now, she must know that Saturday evening is a midshipman's only chance at this time of the year."

"Nevertheless, you were wrong at that point, in the game," Dave went on gravely. "Unless you're on the best of terms with a young lady, don't attempt to call on her without having learned that your purpose will be agreeable to her. And so Miss Preston, while receiving your calls, has been engaged to some one else?"

Dan nodded, adding, "She might have given me some hint, I should think."

"I don't know about that," Darrin answered thoughtfully. "Another good view of it would be that a young lady's private affairs are her own property. Didn't she ever mention the lucky fellow to you?"

"It seems that she did," Dalzell assented. "But I thought, all the time, that she was talking about her brother."

"Why should you especially think it was her brother whom she was mentioning?"

"Because she seemed so mighty fond of the fellow," Dan grunted.

Dave choked a strong impulse to laugh.

"Danny boy," he remarked, "girls, very often, are mighty fond, also, of the fellow to whom they're engaged."

"Why did she let me call?" demanded Dan gloomily.

"How often have you called?" inquired Midshipman Darrin.

"Once, before to-night."

"Only once? Then, see here, Danny! Don't be a chump. When you call on a girl once, and ask if you may call some other time, how on earth is she to guess that you're an intended rival of the man she has promised to marry?"

"But——" That was as far as Midshipman Dalzell got. He halted, wondering what he really could say next.

"Dan, I'm afraid you've got an awful lot to learn about girls, and also about the social proprieties to be observed in calling on them. As to Miss Preston receiving a call from you, and permitting you to call again, that was something that any engaged girl might do properly enough. Miss Preston came to Annapolis, possibly to learn something about midshipman life. She met you and allowed you to call. Very likely she permitted others to call. From what you've told me I can't see that she treated you unfairly in any way; I don't believe Miss Preston ever guessed that you had any other than the merest social reasons for calling."

"And I'm not sure that I did have," grunted Dalzell.

Dave shot another swift look into his chum's face before he said:

"Danny boy, your case is a light one. You'll recover speedily. Your vanity has been somewhat stung, but your heart won't have a scar in three days from now."

"What makes you think you know so much about that?" insisted Dan, drawing himself up with a dignified air.

"It isn't hard to judge, when it's another fellow's case," smiled Darrin. "I believe that, at this minute, I understand your feelings better than you do yourself."

"I don't know about my feelings," proclaimed Dan gloomily still, "but I do know something about my experience and conclusions. No more girls for me!"

"Good idea, Danny boy," cried Darrin, slapping his friend on the back. "That's the best plan for you, too."

"Why?"

"Because you haven't head enough to understand girls and their ways."

"I don't want to."

"Good! I hope you will keep in that frame of mind. And now, let's talk of something serious."

"Of what, then?" inquired Dalzell, as the two started to walk along together.

"Football."

"Is that more serious than girls?" demanded Dan Dalzell, suspicious that his friend was making fun of him.

"It's safer, at any rate, for you. Why, if a girl happens to say, 'Delighted to meet you, Mr. Dalzell,' you expect her to give up all other thoughts but you, and to be at home every Saturday evening. No, no, Danny. The company of the fair is not for you. Keep to things you understand better—such as football."

Dan Dalzell's eyes shot fire. He was certain, now, that his chum was poking fun at him, and this, in his present temper, Dan could not quite endure.

"So, since we've dropped the subject of girls," Dave continued placidly, "what do you think are our real chances for the balance of this season?"

"They'd be a lot improved," grunted Dan, "if you'd get the grip on yourself that you had at the beginning of the season."

"I know I'm not playing in as good form as I had hoped to," Dave nodded. "The worst of it is, I can't find out the reason."

"A lot of the fellows think you've lost interest since you found that you won't have the great Prescott to play against in the Army-Navy game," Dan hinted.

"Yes; I know. I've heard that suspicion hinted at."

"Isn't it true?" challenged Dalzell.

"To the best of my knowledge and belief, it isn't. Why, Danny, it would be absurd to think that I couldn't play right now, just because Dick isn't to be against us on Franklin Field."

"I know it would sound absurd," Dan replied. "But let us put it another way, Dave. All along you've been working yourself up into better form, because you knew that, otherwise, it was very doubtful whether the Navy could beat the Army on the gridiron. So you had worked yourself up to where you played a better game than ever Dick Prescott thought of doing. Then you hear that poor Dick is in Coventry, and therefore not on the team. You haven't got the great Army man to beat, and, just for that reason, you slack up on your efforts."

"I am not slacking up," retorted Dave with some spirit. "I am doing the best that is in me, though I admit I appear to have gone stale."

"And so something will happen," predicted Dan.

"What will that be?"

"Between now and the game with the Army, Prescott's comrades will find what boobs they've been, and they'll lift the Coventry. Prescott and Holmes will get into the Army team at the last moment, and the fellows from West Point will ride rough-shod over the Navy, just as they did last year."

"Do you really think that will happen?" demanded Darrin eagerly. "Do you really believe that dear old Dick will get out of that Coventry and back on the Army eleven?"

"Well," returned Midshipman Dalzell soberly, "I'll venture a prediction. If you don't get a brace on your playing soon, then it'll be regular Navy luck for Prescott to come to Philadelphia and put on his togs. Then the soldiers will drag us down the field to the tune of 46 to 2."

"I'd sooner he killed on the field than see that happen!" cried Midshipman Dave, his eyes flashing.

"Then don't let it happen! You're the only star on our team, Dave, that isn't up to the mark. If we lose to the Army, this year, Prescott or no Prescott, it will be your fault, Dave Darrin. You're not one of our weak spots, really but you're not as strong as you ought to be and can be if you'll only brace."

"Brace!" quivered Dave. "Won't I, though?"

"Good! Just stick to that."

"Dan!" Darrin halted his chum before a store where dry goods and notions were sold. "Let's go in here——"

"What, for?" Midshipman Dalzell asked in astonishment.

"I want to make a purchase," replied Dave soberly. "Danny boy, I'm going to buy you a hat pin—one at least ten inches long. You're to slip it in, somewhere in your togs. When you catch me lagging—practice or game—just jab that hat pin into me as far as you can send it."

"Bosh!" retorted Dan impatiently. "Come along."

Dave submitted, in patient silence, to being led away from the store. For some moments the chums strolled along together in silence.

"Now, speaking of Miss Preston," began Dan, breaking the silence at last, "she——"

"Drop that! Get back to football, Danny—it's safer," warned Dave Darrin.

"But——"

"Hold on, I tell you! You had almost recovered, Danny, in the short space of five minutes. Now, don't bring on a relapse by opening up the old sore. I shall soon begin to believe it was your heart that was involved, instead of your vanity."

"Oh, hang girls, then!" exploded Dan.

"Couldn't think of it," urged Dave gently. "That wouldn't be chivalrous, and even a midshipman is required to be a gentleman at all times. So——"

"Good evening, gentlemen," spoke a pleasant voice. The midshipmen glanced up, then promptly brought up their hands in salute to an officer whom they would otherwise have passed without seeing.

That officer was Lieutenant Adams, discipline officer.

"Are you enjoying your stroll, Mr. Darrin?" asked Mr. Adams.

"Very much, sir; thank you."

"And you, Mr. Dalzell. But let me see—wasn't your liberty for the purpose of paying a visit?"

"Yes, sir," Dan answered, coloring.

"And you are strolling, instead?"

"Yes, sir; the person on whom I went to call was not there."

"Then, Mr. Darrin, you should have returned to Bancroft Hall, and reported your return."

"Yes, sir; I should have done that," Dan confessed in confusion. "The truth is, sir, it hadn't occurred to me."

"Return at once, Mr. Dalzell, and place yourself on report for strolling without permission."

"Yes, sir."

Both midshipmen saluted, then turned for the shortest cut to Maryland Avenue, and thence to the gate at the end of that thoroughfare.

"Ragged!" muttered Dan. "And without the slightest intention of doing anything improper."

"It was improper, though," Dave replied quickly, "and both you and I should have thought of it in time."

"I really forgot."

"Forgot to think, you mean, Dan, and that's no good excuse in bodies of men where discipline rules. Really, I should have gone on report, too."

"But you had liberty to stroll in town."

"Yes; but I'm guilty in not remembering to remind you of your plain duty."

Lieutenant Adams had not in the least enjoyed ordering Dan to place himself on report. The officer had simply done his duty. To the average civilian it may seem that Dan Dalzell had done nothing very wrong in taking a walk when he found the purpose of his call frustrated; but discipline, when it imposes certain restrictions on a man, cannot allow the man himself to be the judge of whether he may break the restrictions. If the man himself is to be the judge then discipline ceases to exist.

"So I've got to stick myself on pap, and accept a liberal handful of demerits, all on account of a girl?" grumbled Dan, as the chums turned into the road leading to Bancroft Hall."

"That is largely because you couldn't get the girl out of your head," Dave rejoined. "Didn't I tell you, Danny, that you hadn't head enough to give any of your attention to the other sex?"

"It's tough to get those demerits, though," contended Dan. "I imagine there'll be a large allowance of them, and in his fourth year a fellow can't receive many demerits without having to get out of the Academy. One or two more such scrapes, and I'll soon be a civilian, instead of an officer in the Navy!"

"See here, Dan; I'll offer an explanation that you can make truthfully. Just state, when you're called up, that you and I were absorbed talking football, and that you really forgot to turn in the right direction while your mind was so full of Navy football. That may help some."

"Yes; it will—not!"

Dan Dalzell passed into the outer room of the officer in charge, picked up a blank and filled it out with the report against himself.

Dave was waiting outside as Dan came out from the disagreeable duty of reporting himself.

"Hang the girls!" Dalzell muttered again disgustedly.

VII. DAN'S EYES JOLT HIS WITS

Dan Dalzell, on the point of stepping out of Bancroft Hall, wheeled like a flash, and bounded back against Farley, Jetson and Page.

"Don't look!" whispered Dan hoarsely. "Duck!"

"What on earth is the matter?" demanded Midshipman Darrin, eyeing his chum sharply.

"I—I don't know what it is," muttered Dan, after he had backed his friends some feet from the entrance.

"What does it look like?" asked Farley.

"Something like a messenger boy," returned Dan.

"Surely, you're not afraid of a messenger boy with a telegram," laughed Darrin. "Little chance that the message is for you, at any rate."

"But—it's got a Naval uniform on, I tell you," warned Dan.

"No; you hadn't told us. What is it—another midshipman?"

"Not by a jugful!" Dan sputtered. "It's wearing an officer's uniform."

"Then undoubtedly you chanced to glance at an officer of the Navy," Darrin replied, sarcastically soothing. "Brace up, Dan."

"But he's only a kid!" remonstrated Dan. "And he wears a lieutenant's insignia!"

"Bosh! Some officers are quite boyish-looking," remarked Farley. "Come on out, fellows; I haven't forgotten how to salute an officer when I see one."

The others, except Dan, started briskly for the entrance. As for Dalzell, he brought up the rear, grumbling:

"All right; you fellows go on out and see whether you see him. If you don't, then I'm going to report myself at hospital without delay. Really, I can't swear that I saw—it."

But at that moment the object of Dan's alarm reached one of the doors of the entrance of Bancroft Hall and stepped briskly inside.

This new-comer's glance fell upon the knot of midshipmen, and he glanced at them inquiringly, as though to see whether these young men intended to salute him.

Surely enough, the newcomer was decidedly boyish-looking, yet he wore the fatigue uniform and insignia of a lieutenant of the United States Navy. If he were masquerading, here was a dangerous place into which to carry his antics.

The five midshipmen brought their right hands hesitatingly to the visors of their uniform caps. The very youthful lieutenant smartly returned their salutes, half smiled, then turned, in search of the officer in charge.

"Scoot! Skip! Let's escape!" whispered Dan hoarsely, and all five midshipmen were speedily out in the open.

"Now, did you fellows really see—it—or did I have a delusion that I saw you all salute when I did?"

"I saw it," rejoined Farley, "and I claim it, if no one else wants it."

"The service is going to the dogs," growled Page, "when they give away a lieutenant's uniform with a pound of tea!"

"What ails you fellows?" rebuked Dave Darrin. "The man who passed us was a sure-enough lieutenant in the Navy."

"Him?" demanded Midshipman Dalzell, startled out of his grip on English grammar. "A lieutenant? That—that—kid?"

"He's a lieutenant of the Navy, all right," Dave insisted.

"You're wrong," challenged Page. "Don't you know, Dave, that a man must be at least twenty-one years old in order to hold an officer's commission in the Navy?"

"That man who received our salutes is a Naval, officer," Dave retorted. "I don't know anything about his age."

"Why, that little boy can't be a day over seventeen," gasped Dan Dalzell. "Anyway, fellows, I'm overjoyed that you all saw him! That takes a load off my mind as to my mental condition."

"Whoever he is, he's a Navy officer, and he has trod the bridge in many a gale," contended Dave. "Small and young as he looks, that man had otherwise every bit of the proper appearance of a Navy officer."

"What a joke it will be on you," grinned Page, "when you find the watchman dragging the little fellow away to turn over to the doctors from the asylum!"

The midshipmen were on their way to report for afternoon football work. As they had started a few minutes early, and had time to spare, they had now halted on the way, and were standing on the sidewalk in front of the big and handsome barracks building.

"Can you fellows still use your eyes?" Dave wanted to know. "If you can, look toward the steps of Bancroft."

The officer in charge was coming out. At his side was the very youthful looking one in the lieutenant's uniform.

"The O.C. is decoying the stranger away to turn him over to the watchmen without violence," guessed Midshipman Farley.

Three officers were approaching. These the five midshipmen turned and saluted. In another moment all of the five save Dave Darrin received a sharp jolt. For the O.C. had halted and was introducing the three Navy officers to the youthful one.

"This is Lieutenant Benson, the submarine expert of whom you have heard so much," said the O.C., loudly enough for the amazed middies to hear.

"Sub—sub—-say, did you fellows hear that?" begged Dan hoarsely.

"Yes," assented Dave calmly. "And say, you fellows are a fine lot to be serving here. You all remember Mr. Benson. He was here last year—he and his two submarine friends. We didn't see them, because our class didn't go out on the Pollard submarine boat that was here last year. But you remember them, just the same. You remember, too, that Mr. Benson and his friends were hazed by some of the men in last year's youngster class. You heard about that? A lot of the fellows came near getting ragged, but Benson didn't take offense, and his quick wit pulled that lot of last year's youngsters out of a bad fix."

"Then Benson and his mates are real people?" demanded Dan, still doubtful, if his voice were an indication.

"Yes; and Benson is a real submarine expert, too, even if he is a boy," Dave went on.

"Then he is only a boy?"

"He's seventeen or eighteen."

"Then how can he be a lieutenant?" demanded Dalzell, looking more bewildered.

"He isn't," Dave answered simply.

"But the O.C. introduced him that way."

"And quite properly," answered Darrin, whereat his companions stared at him harder than ever.

"Let's walk along," proposed Dave, "and I'll tell you the little that I know, or think I know, about the matter. Of course, you fellows all know about the Pollard submarine boats? The government owns a few of them now, and is going to buy a lot more of the Pollard craft."

"But that kid officer?" insisted Dan.

"If you'll wait I'll come to that. Benson, his name is; Jack Benson he's commonly called. He and two boy friends got in on the ground floor at the Farnum shipyard. They were boys of considerable mechanical skill, and they found their forte in the handling of submarine boats. They've done some clever, really wonderful feats with submarines. Farnum, the owner of the yard, trusted these boys, after a while, to show off the fine points of the craft to our Navy officers and others."

"But what has that to do with giving Benson a commission in the Navy?" demanded Farley.

"I'm coming to that," Dave replied. "As I've heard the yarn, Benson and his two boy friends attracted attention even from the European governments. The Germans and some other powers even made them good offers to desert this country and go abroad as submarine experts. Our Navy folks thought enough of Benson and his chums to want to save them for this country. So the Secretary of the Navy offered all three the rank and command of officers without the actual commissions. As soon as these young men, the Submarine Boys as they are called, are twenty-one, the Navy Department will bestir itself to give them actual commissions and make them real staff or line officers."

"So that those kids will rank us in the service?" grumbled Dan.

"Well, up to date," replied Dave quietly, "the Submarine Boys have done more for their country than we have. Of course, in the end, we may be admirals in the Navy, even before they're captains. Who can tell?"

"I wonder what Benson is doing here?" murmured Farley.

"Lieutenant Benson," Dave corrected him, "is probably here on official business. If you want exact details, suppose we stop at the superintendent's house and ask him."

"Quit your kidding," grinned Farley.

"So I've got to say 'sir,' if that boy speaks to me?" asked Dan.

"I think it would be better," smiled Darrin, "if you're anxious to escape another handful of demerits."

By the time that the football squad began to assemble on the football field, Dan and his friends found that some of the midshipmen were full of information about the famous Submarine Boys. Readers who may not be familiar with the careers of Lieutenant Jack Benson, Ensign Hal Hastings, and Ensign Eph Somers are referred to the volumes of the Submarine Boys' Series. In "The Submarine Boys and the Middies" will be found the account of the hazing that Jack, Hal and Eph had received at the hands of midshipmen.

Benson and his two friends, with a crew of four men, were now at the Naval Academy, having arrived at two o'clock that afternoon, for the purpose of giving the first classmen instruction aboard the latest Pollard submarine, the "Dodger."

But play was called, and that stopped, for the time being, all talk about the Submarine Boys.

VIII. THE PRIZE TRIP ON THE "DODGER"

The following afternoon, at the hour for instruction in the machine shops, the entire first class was marched down to the basin, where the "Dodger" lay. Squad by squad the midshipmen were taken on board the odd-looking little craft that was more at home beneath the waves than on them.

While the exact place and scale of importance of submarine war craft has not been determined as yet, boats of the Pollard type are certainly destined to play a tremendously important part in the Naval wars of the future. Hence all of the midshipmen were deeply interested in what they saw and were told.

Some of these first classmen were twenty-four years of age, others from twenty to twenty-two. Hence, with many of them, there was some slight undercurrent of feeling over the necessity for taking instruction from such very youthful instructors as Jack Benson, Hal Hastings and Eph Somers.

Had any of this latter trio been inclined to put on airs there might have been some disagreeable feeling engendered in the breasts of some of the middies. But Jack and his associates were wholly modest, pleasant and helpful.

Beginning on the following day, it was announced, the "Dodger" would take a squad of six midshipmen down Chesapeake Bay for practical instruction in submarine work, both above and below the surface of the water. This instruction would continue daily, with squads of six midshipmen on board, until all members of the first class had received thorough drilling.

"That's going to be a mighty pleasant change from the usual routine here," whispered Farley in Dave's ear.

"It surely will," Darrin nodded. "It will be even better fun than football."

"With no chance for the Army to beat us out on this game," Farley replied slyly.

At last it came the turn of Dave, Dan, Farley, Page, Jetson and Wolgast to go aboard the "Dodger."

"Gentlemen," announced Lieutenant Jack Benson, "Ensign Somers will show you all that is possible about the deck handling and the steering below the surface, and then Ensign Hastings will explain the mechanical points of this craft. When both are through, if you have any questions. I will endeavor to answer them."

In a few minutes the "showing" had been accomplished.

"Any questions, gentlemen?" inquired Lieutenant Benson.

Dave was ready with three; Farley had four and Jetson two. Lieutenant Benson looked particularly pleased as he answered. Then, at last, he inquired:

"What's your name?"

"Darrin, sir," Dave replied.

The other midshipmen present were asked their names, and gave them.

"Gentlemen," continued youthful Lieutenant Benson, "this present squad impresses me as being more eager and interested in submarines than any of the squads that have come aboard."

"Thank you, sir," Dave replied for himself and the others.

"Are you really exceptionally interested?" inquired Benson.

"I think we are, sir," Dave responded.

"On Saturday of each week, as long as the 'Dodger' is at Annapolis," went on Benson, "we intend to take out one of the best squads. We shall drop down the Bay, not returning, probably before Sunday noon. Would you gentlemen like to be the first squad to go on the longer cruise—next Saturday?"

The faces of all six midshipmen shone with delight for an instant, until Dave Darrin answered mournfully:

"It would give us great delight, sir, but for one thing. We play Creighton University next Saturday, and we are all members of the Navy team."

"None of you look forward to having to go to hospital during the progress of the game, do you?" inquired Lieutenant Benson with a slight smile.

"Hardly, sir."

"Then the 'Dodger' can sail an hour after the finish of the game, and perhaps stay out a little later on Sunday. Will that solve the problem?"

"Splendidly, sir!"

"Then I will use such persuasion as I can with the superintendent to have you six men detailed for the Saturday-Sunday detail this week," promised Lieutenant Benson. "And now I will write your names down, in order that there may be no mistake about the squad that reports to me late next Saturday afternoon. Dismissed!"

As Dave and his friends stepped ashore even Dan Dalzell had a more gracious estimate of "that kid, Benson."

That night, and for several nights afterwards, the "Dodger" and her officers furnished a fruitful theme for discussion among the midshipmen. As the "Dodger" was believed to be the very finest submarine craft anywhere among the navies of the world, the interest grew rather than waned.

Dave and Dan, as well as their four friends, began to look forward with interest to the coming cruise down the bay.

"Fellows," warned Wolgast, "you'll have to look out not to get your heads so full of submarines that you lose to Creighton on Saturday."

"On the contrary," retorted Dave, "you can look for us to push Creighton all over the field. We'll do it just as a sheer vent to our new animal spirits."

That was a decidedly boastful speech for Dave Darrin, yet on Saturday he made good, or helped tremendously, for Creighton retired from the field with the small end of an eight-to-two score.

"Now, hustle on the dressing," roared Wolgast, as they started to un-tog and get under the showers, after the football victory.

"What's the need of rush?" demanded Peckham one of the subs.

"It doesn't apply to you," Wolgast shot back over his shoulder, as he started on a run to the nearest shower. "I'm talking only to to-night's submarine squad."

The six midshipmen found many an envious look shot in their direction.

"Those extremely youthful officers seem to have a bad case of spoons on you six," remarked Peckham almost sourly.

"Show some nearly human intelligence, and maybe you'll get a chance at one of the Saturday cruises, Peckham," called back Farley, as he began to towel down vigorously.

Dave and his friends were the first men of the team to be dressed and ready to leave.

"Give our best regards to Davy Jones!" shouted one of the football men.

"If you go down to the bottom of Chesapeake Bay, and can't get up again, don't do anything to spoil the fishing," called another middy.

By this time Dave Darrin and his mates were outside and on their way to the basin.

Lieutenant Jack Benson was the only one of the "Dodger's" officers on view when the midshipmen arrived alongside. They passed aboard, saluting Benson, who returned their salutes without affectation.

"All here?" said Benson. "Mr. Somers, tumble the crew on deck!"

"Shall we go below, sir?" inquired Dave, again saluting.

"Not until so directed," Benson replied. "I wish you to see every detail of the boat handling."

At Lieutenant Jack's command the crew threw the hawsers aboard and soon had them out of the way.

Benson gave the starting signal to Eph Somers.

No sooner had the "Dodger's" hawsers been cast aboard than the submarine torpedo boat headed out. It was a get-away swift enough—almost to take the breath of the midshipmen.

"You see, gentlemen," Lieutenant Benson explained quietly, "we act on the theory that in submarine work every second has its value when in action. So we have paid a good deal of attention to the speedy start. Another thing that you will note is that, aboard so small a craft, it is important that, as far as is possible, the crew act without orders for each move. What do you note of the crew just now?"

"That they performed their work with lightning speed, sir, and that they have already gone below, without waiting for orders to that effect."

"Right," nodded Jack Benson. "Had the crew been needed on deck I would have ordered them to remain. As I did not so order they have gone below, where they are out of the way until wanted. A craft that fights always on the surface of the water should have some men of the crew always on deck. But here on a submarine the men would be in the way, and we want a clear range of view all over the deck, and seaward, in order that we may see everything that it is possible to see. Mr. Darrin, Mr. Dalzell and Mr. Farley will remain on deck with me. The other young gentlemen will go below to study the workings of the engines under Ensign Hastings."

Though it was a true pleasure trip for all six of the midshipmen, it was one of hard, brisk instruction all the time.

"Here, you see," explained Lieutenant Jack, leading his trio just forward of the conning tower, "we have a deck wheel for use when needed. Mr. Somers, give up the wheel."

"Aye, aye, sir," and Ensign Eph, who had been sitting at the tower wheel since the start, moved away and came on deck.

"Mr. Darrin, take the wheel," directed Benson. "Are you familiar with the Bay?"

"Not sufficiently, sir, to be a pilot."

"Then I will give you your directions from time to time. How does this craft mind her wheel?"

"With the lightest touch, sir, that I ever saw in a wheel."

"The builders of the 'Dodger' have been working to make the action of the steering wheel progressively lighter with each boat that they have built. Men on a submarine craft must have the steadiest nerves at all times, and steady nerves do not go hand in hand with muscle fatigue."

Lieutenant Jack walked to the entrance to the conning tower. "Mallock!" he called down to one of the crew.

"Aye, aye, sir."

"My compliments to Mr. Hastings, and ask him to crowd the speed of the boat gradually."

"Aye, aye, sir."

The "Dodger" had been moving down the bay at a ten-knot pace. Suddenly she gave a jump that caused Midshipman Dave Darrin to wonder. Then the submarine settled down to a rushing sixteen-knot gait."

"I didn't know, sir," ventured Farley, "that submarines could go quite so fast."

"The old types didn't," Lieutenant Jack answered. "However, on the surface a capable submarine must be able to show a good deal of speed."

"For getting away, sir?"

"Oh, no. Naturally, when a submarine is pursued she can drop under the surface and leave no trail. But suppose a single submarine to be guarding a harbor, unaided by other fighting craft. A twenty-or twenty-two knot battleship is discovered, trying to make the harbor. Even if the battleship steams away the submarine should be capable of following. The engines of the 'Dodger,' in favorable weather, can drive her at twenty-six knots on the surface."

"She's as fast as a torpedo-boat destroyer, then, sir," hazarded Dan.

"Yes; and the submarine needs to be as fast. With the improvement of submarine boats the old style of torpedo boat will pass out altogether. Then, if the destroyer is retained the submarine must be capable of attacking the destroyer on equal terms. Undoubtedly, after a few years more the river gunboat and the submarine torpedo boat will be the only small fighting craft left in the navies of the leading powers of the world."

Even while this brief conversation was going on the speed of the "Dodger" had begun to increase again. Ensign Hasting's head showed through the opening in the conning tower.

"We're going now at a twenty-knot clip, sir," Hal reported. "Do you wish any more speed?"

"Not in Chesapeake Bay; navigating conditions are not favorable."

"Very good, sir." Hal vanished below. Never very talkative, Hal was content to stand by his engines in silence when there was no need of talking.

From time to time, as the craft sped on down the bay, Lieutenant Benson glanced at the chronometer beside the deck wheel.

"You don't have the ship's bell struck on this craft, sir?" inquired Midshipman Darrin.

"Only when at anchor or in dock," replied Lieutenant Jack Benson. "A submarine's natural mission is one of stealth, and it wouldn't do to go about with a clanging of gongs. Now, let me have the wheel, Mr. Darrin. You gentlemen go to the conning tower and stand so that you can hear what goes on below."

While the three midshipmen stood as directed the speed of the "Dodger" slackened.

Then, after a space of a full minute, the submarine returned to her former twenty-knot speed.

"Did you hear any clanging or jangling of a signal bell or gong when the speeds were changed?" questioned Lieutenant Benson.

"No, sir," Darrin answered.

"That was because no bells were sounded," explained Benson. "From deck or conning tower signals can be sent that make no noise. On a dark night, or in a fog, we could manoeuvre, perhaps, within a stone's throw of an enemy's battleship, and the only sound that might betray our presence would be our wash as we moved along. Take the wheel, Mr. Farley."

Then, after giving Farley a few directions as to the course to follow, Lieutenant Benson added:

"Take command of the deck, Mr. Farley."

"Humph!" muttered Dan. "The lieutenant doesn't seem to be afraid that we'll run his craft into any danger."

"He knows as well as we do what would happen to me, if there were any disaster, and I had to explain it before a court of inquiry," laughed Midshipman Farley. "Hello! Who slowed the boat down?"

Dan had done it, unobserved by his comrades, in an irrepressible spirit of mischief. He had reached over, touching the indicator, and thus directing the engine-room man to proceed at less speed. Dalzell, however, did not answer.

"I'd like to know if the speed were slackened intentionally," fussed Farley. "Darry, do you mind going below and inquiring?"

"Not in the least," smiled Dave, "but is it good Naval etiquette for one midshipman to use another midshipman as a messenger?"

"Oh, bother etiquette!" grunted Farley. "What would you really do if you were in command of the deck—as I am—and you wanted to ask a question, with the answer down below?"

"I'll go to the conning tower and summon a man on deck, if you wish," Dave offered.

Farley nodded, so Dave stepped over to the conning tower, calling down:

"One man of the watch—on deck!"

Seaman Mallock was on deck in a hurry, saluting Midshipman Farley.

"Mallock, report to Lieutenant Benson, or the next ranking officer who may be visible below. Report with my compliments that the speed of the craft has slackened, and inquire whether that was intentional."

"Aye, aye, sir."

Mallock was soon back, saluting.

"Engine tender reports, sir, that he slowed down the speed in obedience to the indicator."

"But I——" Farley began. Then he checked himself abruptly, noting out of the corner of his eye that Dan Dalzell had wandered over to the rail and stood looking off to seaward. If Dan were responsible for the slowing down of the speed, and admitted it under questioning, then Farley, under the regulations, would be obliged to report Dalzell, and that young man already had some demerits against his name.

"Oh, very good, then, Mallock," was Midshipman Farley's rather quick reply. "Who is the ranking officer visible below at present?"

"Ensign Somers, sir."

"Very good. My compliments to Mr. Somers, and ask at what speed he wishes to run."

Seaman Mallock soon returned, saluting.

"Ensign Somers' compliments sir, and the ensign replies that Mr. Farley is in command of the deck."

"Very good, then," nodded Midshipman Farley, and set the indicator at the twenty mark.

Ten minutes later Lieutenant Benson reappeared on deck. First of all he noted the "Dodger's" position. Then, as Ensign Eph and Mallock appeared, Benson announced:

"Gentlemen, you will come down to Supper now. Mr. Somers, you will take command of the deck."

"Very good, sir," Eph responded. "Mallock, take the wheel."

Lieutenant Benson seated himself at the head of the table, with Ensign Hastings on his right. The midshipmen filled the remaining seats.

"We're necessarily a little crowded on a craft of this size," explained Benson. "Also the service is not what it would be on a battleship. We can carry but few men, so the cook must also act as waiter."

At once a very good meal was set on the table, and all hands were busily eating when Eph Somers came down the stairs, saluted and reported:

"Sir, we are on the bottom of Chesapeake Bay, with our nose in the mud!"

IX. THE TREACHERY OF MORTON

To the midshipmen that was rather startling news to receive while in the act of enjoying a very excellent meal.

Lieutenant Jack Benson, however, appeared to take the news very coolly.

"May I ask," he inquired, "whether any of you young gentlemen noticed anything unusual in our motion during the last two or three minutes?"

All six of the midshipmen glanced at him quickly, then at Darrin the other five looked, as though appointing him their spokesman.

"No, sir; we didn't note anything," replied Dave. "We were too busy with our food and with listening to the talk."

"But now you notice something?"

"Yes, sir."

"What?"

"That the boat appears motionless, as though speed had been stopped."

"And that is the case," smiled Benson. "Mr. Somers, soon after the soup was placed on the table, came in from the deck with the one man of his watch, closed the tower and signaled for changing to the electric motors. Then he filled the forward tanks and those amidships, at last filling the tanks astern. We came below so gently that you very intent young men never noticed the change. We are now on the bottom—in about how many feet of water, Mr. Somers?"

"About forty, sir," replied Eph.

The six midshipmen stared at one another, then felt a somewhat uncomfortable feeling creeping over them.

"Had it been daylight," smiled Benson, "you would have been warned by the disappearance of natural light and the increased brilliancy of the electric light here below. However, your experience serves to show you how easily up-to-date submarines may be handled."

"What do you think of the way the trick was done?" asked Hal Hastings, looking up with a quiet smile.

"It was marvelous," replied Midshipman Farley promptly.

"I would like to ask a question, sir, if I may," put in Midshipman Jetson.

"Go ahead, sir."

"Were submarines ever handled anywhere near as neatly before you three gentlemen began your work with the Pollard Company?"

"We didn't handle them as easily, at all events," replied Jack with a smile. "It has required a lot of work and practice, night and day. Steward, a plate for Mr. Somers."

"This is the way we generally manage at meal times," smiled Ensign Eph, as he took his place at table. "There's no use in keeping an officer and a man on deck, or a tender at the engines, unless we're going somewhere, in a hurry. So, in a case like this, where the deck officer wants his meal, we just sink into the mud and rest easy until the meal is over."

"Are you giving instruction, or merely seeking to amuse your guests, Mr. Somers?" Lieutenant Jack Benson asked quietly.

"Oh, I forgot," explained Eph, with another smile; "these young gentlemen are not yet acquainted with me. When they are they'll know that no one ever takes me too seriously."

"A bad habit for a superior officer, isn't it?" inquired Benson, looking around at his student guests. "But Mr. Somers may be taken very seriously indeed—when he's on duty. He is unreliable at table only."

"Unreliable at table?" echoed Eph, helping himself to a slice of roast meat. "Why, it seems to me that this is the one place where I can be depended upon to do all that is expected of me."

The others now sat back, out of courtesy, looking on and chatting while Ensign Eph Somers ate his meal. "There may be a few questions—or many—that you would like to ask," suggested Lieutenant Jack Benson. "If so, gentlemen, go ahead with your questions. For that matter, during your stay aboard, ask all the questions you can think of."

"Thank you, sir," replied Midshipman Dave Darrin, with a slight bow. "I have been thinking of one point on which I would be glad of information."

"And that is——"

"The full complement of this craft appears to consist of three officers and four enlisted men—that is, of course, outside of your combined cook and steward."

"Yes," nodded Benson.

"One of the officers is commanding officer; another is deck officer and the third engineer officer."

"Yes."

"Then, on a cruise," pursued Dave, "how can you divide watches and thus keep going night and day?"

"Why, originally," Jack replied, "we put on long cruises with only three aboard—the three who are at present officers. With a boat like the 'Dodger,' which carries so few men, the commanding officer cannot stand on his dignity and refuse to stand watch. I frequently take my trick at the wheel. That gives Mr. Somers his chance to go below and sleep."

"Yet Mr. Hastings is your only engineer officer."

"True, but two of our enlisted men are trained as engine-tenders. Our engines are rather simple, in the main, and an enlisted engine-tender can run our engine room for hours at a stretch under ordinary conditions. Of course, if anything out of the usual should happen while Mr. Hastings were taking his trick in his berth, he would have to be wakened. But we can often make as long a trip as from New York to Havana without needing to call Mr. Hastings once from his berth during his hours of rest."

"Then you have two enlisted men aboard who thoroughly understand your engines?" pressed Dave Darrin.

"Ordinarily," replied Hal Hastings, here breaking in. "But one of our engine-tenders reached the end of his enlisted period to-day, and, as he wouldn't re-enlist, we had to let him go. So the new enlisted man whom we took aboard is just starting in to learn his duties."

"Small loss in Morton," laughed Lieutenant Jack Benson. "He was enough of a natural genius around machinery, but he was a man of sulky and often violent temper. Really, I am glad that Morton took his discharge to-day. I never felt wholly safe while we had him aboard."

"He was a bad one," Ensign Hal Hastings nodded. "Morton might have done something to sink us, only that he couldn't do so without throwing away his own life."

"I don't know, sir, what I'd do, if I were a commanding officer and found that I had such a man in the crew," replied Midshipman Darrin.

"Why, in a man's first enlistment," replied Lieutenant Jack, "the commanding officer is empowered to give him a summary dismissal from the service. Morton was in his second enlistment, or I surely would have dropped him ahead of his time. I'm glad he's gone."

Ensign Eph had now finished his meal and was sitting back in his chair. Lieutenant Jack therefore gave the rising sign.

"I want to show the midshipmen everything possible on this trip," said the very young commanding officer. "So we won't lie here in the mud any more. Mr. Somers, you will return to the tower steering wheel, and you, Mr. Hastings, will take direct charge of the engines. I will gather the midshipmen around me here in the cabin, and show the young gentlemen how easily we control the rising of a submarine from the bottom."

Hal and Eph hurried to their stations. The midshipmen followed Jack Benson over to what looked very much like a switchboard. The young lieutenant held a wrench in his right hand.

"I will now turn on the compressed air device," announced Lieutenant Jack. "First of all I will empty the bow chambers of water by means of the compressed air; then the middle chambers, and, lastly, the stern chambers. On a smaller craft than this we would operate directly with the wrench. On a boat of the 'Dodger's' type we must employ the wrench first, but the work must be backed up with the performance of a small electric motor."

Captain Jack rapidly indicated the points at which the wrench was to be operated, adding:

"I want you to note these points as I explain them, for after I start with the wrench I shall have to work rapidly along from bow to stern tanks. Otherwise we would shoot up perpendicularly, instead of going up on a nearly even keel. Mr. Hastings, are you all ready at your post?"

"Aye, aye, sir," came back the engineer officer's reply.

"On post, Mr. Somers?"

"Aye, aye, sir."

Lieutenant Jack applied the wrench, calling snappily:

"Watch me. I've no time to explain anything now."

With that he applied one of the wrenches and gave it a turn. Instantly one of the electric motors in the engine-room began to vibrate.

Almost imperceptibly the bow of the "Dodger" began to rise. Lieutenant Jack, intent on preserving an even keel as nearly as possible, passed on to the middle station with his wrench.

Just as he applied the tool the electric motor ceased running.

"What's the matter, Mr. Hastings?" Jack inquired quietly. "Something blow out of the motor?"

The submarine remained slightly tilted up at the bow.

"I don't know, sir, as yet, what has happened," Hal Hastings answered back. "I'm going over the motor now."

In a moment more he stepped into the cabin, a much more serious look than usual on his fine face.

"This, looks like the man Morton's work," Hal announced holding a small piece of copper up before the eyes of the midshipmen. "Gentlemen, do you notice that the under side of this plate has been filed considerably?"

"Yes, sir," nodded Dan Dalzell, a queer look crossing his face. "Won't the motor operate without that plate being sound?"

"It will not."

The other midshipmen began to look and to feel strange.

"Then are we moored for good at the bottom of the bay?" asked Jetson.

"No; for we carry plenty of duplicate parts for this plate," replied Ensign Hal. "Come into the engine room and I will show you how I fit the duplicate part on."

Hal led the midshipmen, halting before a small work bench. He threw open a drawer under the bench.

"Every duplicate plate has been removed from this drawer," announced Hastings quietly. "Then, indeed, we are stuck in the mud, with no chance of rising. Gentlemen, I trust that the Navy will send divers here to rescue us before our fresh air gives out!"

X. "WE BELONG TO THE NAVY, TOO!"

"You mean, sir," asked Midshipman Jetson, his voice hoarse in spite of his efforts to remain calm, "that we are doomed to remain here at the bottom of the bay unless divers reach us in time?"

"Yes," nodded Hal Hastings, his voice as quiet and even as ever. "Unless we can find a duplicate plate—and that appears impossible—the 'Dodger' is wholly unable to help herself."

"If the outlook is as black as it appears, gentlemen," spoke Jack Benson from behind their backs, "I'm extremely sorry that such a disaster should have happened when we had six such promising young Naval officers aboard."

"Oh, hang us and our loss!" exploded Dave Darrin forgetting that he was addressing an officer. "I guess the country won't miss us so very much. But it surely will be a blow to the United States if the Navy's three best submarine experts have to be lost to the country to satisfy a discharged enlisted man's spite."

Eph Somers had come down from the tower. He, too, looked extremely grave, though he showed no demoralizing signs of fear.

As for the six midshipmen, they were brave. Not a doubt but that every one of them showed all necessary grit in the face of this fearful disaster. Yet they could not conceal the pallor in their faces, nor could they hide the fact that their voices shook a little when they spoke.

"Make a thorough search, Mr. Hastings," directed Lieutenant Jack Benson, in a tone as even as though he were discussing the weather. "It's barely possible that the duplicate plates have been only mislaid—that they're in another drawer."

Hal Hastings turned with one of his quiet smiles. He knew that the system in his beloved engine room was so exact that nothing there was ever misplaced.

"I'm looking, sir," Hastings answered, as he opened other drawers in turn, and explored them. "But I'm not at all hopeful of finding the duplicate plates. This damaged one had been filed thinner, which shows that it was done by design. The man who would do that trick purposely wouldn't leave any duplicate plates behind."

The four enlisted men and the cook had gathered behind their officers.

"Morton—the hound! This is his trick!" growled Seaman Kellogg hoarsely. "Many a time I've heard him brag that he'd get even for the punishments that were put upon him. And now he has gone and done it—the worse than cur!"

"No; there are no duplicate parts here," announced Ensign Hastings at last.

"See if you can't fit on the old, worn one," proposed Lieutenant Jack.

"No such luck!" murmured Hal Hastings. "Morton was too good a mechanic not to know bow to do his trick! He hasn't left us a single chance for our lives!"

None the less Hal patiently tried to fit the plate back and make the motor work, Lieutenant Jack, in the meantime, standing by the board with the wrench in hand. In the next ten minutes several efforts were made to start the motor, but all of them failed.

"And all for want of a bit of copper of a certain size, shape and thickness," sighed Midshipman Dan Dalzell.

"It does seem silly, doesn't it," replied Lieutenant Jack with a wan smile.

"At least," murmured Midshipman Wolgast, "we shall have a chance to show that we know how to die like men of the Navy."

"Never say die," warned Ensign Eph Somers seriously, "until you know you're really dead!"

This caused a laugh, and it eased them all.

"Well," muttered Jetson, "as I know that I can't be of any use here I'm going back into the cabin and sit down. I can at least keep quiet and make no fuss about it."

One after another the other midshipmen silently followed Jetson's example. They sat three on either side of the cabin, once in a while looking silently into the face of the others.

Not until many minutes more had passed did the three officers of the "Dodger" cease their efforts to find a duplicate plate for the motor.

Kellogg and another of the seamen, though they met their chance of death with grit enough, broke loose into mutterings that must have made the ears of ex-seaman Morton burn, wherever that worthy was.

"I wish I had that scoundrel here, under my heel," raged Seaman Kellogg.

"It will be wiser and braver, my man," broke in Lieutenant Jack quietly, "not to waste any needless thought on matters of violence. It will be better for us all if every man here goes to his death quietly and with a heart and head free from malice."

"You're right, sir," admitted Kellogg. "And I wish to say, sir, that I never served under braver officers."

"There won't be divers sent after us—at least, within the time that we're going to be alive," spoke Midshipman Farley soberly. "In the first place, Chesapeake Bay is a big place, and no Naval officer would know where to locate us."

"Mr. Benson," broke in Jetson suddenly, "I heard once that you submarine experts had invented a way of leaving a submarine boat by means of the torpedo tube. Why can't you do that now?"

"We could," smiled Lieutenant Jack Benson, "if our compressed air apparatus were working. We can't do the trick without compressed air. If we had any of that which we could use, we wouldn't need to leave the boat and swim to the top. We could take the boat to the surface instead."

"Then it's impossible, sir, to leave the boat?" questioned Jetson, his color again fading.

"Yes; if we opened the outer end of the torpedo tube, without being able to throw compressed air in there first, then the water would rush in and drown us."

"I'm filled with wonder," Dan Dalzell muttered to himself. "Staring certain death in the face, I can't understand how it happens that I'm not going around blubbering and making a frantic jackanapes of myself. There's not a chance of living more than an hour or two longer, and yet I'm calm. I wonder how it happens? It isn't because I don't know what is coming to me. I wonder if the other fellows feel just as I do?"

Dan glanced curiously around him at the other midshipmen faces.

"Do you know," said Darrin quietly, "I've often wondered how other men have felt in just such a fix as we're in now."

"Well, how do you feel, Darry?" Farley invited.

"I'm blessed if I really know. Probably in an instant when I fail briefly to realize all that this means my feeling is that I wouldn't have missed such an experience for anything."

"You could have all my share of it, if I could make an effective transfer," laughed Wolgast.

"If we ever do get out of this alive," mused Page aloud, "I don't doubt we'll look back to this hour with a great throb of interest and feel glad that we've had one throb that most men don't get in a lifetime."

"But we won't get out," advanced Jetson. "We're up hard against it. It's all over but the slow strangling to death as the air becomes more rare."

"I wonder if it will be a strangling and choking," spoke Darrin again in a strange voice; "or whether it will be more like an asphyxiation? In the latter case we may drop over, one at a time, without pain, and all of us be finished within two or three minutes from the time the first one starts."

"Pleasant!" uttered Wolgast grimly. "Let's start something—a jolly song, for instance."

"Want to die more quickly?" asked Dalzell. "Singing eats up the air faster."

Lieutenant Jack Benson came out of the engine room for a moment. He took down the wrench and went back to the engine room. But first he paused, for a brief instant, shooting at the midshipmen a look that was full of pity for them. For himself, Jack Benson appeared to have no especial feeling. Then the young commanding officer went back into the engine room, closing the door after him.

"What did he shut the door for?" asked Jetson.

"Probably they're going to do something, in there, that will call for a good deal of physical exertion."

"Well, what of that?" demanded Jetson, not seeing the point.

"Why," Dave explained, "a man at laborious physical work uses up more air than a man who is keeping quiet. If the three officers are going to work hard in there then they've closed the door in order not to deprive us of air."

"We called them kids, at first," spoke Dan

Dalzell ruefully, "but they're a mighty fine lot of real men, those three acting Naval officers."

Dave Darrin rose and walked over to the engine room, opening the door and looking in. Hal and Eph were hard at work over the motor, while Lieutenant Jack Benson, with his hand in his pockets, stood watching their efforts.

"I beg your pardon, sir," said Darrin, saluting, "but did you close this door in order to leave more air to us?"

"Yes," answered Jack Benson. "Go back and sit down."

"I hope you won't think us mutinous, sir," Darrin returned steadily, "but we don't want any more than our share of whatever air is left on board this craft. We belong to the Navy, too."

From the after end of the cabin came an approving grunt. It was here that the cook and the four seamen had gathered.

With the door open the midshipmen could see what was going on forward, and they watched with intense fascination.

Eph Somers had taken 'the too-thin copper' plate to the work-bench, and had worked hard over it, trying to devise some way of making it fit so that it would perform its function in the motor. Now, he and Hal Hastings struggled and contrived with it. Every time that the pair of submarine boys thought they had the motor possibly ready to run Hal tried to start the motor. Yet he just as often failed to get a single movement from the mechanism.

"I reckon you might about as well give it up," remarked Lieutenant Jack Benson coolly.

"What's the use of giving up," Eph demanded, "as long as there's any life left in us?"

"I mean," the young lieutenant explained, "that you'd better give up this particular attempt and make a try at something else."

"All right, if you see anything else that we can do," proposed Eph dryly. "Say, here's a quarter to pay for your idea."

Seemingly as full of mischief as ever, Eph Somers pressed a silver coin into Jack Benson's hand.

But Jack, plainly impatient with such trifling, frowned slightly as he turned and pitched the quarter forward.

"This isn't a twenty-five-cent proposition," Benson remarked. "In fact, all the money on earth won't save us this time!"

XI. A QUARTER'S WORTH OF HOPE

"Until some one can think of something else, I'm going to keep on trying the hopeless thing and endeavoring to make this old, thin plate work," declared Hal Hastings, who was still bent over the motor, studying it intently.

Benson had turned back to examine the work, after tossing the coin away, but just as suddenly he glanced forward again.

At the extreme forward end of the engine room of the "Dodger" was another bench. Here were a vise and other heavier tools. On the floor under this bench were stowed many mechanical odds and ends—pieces of wood, coils of rope, even a bundle of tent-pegs, though nothing was visible of a metallic nature.

"You fellows keep at work," Jack Benson shot back suddenly over his shoulder.

"Where you going?" demanded Eph.

"Forward."

That much was evident, but Jack was now down on hands and knees carefully yet feverishly moving the wooden articles, cordage and such things from under the forward bench.

"What are you doing?" called Eph. "Go ahead with your work—there's no time to be lost," replied Lieutenant Jack.

"Hold this a moment, Eph," Hal Hastings requested, and Somers's attention was forced back to the motor.

Sc-cratch! Flare! Jack Benson was using matches under that work bench, now that be had made some clear space there.

"I wonder if Jack has gone clean daffy?" half chuckled Somers under his breath.

"What are you talking about?" Hastings demanded.

"Jack's lighting matches up forward, under the other bench."

"What if he is?"

"Maybe he thinks he can explode some gasoline and blow us to the surface."

"Quit your nonsense," returned Hal almost angrily, "and help me with this job."

"I'm waiting to see if Jack is going to let out a maniac yell," grimaced Eph Somers.

"Quit your——"

"Wow! Whoop!" uttered young Benson excitedly. "Never tell me again that it's unlucky to throw money away! Whoop!"

"What did I tell you?" demanded Eph. "If Jack's making a noise like that," retorted Hastings, as be straightened up and wheeled about, "he's got a mighty good reason for it."

"Of course. Every lunatic has loads of good reasons for anything he does," muttered Eph.

"Look here, fellows!" ordered Jack Benson, almost staggering as he approached them.

"Great Dewey! Am I going crazy, too?" muttered Eph, staring hard. "What I think I see in Jack's hands are some of the missing copper plates."

"It's exactly what you do see," announced Jack Benson, his face beaming.

"But how—"

"How they came to be there I don't know," Benson replied. "But when I threw away your quarter, Eph, it rolled under the bench. There wasn't supposed to be anything metallic under the bench, but I felt almost, sure that I had heard the silver strike against something metallic. Even then it seemed like a crazy notion to me. I didn't really expect to find anything, but some uncontrollable impulse urged me to go hustling under the bench. And so I found these duplicate plates, wedged in behind a lot of junk and right up against the partition."

Hal Hastings, in the meantime, had taken one of the plates from Lieutenant Jack's hand, and was now quietly fitting it where it belonged on the motor.

The six midshipmen, as soon as they realized what had happened, had sprung eagerly to the door of the engine room and stood peering in. Behind them were the cook and crew of the "Dodger."

Presently Hal straightened up.

"Sir," he said gravely, "I have hopes that if you test the compressed air apparatus you will find that this motor will do its share."

Midshipmen and crew drew back as Jack and Eph came out of the engine room. Lieutenant Jack had his wrench in hand, and went back to his former post.

"Young gentlemen," the commanding officer announced coolly, "we will take up, at the point where we were interrupted, the work of expelling the water from the compartments Are you ready, Mr. Hastings?"

"Right by my post, sir," came from Hal.

The six midshipmen gathered about Benson with a stronger sense of fascination than ever. Eph stepped past them to the stairs leading—to the little conning tower.

With steady hand Jack Benson turned the wrench. The motor began to "mote" and there was a sense of being lifted.

"Going up!" sang Ensign Eph, with a grin.

Nor could Dan Dalzell help imitating the grin and calling out jovially:

"Let me out at the top floor, please!"

Having set the compressed air at work on the forward tanks, Jack Benson quickly shifted the wrench, and without a word, getting at work on the midship's compartments. Then the stern tanks were emptied.

"May I come up, sir?" called Dan, his voice trembling with joy, at the foot of the stairs.

"Very good," Eph sang back. "Room for only one, though,"

So Dan Dalzell hastily mounted the iron stairs until he found himself side by side with Eph Somers.

For a few seconds all was inky darkness on the other side of the thick plate glass of the conning tower. Then, all in a flash, Dalzell caught sight of the twinkling stars as the dripping conning tower rose above the top of the water.

"I have the honor to report that all's well again, and that we're on earth once more," Dan announced, as he came down the steps into the little cabin.

"Attention, gentlemen," called Lieutenant Jack Benson, as soon as the "Dodger" was once more under way, her sea-going gasoline engines now performing the work lately entrusted to the electric motors.

At the word "attention" the six midshipmen became rigidly erect, their hands dropping at their sides.

"Gentlemen," continued Benson, "I realize that the late strain has been a severe one on us all. We of the 'Dodger' have been through the same sort of thing before. You midshipmen have not. If you feel, therefore, that you would prefer to have me head about and return to the Naval Academy I give you my word that I shall not think you weak-kneed for making the request."

"Thank you, sir," replied Dave Darrin, "but we belong to the United States Navy and we have no business to suffer with nerves. If our wish alone is to be consulted, we prefer to finish the cruise as we would any other tour of duty."

Dave's five comrades in the Brigade of Midshipmen loved him for that answer!

XII. READY TO TRIM WEST POINT

"Have had an experience, sir, that we shall never forget, and one that we wouldn't have missed!"

Thus spoke Dave Darrin the, following afternoon, as he saluted the young officers of the "Dodger" before going over the side as the boat lay alongside the wall of the basin.

To which the other midshipmen agreed.

"We have enjoyed having you aboard," replied Lieutenant Jack Benson. "None of us will ever forget this cruise."

Then the six midshipmen strode briskly along the walks until they reached Bancroft Hall.

It wasn't long ere news of the adventure of the night before got whispered along the decks. Then Dave and Dan, Farley and Page, Jetson and Wolgast all had so much midshipman company that it was a relief when the evening study hours came around.

All six of the midshipmen had to tell the story of their submarine experience until all of them fairly hated to talk about the matter. Seaman Morton was never heard from again, and so did not come in for his share of the excitement. However, it was not destined to last long, for the football season was at its height and every blue-clad middy thought, talked and dreamed about the Navy team.

A good team it was, too, and a good year for the Navy. The young men of the Naval Academy played one of their most brilliant seasons of football.

Dave, by a bigger effort than any one understood, forced back his interest in the gridiron until he played a brilliant game.

The Navy won more victories than it had done before in any one of fifteen seasons of football.

Yet report said that the Army, too, was playing a superb game, considering that it had been deprived of its two best players, Prescott and Holmes.

Up to the last Dave continued to hope that Cadet Dick Prescott might be restored to the Army eleven. Dick's letters from West Point, however, appeared to indicate clearly that he was not to play. Therefore Greg Holmes wouldn't play.

At last came the fateful day, the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Early the Brigade of Midshipmen was marched over to the trolley line, where a long string of cars waited to receive them.

"We want an extra car to-night," one first classman called jovially to the car inspector who was in charge of the transportation. "We want that extra car to bring back the Army scalp in."

All the way to Baltimore and thence to Philadelphia, Dave Darrin was unusually quiet. Dalzell, on the other hand, made noise enough for both of them.

"Darry hasn't the sulks over anything, has be?" Wolgast anxiously asked Dalzell.

"Don't you believe it," Dan retorted.

"But he's so abominably quiet."

"Saving all his breath to use on the field."

"Are you sure Darry is in form?" persisted Wolgast.

"Yes. Wait and see."

"I'll have to," sighed Wolgast, with another sidelong glance at Darrin's emotionless face.

The Navy team and subs. arrived at dressing quarters nearly an hour before it would be necessary to tog.

As the West Point men were on hand, also, Dave stepped outside. Almost the first man he met was a tall, slim, soldierly looking fellow in the cadet gray.

"Aren't you Fields?" asked Dave, holding out his hand.

"Yes," replied the cadet, giving his own hand.

"And you're Darrin—one of the few men we're afraid of."

"Does Prescott play to-day?" Dave asked eagerly.

The West Pointer's brow clouded.

"No," he replied. "Mr. Prescott isn't a subject for conversation at the Military Academy. Mr. Prescott is in Coventry."

"Sad mistake," muttered Darrin.

"Eh?"

"A sad mistake. You men have made a bad bungle; I know it."

"It is a matter of internal discipline in the corps," replied the West Point cadet, speaking much more coldly.

"Yes, I know it," Dave replied quickly, "and I beg your pardon for having seemed to criticise the action of the Corps of Cadets. However, anything that unpleasantly affects Dick Prescott is a sore subject with me. Prescott is one of the best friends I have in the world."

"Why, I've heard something about that," replied Fields in a less constrained tone. "You and Mr. Prescott are old school cronies."

"Of the closest kind," Dave nodded. "That's why I feel certain that Dick Prescott never did, and never could do, anything dishonorable. You'll surely find it out before long, and then the Corps will make full amends."

"I fear not," replied Cadet Fields. "Mr. Prescott had every opportunity given him to clear himself, and failed to do so to the satisfaction of the Corps. Therefore he'll never graduate from the Military Academy. It wouldn't do him any good to try. He'd only be ostracized in the Army if he had the cheek to stay in the Corps."

"Let's not talk about that part of it any more," begged Dave. "But you'll miss Prescott from your fighting line to-day."

"That's very likely," assented the West Point man. "I'm glad we haven't Mr. Prescott here, but we'd be heartily glad if we had some one else as good on the football field."

"And you haven't Holmes, either?" sighed Dave.

"That isn't any one's fault but Holmesy's," frowned Cadet Fields. "We wanted Holmesy to play, and we gave him every chance, but——"

"But he wouldn't," finished Dave. "No more would I play on the Navy team if the fellows had done anything unjust to Dalzell."

"Do you feel that you're going to have an easy walk-over with us to-day?" demanded Cadet Fields cheerily.

"No; but we're prepared to fight. We'll get the game if it's in any way possible," Darrin assured his questioner.

"Are the bonfires back in Annapolis all ready to be lighted to-night?" inquired Fields smilingly.

"They must be."

"What a lot of unnecessary labor," laughed the West Point man.

"Why?" challenged Dave.

"Because the Army is going to win again." That "again" caused Dave Darrin to wince. "We win almost every time, you know," Fields explained.

"Almost every time?" challenged Dan Dalzell, joining the pair. "Are you sure of your statistics?"

"Oh, I have the statistics, of course," Fields answered. "That's why I speak so confidently."

At this point three more West Point men approached.

"Hey, fellows," called Fields good-humoredly. "Do you know of an impression that I find to prevail among the middies to-day?"

"What is that?" inquired one of the gray-clad cadets, as the newcomers joined the group.

"Why, the middies seem to think that they're going to take the Army's scalp to-day."

"Is that really your idea of the matter?" asked one of the gray-clad cadets.

"So Mr. Fields has said," Dave answered.

"But what do you say?"

"About the most that I feel like saying," Darrin answered as quietly as ever, "is that the Navy prefers to do its bragging afterwards."

"An excellent practice," nodded one of the cadets. "You've acquired the habit through experience, I presume. It has saved your having to swallow a lot of your words on many occasions."

All laughed good-naturedly. Though there was the most intense rivalry between the two government military schools, yet all were gentlemen, and the fun-making could not be permitted to go beyond the limits of ordinary teasing.

"What's your line-up?" broke in Dan Dalzell.

"Haven't you fellows gotten hold of the cards yet?" asked one of the West Point men. "Then take a look over mine."

Standing together Dave and Dan eagerly glanced down the printed line-up of the Military Academy.

"I know a few of these names," ventured Darrin, "and they're the names of good men. Several of the other names I don't know at all. And you've left out the names of the two Army men that we're most afraid of in a game of football."

"It seems queer to think of an Army line-up without Prescott and Holmes," Dan declared musingly.

Over the faces of the cadets there crept a queer look, but none of them spoke.

"So you've boycotted Prescott and Holmes?" pursued Dalzell.

"Yes," replied one of the cadets. "Or, rather, Prescott is in Coventry, and Holmes prefers to stand by his friend in everything. Holmes, being Prescott's roommate, doesn't have to keep away from Mr. Prescott."

"Humph!" laughed Dan. "I think I can see Greg Holmes turning his back upon Dick Prescott. Why, Greg wouldn't do that even if he had to get out of the Army in consequence."

"We did the only thing we could with the Prescott fellow," spoke up another cadet.

Dave Darrin's dark eyes flashed somewhat.

"Gentlemen," he begged quietly, "will you do me the very great favor not to refer to Prescott slightingly as a 'fellow.' He's one of the noblest youngsters I've ever known, and I'm his friend through thick and thin. Of course, I don't expect you to know it yet, but I feel positive that you've made a tremendous mistake in sending to Coventry one of nature's noblemen."

"Hm!" muttered some of the cadets, and slight frowns were visible.

"And when you lose the game to-day," continued Dan Dalzell, "it may be a comfort to you to know that you might possibly have won it if you had had Prescott and Holmes in your battle front."

"Prescott isn't the only football player in the Army," returned Cadet Fields. "Nor are he and Holmes the only pair of 'em."

"You'll lose without that pair, though," ventured Dave. "And it must shake the confidence of your men, too, for you've come here without your two best men."

"Of course, we have to manage our own affairs," interposed one of the cadets.

"Gentlemen," spoke up Dave quickly, "of course, you have to manage your own problems, and no one else is fitted to do so. If I've gone too far in what might have seemed like criticism, then I beg you to forget it. I don't want to be suspected of any disagreeable intent. If I spoke almost bitterly it was because Prescott is my very dear friend. I have another, and a real grievance—I wanted to test myself out today against Dick Prescott, as any two friends may contest to vanquish one another on the field of sports."

"No one had any thought, I am sure, Mr. Darrin, of accusing you of wishing to be disagreeable," spoke up Cadet Fields. "We believe you to be a prince of good and true fellows; in fact, we accept you at the full estimate of the Brigade of Midshipmen. Wade in and beat us to-day, if you can—but you can't Prescott or no Prescott."

"Better run inside and tog!" called Wolgast from a distance.

"You'll excuse us now, won't you?" asked Dave. "Come along, Danny boy."

As the two midshipmen lifted their caps and hastened away, Fields gazed after them speculatively:

"There goes the Navy's strength in to-day's game," he announced.

"I wonder if we have done Prescott any wrong?" said another cadet slowly.

"That question has been settled by formal class action," replied another. "It's a closed matter."

Then these West Point men strolled over to quarters to get into togs. As they were to play subs. they did not need to be as early at togging as the members of the team.

Out on Franklin Field thousands and thousands of Americans, from the President of the United States down, waited impatiently for the excitement of the day to begin.

On either side of the field some hundreds of seats were still left vacant. The music of a band now floated out, proclaiming that one set of seats was soon to be filled. Then in, through a gate, marched the Military Academy band at the head of the Corps of Cadets. Frantic cheers broke loose on the air, and there was a great fluttering of the black and gray banners carried by the Army's boosters in the audience. Gray and steel-like the superb corps marched in across the field, and over to the seats assigned to them.

Barely had the Army band ceased playing when another struck up in the distance. It was now the turn of the fine Naval Academy band to play the Brigade of Midshipmen on to the field. Again the air vibrated with the intensity of the loyal cheers that greeted the middies.

Over in quarters, after the middies of the team had togged, a few anxious minutes of waiting followed. What was to be the fate of the day?

"Darry," spoke Wolgast in a voice full of feeling, "you're not woozy to-day, are you?"

"I don't believe I am," smiled Dave.

"Well, you know, old chap, you've been unaccountably stale—or something—at times this season. You haven't been the real Darry—always. You're feeling in really bully form today?"

"I'm pretty sure that I'm in good winning form," Dave replied. "Will that be enough?"

Wolgast looked him over, then rejoined:

"Somehow, I think you're in pretty good form. I'll feel better, very likely, after we've played for ten minutes. Darry, old fellow, just don't forget how much the Navy depends upon you."

"Are you all right, Davy?" Dan Dalzell demanded in a more than anxious undertone.

"I certainly am, Danny boy."

"But, you know——"

"Yes; I know that, for a while, I showed signs of going fuzzy. But I'm over that."

"Good!" chuckled Dan, as he caught the resolute flash in Darrin's eyes. "I was fearfully afraid that you'd go bad simply because you didn't have Prescott to go up against. For a good many days that very fact seemed to prey upon your mind and make you indifferent."

"Danny boy, I am going to play my mightiest, just because Prescott isn't with the Army!"

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that I'm going to make the West Point fellows most abominably sorry that they didn't have Dick Prescott on their eleven. And you want to stand with me in that, Danny boy. Keep hammering the Army to-day, and with every blow just think it's another blow struck for Dick Prescott and Greg Holmes. Oh, we'll trim West Point in their joint name!"

XIII. WHEN "BRACE UP, ARMY!" WAS THE WORD

"All out for practice!" called Wolgast.

Team men and subs. bunched, the Navy players trotted on to the field, amid a tempest of wild cheering.

No sooner had Dave Darrin halted for an instant, when he broke into a whirlwind of sprinting speed. Dan Dalzell tried to keep up with him, but found it impossible.

"Good old Darry!" yelled a hoarse voice from one of the grandstands. "That's the way you'll go around the end to-day!"

Some of the other Navy players were kicking a ball back and forth. The Army team was not yet on the field, but it came, a few moments later, and received a tremendous ovation from its own solid ranks of rooters.

This time Darrin barely glanced at any of the Army players. He knew that Prescott and Holmes were not there. Whoever else might be, he was not interested.

Only a very few minutes were allowed for practice. During this exercise the Army and Navy bands played alternately.

Then the referee signaled the bands to stop.

Tril-l-l-l! sounded the whistle, and Army and Navy captains trotted to the center of the field to watch the toss of the coin. Wolgast won, and awarded the kick-off to the Army.

Then the teams jogged quickly to places, and in an instant all was in readiness.

Over the spectators' seats a hush had fallen. Even the Army and Navy cheer leaders looked nearly as solemn as owls. The musicians of the two bands lounged in their seats and instruments had been laid aside. There would be no more noise until one team or the other had started to do real things.

Quick and sharp came the signal. West Point kicked and the ball was in play.

Navy's quarterback, after a short run, placed himself to seize the arching pigskin out of the air. Then he ran forward, protected by the Navy interference.

By a quick pass the ball came into Dave Darrin's hands. Dalzell braced himself as he hit the strong Army line.

It was like butting a stone wall, but Darrin got through, with the aid of effective interference.

Army men bunched and tackled, but Dave struggled on. He did not seem to be exerting much strength, but his elusiveness was wonderful,

Then, after a few yards had been gained, Dave was borne to the earth, the bottom of a struggling mass until, the referee's whistle ended the scrimmage.

Annapolis players could not help shooting keen glances of satisfaction at each other. The test had been a brief one, but now they saw that Darrin was in form, and that he could be depended upon to-day, unless severe accident came to cripple him.

Again the ball was put in play, this time going over to Farley and Page on the right end.

Only a yard did Farley succeed in advancing the ball, but that was at least a gain.

Then again came the pigskin to the left flank, and Dave fought it through the enemy's battle line for a distance of eight feet ere he was forced to earth with it.

By this time the West Point captain was beginning to wonder what ailed his men. The cadet players themselves were worried. If the Navy could play like this through the game, it looked as though Annapolis might wipe out, in one grand and big-scored victory, the memory of many past defeats.

"Brace up, Army!" was the word passed through West Point's eleven.

"Good old Darry!" chuckled Wolgast, and, though he did not like to work Darrin too hard at the outset, yet it was also worth while to shake the Army nerve as much as possible. So Wolgast signaled quarterback to send the ball once more by Midshipman Dave.

Another seven yards was gained by Darrin. The West Point men were gasping, more from chagrin than from actual physical strain. Was it going to prove impossible to stop these mad Navy rushes?

Then Wolgast reluctantly as he saw Dave limp slightly, decided upon working Page and Farley a little harder just at present. So back the ball traveled to the right flank was making, however, the Navy cheermaster started a triumphant yell going, in which nearly eight hundred midshipmen joined with all their lung power.

Of course, the Army cheermaster came back with a stirring West Point yell, but one spectator, behind the side lines, turned and bawled at the Army cheermaster:

"That's right, young man! Anything on earth to keep up your crowd's courage!"

In the laugh that followed many a gray-clad cadet joined simply because he could not help himself.

"If we don't break at some point it's all ours to-day," Wolgast was informing the players nearest him. "I've never seen Darry so wildly capable as he is right now. The demon of victory seems to have seized him."

Dave's limp had vanished. He was ready for work—aching for it. Wolgast worked his left flank once more, and the Army was sorely pressed.

"Brace up, Army!" was the word passing again among the West Point men. Douglass, captain of the Army team, was scolding under his breath.

But straight on Darrin and Dalzell worked the ball. It was when Wolgast decided to rest his left that Farley and Page came in for more work. These two midshipmen were excellent football men, but the Army's left was well defended. The Navy lost the ball on downs. But the Army boys were sweating, for the Navy was now within nine yards of goal line.

The Army fought it back, gaining just half a yard too little in three plays, so the ball came back to the blue and gold ranks of the Navy.

"Brace, Army!" was the word that Cadet Douglass passed. "And look out, on the right, for Darrin and Dalzell!"

There was a feint of sending the ball to Farley, but Darrin had it instead. The entire Army line, however, was alert for this very trick. Playing in sheer desperation, the cadets stopped the midshipmen when but a yard and a half had been gained. With the next play the gain was but half a yard. The third play was blocked, and once more the cadets received the pigskin.

Both Army and Navy cheermasters now refrained from inviting din. Those of the spectators who boosted for the Army were now silent, straining their vision and holding their breath. It began to look, this year, as though the Navy could do with the Army as it pleased.

Wolgast lined his men up for a fierce onslaught Darrin and Dalzell, panting, looked like a pair who would die in their tracks ere allowing the ball to go by them.

In a moment more the Army signal was being called out crisply. The whistle sounded, and both elevens were in instant action.

But the cadets failed to get through. The middies were driving them back. In sheer desperation the cadet with the ball turned and dropped behind the Army goal line—a safety.

XIV. THE NAVY GOAT GRINS

All at once the Navy band chopped out a few swift measures of triumphant melody.

The entire Brigade of Midshipmen cheered under its cheermaster. Thousands of blue and gold Navy banners fluttered through the stands.

That safety had counted two on the score for the Navy.

Given breathing time, the Army now brought the ball out toward midfield, and once more the savage work began. The Navy had gained ten yards, when the time-keeper signaled the end of the first period.

As the players trotted off the Navy was exultant, the Army depressed. Captain Douglass was scowling.

"You fellows will have to brace!" he snapped. "Are you going to let the little middies run over us?"

"I shall have no bad feeling, suh, if you think it well to put a fresh man in my place, suh," replied Cadet Anstey.

"Hang it, I don't want a man in your place!" retorted Douglass angrily. "I want you, and every other man, Anstey, to do each better work than was done in that period. Hang it, fellows, the middies are making sport of us."

Among the Navy players there was not so much talk. All were deeply contented with events so far.

"I've no remarks to make, fellows," Captain Wolgast remarked. "You are all playing real football."

"At any rate Darry and his grinning twin are," chuckled Jetson. "My, but you can see the hair rise on the Army right flank when Darry and Danny leap at them!"

In the second period, which started off amid wild yelling from the onlookers, the Army fought hard and fiercely, holding back the Navy somewhat. During the period two of the cadets were so badly hurt that the surgeons ordered them from the field. Two fresh subs. came into the eleven, and after that the Army seemed endowed with a run of better luck. The second period closed with no change in the score, though at the time of the timekeeper's interference the Navy had the ball within eleven yards of the Army goal line.

"We've got the Navy stopped, now, I think," murmured Douglass to his West Point men. "All we've got to do now is to keep 'em stopped."

"If they don't break our necks, or make us stop from heart failure, suh," replied Cadet Anstey, with a grimace.

"We've got the Army tired enough. We must go after them in the third period," announced Captain Wolgast.

But this did not happen until the third time that the Navy got the pigskin. Then Darrin and Dalzell, warned, began to run the ball down the field. Here a new feint was tried. When the Navy started in motion every Army man was sure that Wolgast was going to try to put through a center charge. It was but a ruse, however. Darrin had the pigskin, and Dalzell was boosting him through. The entire Navy line charged with the purpose of one man. There came the impact, and then the Army line went down. Darrin was charging, Dalzell and Jetson running over all who got in the way. The halfback on that side of the field was dodged. Dalzell and Jetson bore down on the victim at the same instant, and Dave, running to the side like a flash, had the ball over the line.

Wolgast himself made the kick to follow, and the score was now eight to nothing.

The applause that followed was enough to turn wiser heads. When play was resumed the Army was fighting mad. It was now victory or death for the soldier boys. The West Point men were guilty of no fouls. They played squarely and like gentlemen, but they cared nothing for snapping muscles and sinews. Before the mad work the Navy was borne back. Just before the close of the third period, the Navy was forced to make a safety on its own account.

"But Wolgast was satisfied, and the Navy coaches more than pleased.

"There's a fourth period coming," Wolgast told himself. "But for Darry and his splendid interference the Army would get our scalp yet. Darry looks to be all right, and I believe he is. He'll hold out for the fourth."

Eight to two, and the game three quarters finished. The Army cheermaster did his duty, but did it half dejectedly, the cadets following with rolling volumes of noise intended to mask sinking hearts. When it came the Navy's turn to yell, the midshipmen risked the safety of their windpipes. The Naval Academy Band was playing with unwonted joy.

"Fellows, nothing on earth will save us but a touchdown and a kick," called Douglass desperately, when he got his West Point men aside. "That will tie the score. It's our best chance to-day."

"Unless, suh," gravely observed Anstey, "We can follow that by driving the midshipmen into a safety."

"And we could do even that, if we had Prescott and Holmesy here," thought Douglass, with sinking heart to himself. He was careful not to repeat that sentiment audibly.

"Holmesy ought to be here to-day, and working," growled one of the Army subs. "He's a sneak, just to desert on Mr. Prescott's account."

"None of that!" called Doug sharply.

The Army head coach came along, talking quietly but forcefully to the all but discouraged cadets. Then he addressed himself to Douglass, explaining what he thought were next to the weakest points in the Navy line.

"You ought to be able to save the score yet, Mr. Douglass," wound up coach.

"I wish some one else had the job!" sighed Doug to himself.

"Fellows, the main game that is left," explained Wolgast to the midshipmen, "is to keep West Point from scoring. As to our own points, we have enough now—though more will be welcome."

Play began in the fourth period. At first it was nip and tuck, neck and neck. But the Army braced and put the pigskin within sixteen yards of the Navy's goal line. Then the men from Annapolis seemed suddenly to wake up. Darrin, who had had little to do in the last few plays, was now sent to the front again. Steadily, even brilliantly, he, Dalzell and Jetson figured in the limelight plays. Yard after yard was gained, while the Army eleven shivered. At last it came to the inevitable. The Army was forced to use another safety. Stinging under the sense of defeat, the cadet players put that temporary chance to such good advantage that they gradually got the pigskin over into Naval territory. But there the midshipmen held it until the timekeeper interposed.

The fourth period and the game were over. West Point had gone down in a memorable, stinging defeat. The Navy had triumphed, ten to two.

What a crash came from the Naval Academy Band! Yet the Military Academy Band, catching the spirit and the tune, joined in, and both bands blared forth, the musicians making themselves heard faintly through all the tempest of huzzas.

Dave Darrin smiled faintly as he hurried away from the field. All his personal interest in football had vanished. He had played his last game of football and was glad that the Navy had won; that was about all.

Yet he was not listless—far from it. On the contrary Dave fairly ran to dressing quarters, hustled under a shower and then began to towel and dress.

For out in the audience, well he knew, had sat Belle Meade and her mother.

"Darry, you're a wonder!" cried Wolgast. "Every time to-day we called upon you you were ready with the push."

But Dave, rushing through his dressing, barely heard this and other praise that was showered on him.

"I'll get along before assembly time, Davy," whispered Dan Dalzell.

"Come along now," Dave called back.

"Oh, no! I know that you and Belle want some time to yourselves," murmured Dalzell wisely. "I'll get along at the proper time."

Dave didn't delay to argue. He stepped briskly outside, then into the field, his eyes roving over the thousands of spectators who still lingered. At last a waving little white morsel of a handkerchief rewarded Darrin's search.

"Oh, you did just splendidly to-day," was Belle's enthusiastic greeting, as Dave stepped up to the young lady and her mother. "I've heard lots of men say that it was all Darrin's victory."

"Yes; you're the hero of Franklin Field, this year," smiled Mrs. Meade.

"Laura Bentley and her mother didn't come over?" Dave inquired presently.

"No; of course not—-after the way that the cadets used Dick Prescott," returned Belle. "Wasn't it shameful of the cadets to treat a man like Dick in that fashion?"

"I have my opinion, of course," Dave replied moodily, "but it's hardly for a midshipman to criticise the cadets for their own administration of internal discipline in their own corps. The absence of Prescott and Holmes probably cost the Army the game to-day."

"Not a bit of it!" Belle disputed warmly. "Dave, don't belittle your own superb work in that fashion! The Army would have lost to-day if the West Point eleven had been made up exclusively of Prescotts and Holmeses!"

As Belle spoke thus warmly her gaze wandered, resting, though not by intent, on the face of a young Army officer passing at that moment.

"If the remark was made to me, miss," smiled the Army officer, "I wish to say that I wholly agree with you. The Navy's playing was the most wonderful that I ever saw."

Dave, in the meantime, had saluted, then stood at attention until the Army officer had passed.

"There!" cried Belle triumphantly. "You have it from the other side, now—from the enemy."

"Hardly from the enemy," replied Dave, laughing. "Between the United States Army and the United States Navy there can never be a matter of enmity. Annually, in football, the Army and Navy teams are opponents—rivals, perhaps—but never enemies."

Mrs. Meade had strolled away for a few yards, the better to leave the young people by themselves.

"Dave," announced Belle almost sternly, "you've simply got to say something savage about the action of the West Point men in sending Dick Prescott to Coventry."

"The West Point men didn't do it," rejoined Dave. "It was all done by the members of the first class alone."

"Well, then, you must say something very disagreeable about the first class at the Military Academy."

"But why?" persisted Dave Darrin. He was disgusted enough over the action of the first class cadets, but, being in the service himself, he felt it indelicate in him to criticise the action of the cadets of the United States Military Academy.

"Why?" repeated Belle. "Why, simply because Laura Bentley will insist on asking me when I get home what you had to say about Dick's case. If I can't tell Laura that you said something pretty nearly awful, then Laura will be terribly hurt."

"Shall I swear?" asked Dave innocently.

Belle opened her eyes wide in amazement.

"No, you won't swear," Belle retorted. "Profanity isn't the accomplishment of a gentleman. But you must say something about Dick's case which will show her that all of Dick's friends are standing by the poor fellow."

"But, Belle, you know it isn't considered very manly for a fellow in one branch of the service to say anything against fellows in the other branch."

"Not even—for Laura's sake?"

"Oh, well," proposed Midshipman Darrin, squirming about between the horns of the dilemma, "you just think of whatever will please Laura most to hear from me."

"Yes——?" pressed Miss Meade.

"Then tell it to her and say that I said it."

"But how can I say that you said it if you didn't say it?" demanded Belle, pouting prettily.

"Easiest thing in the world, Belle. I authorize you, fully, to say whatever you like about Dick, as coming from me. If I authorize you to say it, then you won't be fibbing, will you?"

Belle had to think that over. It was a bit of a puzzle, as must be admitted.

"Now, let's talk about ourselves," Darrin pressed her. "I see Danny boy coming, with that two-yard grin of his, and we won't have much further chance to talk about ourselves."

The two young people, therefore, busied themselves with personal talk. Dan drifted along, but merely raised his cap to Belle, then stationed himself by Mrs. Meade's side.

It was not until Dave signaled quietly that Dalzell came over to take Belle's proffered hand and chat for a moment.

The talk was all too short for all concerned. A call of the bugle signaled the midshipmen to leave friends and hasten back for assembly.

It was not until the train had started away from Philadelphia that Dave and Dan were all but mobbed by way of congratulation. Wolgast, Jetson, Farley, Page and others also came in for their share of good words.

"And to think, Darry, that you can never play on the Navy eleven again!" groaned a second classman.

"You'll have some one else in my place," laughed Dave.

"The Navy never before had a football player like you, and we'll never have one again," insisted the same man. "Dalzell's kind come once in about every five years, but your kind, Darry, never come back—in the Navy!"

XV. DAN FEELS AS "SOLD" AS HE LOOKS

It was the first hop after the New Year.

"Tell me one thing Dave," begged Belle Meade, who, with Laura Bentley, and accompanied by Mrs. Meade, had come down to Annapolis for this dance.

"I'll tell you two things, if I know how," Darrin responded promptly.

"Dan has danced a little with Laura, to be sure, but he introduced Mr. Farley to her, and has written down Farley's name for a lot of dances on Laura's card."

"Farley is a nice fellow," Dave replied. "But why didn't Dan want more of the dances with Laura, instead of turning them over to Mr. Farley?" followed up Belle. "And—there he goes now."

"Farley?"

"No, stupid! Dan."

"Well, why shouldn't he move about?" Midshipman Darrin inquired.

"But with—By the way, who is that girl, anyway?"

The girl was tall, rather stately and of a pronounced blonde type. She was a girl who would have been called more than merely pretty by any one who had seen her going by on Midshipman Dalzell's arm.

"I don't really know who she is," Dave admitted.

"Have you seen her here before?"

"Yes; I think I have seen the young lady half a dozen times before to-night."

"Then it's odd that you don't know who she is," pursued Miss Meade.

"I've never been introduced to her, you see."

"Oh! I imagined that you midshipmen were always being presented to girls."

"That's a fairy tale," said Dave promptly. "The average midshipman has about all he can do to hold his place here, without losing any time in running around making the acquaintances of young women who probably don't care at all about knowing him."

"What I'm wondering about," Belle went on, "is whether the young woman we have been discussing is any one in whom Dan Dalzell is seriously interested."

"I'll ask Dan."

"Oh! And I suppose you'll tell him that it's I who really want to know."

"I'll tell him that, too, if you wish it."

"Dave, you won't even mention my name to Dan in connection with any topic so silly."

"All right, Belle. All I want is my sailing orders. I know how to follow them."

"You're teasing me," Miss Meade went on, pouting. "I don't mean to be curious, but I noticed that Dan appears to be quite attentive to the young lady, and I was wondering whether Dan had met his fate—that's all."

"I don't know," smiled Midshipman Darrin, "and I doubt if Dan does, either. He's just the kind of fellow who might ignore girls for three years, then be ardently attentive to one for three days—and forget all about her in a week."

"Is Dan such a flirt as that?" Belle demanded, looking horrified.

"Dan—a flirt!" chuckled Dave. "I shall have to tell that to some of the fellows; it will amuse them. No; I wouldn't call Dan a flirt. He's anything but that. Dan will either remain a bachelor until he's past forty, or else some day he'll marry suddenly after having known the girl at least twenty-four hours. Dan hasn't much judgment where girls are concerned."

"He appears to be able to tell a pretty girl when he sees one," argued Belle Meade, turning again to survey Dan's companion.

Belle, with the sharp eyes and keen intuition of her sex, was quite justified in believing that Midshipman Dalzell realized fully the charms of the girl with whom he was talking.

Miss Catharine Atterly was the only daughter of wealthy parents, though her father had started life as a poor boy. Daniel Atterly, however, had been shrewd enough to know the advantages of a better education than he had been able to absorb in his boyhood. Miss Catharine, therefore, had been trained in some of the most expensive, if not the best, schools in the country. She was a buxom, healthy girl, full of the joy of living, yet able to conceal her enthusiasm under the polish that she had acquired in the schools she had attended. Miss Atterly, on coming to Annapolis, had conceived a considerable liking for the Naval uniform, and had attracted Dan to her side within the last three days. And Dan had felt his heart beating faster when nearing this pretty young creature.

Now, he was endeavoring to display himself to the best advantage before her eyes.

"You midshipmen have a very graceful knack of being charmingly attentive to the ladies," Miss Atterly suggested coyly.

"We receive a little bit of training in social performance, if that is what you mean, Miss Atterly," Dan replied.

"And that enables you to be most delightfully attentive to every girl that comes along?"

"I don't know," Midshipman Dalzell replied slowly. "I haven't had much experience."

Miss Atterly laughed as though she felt certain that she knew better.

"Do you say that to every girl?" she asked.

"I don't get many chances," Dan insisted. "Miss Atterly, all the hops that I've attended could be counted on your fingers, without using the thumbs?"

"Oh, really?"

"It is the truth, I assure you. Some of the midshipmen attend many hops. Most of us are too busy over our studies as a rule."

"Then you prefer books to the society of girls?"

"It isn't that," replied Dan, growing somewhat red under Miss Atterly's amused scrutiny. "The fact is that a fellow comes here to the Naval Academy for the purpose of becoming an officer in the Navy."

"To be sure."

"And, unless the average fellow hugs his books tightly he doesn't have any show to get through and become an officer. There are some fellows, of course, to whom the studies come easily. With most of us it's a terrible grind. Even with the grind about forty per cent. of the fellows who enter the Naval Academy are found deficient and are dropped. If you are interested in knowing, I had a fearful time in keeping up with the requirements."

"Oh, you poor boy!" cried Miss Atterly half tenderly.

"I never felt that I wanted any sympathy," Dan declared stoutly. "If I couldn't keep up, then the only thing to do was to go back to civil life and find my own level among my own kind."

"Now, that was truly brave in you!" declared Miss Atterly, admiration shining in her eyes.

"There's the music starting," Dan hastily reminded her. "Our dance."

"Would it seem disagreeable in me if I asked you to sit out this number with me?" inquired the girl. "The truth is, I can dance any evening, but you and your brave fight here, Mr. Dalzell, interest me—oh, more than I can tell you!"

Under this line of conversation Midshipman Dalzell soon began to feel highly uncomfortable. Miss Atterly, however, in getting Dan to talk of the midshipman and the Naval life, soon had him feeling at his ease. Nor could Dalzell escape noticing the fact that Miss Atterly appeared to enjoy his company hugely.

Then Dan was led on into talking of the life of the Naval officer at sea, and he spoke eloquently.

"A life of bravery and daring," commented Miss Atterly thoughtfully. "Yet, after all, I would call it rather a lonely life."

"Perhaps it will prove so," Dalzell assented. "Yet it is all the life that I look forward to. It's all the life that I care about."

"Despite the loneliness—or rather, because of it—it will seem all the finer and more beautiful to come home to wife and children," said Miss Atterly after a pause. "Nearly all Naval officers marry, don't they?"

"I—I believe they do," Dalzell stammered. "I—I never asked any Naval officers for statistics."

"Now, you are becoming droll," cried Miss Atterly, her laughter ringing out.

"I didn't mean to be," Dan protested. "I beg your pardon."

Whereat Miss Atterly laughed more than ever.

"I like you even better when you're droll," Miss Atterly informed him.

Something in the way that she said it pleased Midshipman Dalzell so immensely that he began to notice, more than before, what a very fine girl Miss Atterly was. Then, to win her applause, Dan made the mistake of trying to be funny, whereat the girl was extremely kind.

"Dave," whispered Belle soon after the music had stopped, "I can't get away from the belief that Dan's companion is leading him on. See! Dan now looks at her almost adoringly."

Laura Bentley, too, had noticed Dan's preoccupation, but she merely smiled within herself. She did not believe that Dan could really be serious where girls were concerned. Now, as Laura's midshipman partner led her to a seat, and soon left her, Dan, tearing himself away from Miss Atterly, came to remind Laura that his name was written on her card for the next dance.

"Very fine girl I've been talking with, Laura," Dan confided in the straightforward way that he had always used with Miss Bentley, who was such a very old school friend.

"She certainly is very pretty," Laura nodded.

"And—er—distinguished looking, don't you think?" Dan ventured.

"Yes, indeed."

"But I was speaking more of her character—at least, her disposition. Miss Atterly is highly sympathetic. I wish you'd meet her, Laura."

"I shall be delighted to do so, Dan."

"After this dance, then? And I want Belle to meet her, too. Miss Atterly has noticed you both, and was much interested when she learned that you were old school-day friends of mine."

So, after the music had ceased, Dan escorted Laura over to where Dave and Belle were chatting.

"Belle," asked Dan in his most direct way, "will you come and be introduced to Miss Atterly?"

"The young lady you've been dancing with so much?" Miss Meade inquired. "The tall, stately blonde?"

"Yes," Dan nodded.

"I shall be glad to meet Miss Atterly. But how about her? Do you think she could stand the shock?"

"Miss Atterly is very anxious to meet you both," Dalzell assured Belle.

"Take me over and shock her, then," laughed Belle.

Dan stood gazing about the scene. "I—I wonder where Miss Atterly is?" Dan mused aloud.

"Oh, I can tell you," Belle answered. "A moment ago she went through the entrance over yonder."

"Alone?"

"No; an older woman, probably Miss Atterly's mother, was with her."

"Oh! Let's look them up, then, if you don't mind."

As Belle rose, taking Dave's arm, Dan and Laura took the lead.

Just beyond the entrance that Belle had indicated no one else was in sight when the four young friends reached the spot. There was a clump of potted tropical shrubbery at one side.

On the other side of this shrubbery sat Mrs. and Miss Atterly, engaged in conversation.

"Why do you prefer to sit in this out-of-the-way place, Catharine?" her mother inquired, just as the young people came up.

"I want to get away from two rather goodlooking but very ordinary girls that Mr. Dalzell wants to present to me, mamma," she replied.

"If they are midshipmen's friends are they too ordinary to know?" inquired Mrs. Atterly.

"Mamma, if I am going to interest Mr. Dalzell, I don't want other girls stepping in at every other moment. I don't want to know his girl friends."

"Are you attracted to Mr. Dalzell, Cathy?" asked her mother.

"Not especially, I assure you, mamma."

"Oh, then it is not a serious affair."

"It may be," laughed the girl lightly. "If I can learn to endure Mr. Dalzell, then I may permit him to marry me when he is two years older and has his commission."

"Even if you don't care much for him?" asked Mrs. Atterly, almost shocked.

"If I marry," pouted Miss Atterly, "I don't want a husband that leaves the house every morning, and returns every evening."

"Cathy!"

"Well, I don't! In some ways I suppose it's nice to be a married woman. One has more freedom in going about alone. Now, a Naval officer, mamma, would make the right sort of husband for me. He'd be away, much of the time, on long cruises."

"But I understand, Cathy, that sometimes a Naval officer has a year or two of shore duty."

"If that happened," laughed the girl, "I could take a trip to Europe couldn't I? And the social position of a Naval officer isn't a bad one. His wife enjoys the same social position, you know, mamma."

"Yet why Mr. Dalzell, if you really don't care anything about him?"

"Because he's so simple, mamma. He would be dreadfully easy to manage!"

The four young people looking for the Atterlys had unavoidably heard every word. They halted, Dan violently red in the face. Then Laura, with quick tact, wheeled about and led the way back to the ball room floor.

"Better luck next time, Dan," whispered Belle, gripping Dalzell's arm.

"Don't you think twice is enough for a simpleton like me?" blurted Midshipman Dan.

XVI. THE DAY OF MANY DOUBTS

Busy days followed, days which, for some of the first classmen, were filled with a curious discontent.

Some, to be sure, among these midshipmen soon to graduate, took each day as it came, with little or no emotion. To them the Naval life ahead was coming only as a matter of course. There were others, however—and Dave Darrin was among them—who looked upon a commission as an officer of the Navy as a sacred trust given them by the nation.

Dave Darrin was one of those who, while standing above the middle of his class, yet felt that he had not made sufficiently good use of his time. To his way of thinking there was an appalling lot in the way of Naval duties that he did not understand.

"I may get through here, and out of here, and in another couple of years be a line or engineer officer," Midshipman Darrin confided to his chum and roommate one day. "But I shall be only a half-baked sort of officer."

"Well, are cubs ever anything more?" demanded Dan.

"Yes; Wolgast, for instance, is going to be something more. So will Fenton and Day, and several others whom I could name."

"And so is Darrin," confidently predicted Midshipman Dalzell.

But Dave shook his head.

"No, no, Danny boy. The time was when I might have believed extremely well of myself, but that day has gone by. When I entered the Naval Academy I probably thought pretty well of myself. I've tried to keep up with the pace here——"

"And you've done it, and are going to do it right along," interjected Midshipman Dalzell.

"No; it almost scares me when I look over the subjects that I'm not really fit in. It's spring, now, and I'm only a few weeks away from graduation, only something like two years this side of a commission as ensign, and—and—Dan, I wonder if I'm honestly fit to command a rowboat."

"You've got a brief grouch against yourself, Davy," muttered Dan.

"No; but I think I know what a Naval officer should be, and I also know how far short I fall of what I should be."

"If you get your diploma," argued Midshipman Dalzell, "the faculty of the Naval Academy will testify on the face of it that you're a competent midshipman and on your way to being fit to hold an ensign's commission presently."

"But that's just the point, Danny. I shall know, myself, that I'm only a poor, dub sort of Naval officer. I tell you, Danny, I don't know enough to be a good Naval officer."

"Then that's a reflection on your senior officers who have had your training on hand," grinned Dalzell. "If you talk in the same vein after you've gotten your diploma, it will amount to a criticism of the intelligence of your superior officers. And that's something that's wisely forbidden by the regulations."

Dan picked up a text-book and opened it, as though he believed that he had triumphantly closed the discussion. Midshipman Darrin, however, was not to be so easily silenced.

"Then, if you're not fitted to be a Naval officer," blurted Dalzell, "what on earth can be said of me?"

"You may not stand quite as high as I do, on mere markings," Dave assented. "But there are a lot of things, Danny, that you know much better than I do."

"Name one of them," challenged Dalzell.

"Well, steam engineering, for instance. Now, I'm marked higher in that than you are, Danny. Yet, when the engine on one of the steamers goes wrong you can hunt around until you get the engine to running smoothly. You're twice as clever at that as I am."

"Not all Naval officers are intended to be engineer officers," grunted Midshipman Dalzell. "If you don't feel clever enough in that line, just put in your application for watch officer's work."

"Take navigation," Dave continued. "I stand just fairly well in the theory of the thing. But I've no real knack with a sextant."

"Well, the sextant is only a hog-yoke," growled Dalzell.

"Yes; but I shiver every time I pick up the hog-yoke under the watchful gaze of an instructor."

"Humph! Only yesterday I heard Lieutenant-Commander Richards compliment you for your work in nav."

"Yes; but that was the mathematical end. I'm all right on the paper end and the theoretical work, but it's the practical end that I'm afraid of."

"You'll get plenty of the practical work as soon as you graduate and get to sea," Dan urged.

"Yes; and very likely make a chump of myself, like Digby, of last year's class. Did you hear what he did in nav.?"

"No," replied Dalzell, looking up with real interest this times "If Digby made a fool of himself I'll be glad to hear about it, for Dig was always just a little bit too chesty to suit me."

"Well, Dig wasn't a bit chesty the first day that he was ordered to shoot the sun," Dave laughed. "Dig took the sextant, and made a prize shot, or thought he did. After he had got the sun, plumb at noon, he lowered the instrument and made his reading most carefully. Then he went into the chart room, and got busy with his calculations. The longer Dig worked the worse his head ached. He stared at his figures, tore them up and tried again. Six or eight times he worked the problem over, but always with the same result. The navigating officer, who had worked the thing out in two minutes, sat back in his chair and looked bored. You see, Dig's own eyes had told him that the ship was working north, and about five miles off the coast of New Jersey. But his figures told him that the ship was anchored in the old fourth ward of the city of Newark. Try as he would, Dig couldn't get the battleship away from that ward."

Dan Dalzell leaned back, laughing uproariously at the mental picture that this story of Midshipman Digby brought up in his mind.

"It sounds funny, when you hear it," Dave went on. "But I sometimes shiver over the almost certainty that I'm going to do something just as bad when I get to sea. If I get sent to the engine room I'll be likely to fill the furnaces with water and the boilers with coal."

"Rot!" objected Dan. "You're not crazy—not even weak-minded."

"Or else, if I'm put to navigating, I'm fairly likely to bring the battleship into violent collision with the Chicago Limited, over in Ohio."

"Come out of that funk, Davy!" ordered his chum.

"I'm trying to, Danny boy; but there's many an hour when I feel that I haven't learned here all that I should have learned, and that I'll be miles behind the newest ensigns and lieutenants."

"There's just about one thing for you to do, then," proposed Dan.

"Resign?" queried Darrin, looking quizzically at his chum.

"Not by a long sight. Just go in for a commission as second lieutenant of marines. You can get that and hold it. A marine officer doesn't have to know anything but the manual of arms and a few other little simple things."

"But a marine officer isn't a real sailor, Danny. He lives and works on a warship, to be sure, but he's more of a soldier. Now, as it happens, my whole heart and soul are wrapped up in being a Naval officer—a real Naval officer."

"With that longing, and an Annapolis diploma," teased Dalzell, "there is just one thing to do."

"What?"

"Beat your way to the realization of your dream. You've got a thundering good start."

Midshipman Dave Darrin was not the kind to communicate his occasional doubts to anyone except his roommate. Had Darrin talked on the subject with other members of his class he would have found that many of his classmates were tortured by the same doubts that assailed him. With midshipmen who were destined to get their diplomas such doubts were to be charged only to modesty, and were therefore to their credit. Yet, every spring dozens of Annapolis first classmen are miserable, instead of feeling the joyous appeal of the budding season. They are assailed by just such fears as had reached Dave Darrin.

Dalzell, on the other hand, was tortured by no such dreads. He went hammering away with marvelous industry, and felt sure, in his own mind, that he would be retired, in his sixties, an honored rear admiral.

Had there been only book studies some of the first classmen would have broken down under the nervous strain. However, there was much to be done in the shops—hard, physical labor, that had to be performed in dungaree clothing; toil of the kind that plastered the hard-worked midshipmen with grime and soot. There were drills, parades, cross-country marches. The day's work at the Naval Academy, at any season of the year, is arranged so that hard mental work is always followed by lively physical exertion, much of it in the open air.

Dalzell, returning one afternoon from the library encountered Midshipman Farley, who was looking unaccountably gloomy.

"What's the trouble, Farl—dyspepsia?" grinned Dan, linking one arm through his friend's. "Own up!"

"Danny, I'm in the dumps," confessed Farley. "I hate to acknowledge it, but I've been fearfully tempted, for the last three days, to send in my resignation."

"What's her name?" grinningly demanded Dalzell, who had bravely recovered from his own two meetings with Venus.

"It isn't a girl—bosh!" jeered Farley. "There's only one girl in the world I'm interested in—and she's my kid sister."

"Then why this talk of resigning."

"Danny, I'm simply afraid that I'm not made of the stuff to make a competent Naval officer. My markings are all right, but I know that I don't know enough to take a sailboat out and bring it back."

"Oh, is that all?" cried Dalzell laughingly. "Then I know just what you want."

"What?"

"Drop into our room and have a talk with Darry. Dave knows just how to comfort and cheer a fellow who has that glum bug in his head of cabbage. Come right along!"

Dan almost forced Farley to the door of the room, opened it and shoved the modest midshipman inside.

"Darry," Dan called joyously, "here's a case for your best talents. Farley has a pet bee in his bonnet that he isn't fit to be a Naval officer. He doesn't know enough. So he's going to resign. I've told him you'll know just how to handle his case. Go after him, now!"

Midshipman Dalzell pulled the door shut, chuckling softly to himself, and marched back to the library. It was just before the call for supper formation when Dan returned from "boning" in the library.

"Did you brace Farl up, Davy?" demanded Dan.

"You grinning idiot!" laughed Darrin. "What on earth made you bring him to me?"

"Because I thought you needed each other."

"Well, perhaps we did," laughed Midshipman Darrin. "At any rate I've been hammering at Farl all the time that he wasn't hammering at me. I certainly feel better, and I hope that he does."

"You both needed the same thing," declared Dan, grinning even more broadly as he picked up his hair brushes.

"What did we need?"

"You've both been studying so hard that your brain cells are clogged."

"But what did Farley and I both need?" insisted Midshipman Darrin.

"Mental exercise—brain-sparring," rejoined Dalzell. "You both needed something that could take you out of the horrible daily grooves that you've been sailing in lately. You both needed something to stir you up—and I hope you gave each other all the excitement you could."

In the way of a stirring-up something was about to happen that was going to stir up the whole first class—if not the entire brigade.

Nor was Dave Darrin to escape being one of the central figures in the excitement.

Here is the way in which the whole big buzzing-match got its start and went on to a lively finish.

XVII. MR. CLAIRY DEALS IN OUTRAGES

"Mr. Darrin!"

With that hail proceeded sharply from the lips of a first classman, who on this evening happened to be the midshipman in charge of the floor.

Clairy sat at his desk in the corridor, his eyes on a novel until Dave happened along. As he gave the sharp hail Mr. Clairy thrust his novel under a little pile of text-books.

"Well, sir?" inquired Dave, halting. "Mr. Darrin, what do you mean by coming down the corridor with both shoes unlaced."

"They are not unlaced," retorted Dave, staring in amazement at Midshipman Clairy.

"They are not now—true."

"And they haven't been unlaced, sir, since I first laced them on rising this morning."

"Don't toy with the truth, Mr. Darrin!" rang Clairy's voice sternly.

"If my shoes had been unlaced, they would still be unlaced, wouldn't they, sir?" demanded Dave.

"No; for you have laced them since I spoke to you about it!"

This was entirely too much for Darrin, who gulped, gasped, and then stared again at the midshipman in charge of the floor.

Then, suddenly, a light dawned on Dave. He grinned almost as broadly as Dan Dalzell could have done.

"Come, come, now, Clairy!" chided Dave. "What on earth is the joke—and why?"

Midshipman Clairy straightened himself, his eyes flashing and his whole appearance one of intense dignity.

"Mr. Darrin, there is no joke about it, as you are certainly aware, sir. And I must call your attention to the fact that it is bad taste to address a midshipman familiarly when he is on official duty."

"Why, hang you—" Dave broke forth utterly aghast.

"Stop, sir!" commanded Mr. Clairy, rising. "Mr. Darrin, you will place yourself on report for strolling along the corridor with both shoes unlaced. You will also place yourself on report for impertinence in answering the midshipman in charge of the floor."

"But——"

"Go at once, sir, and place yourself on report"

Dave meditated, for two or three seconds, over the advisability of knocking Mr. Clairy down. But familiarity with the military discipline of the Naval Academy immediately showed Darrin that his only present course was to obey.

"I wonder who's loony now?" hummed Dave to himself, as he marched briskly along on his way to the office of the officer in charge. There be picked up two of the report slips, dipping a pen in ink.

First, in writing, he reported himself on the charge of having his shoes unlaced. In the space for remarks Darrin wrote tersely:

"Untrue."

Against the charge of unwarranted impertinence to the midshipman in charge of the floor Dave wrote the words:

"Impertinence admitted, but in my opinion entirely warranted."

So utterly astounded was Darrin by this queer turn of affairs, that he forgot the matter that had taken him from his room. On his way back he met Midshipman Page. On the latter's face was a look as black as a thundercloud.

"What on earth is wrong, Page?" Darrin asked.

"I've got the material for a first-class fight on my hands," Page answered, his eyes flashing.

"What—"

"Clairy has ordered me to report myself."

"What does he say you were doing that you weren't doing?" inquired Midshipman Darrin, a curious look in his eyes.

"Clairy has the nerve to state that I was coming along the corridor with my blouse unbuttoned. He ordered me to button it up, which I couldn't do since it was already buttoned. But he declared that I buttoned it up while facing him, and so I'm on my way to place myself on report for an offense that I didn't commit."

"Clairy just sent me to the O.C. to frap the pap for having my shoes unlaced," remarked Dave, his face flushing darkly.

"What on earth is Clairy up to?" cried Page.

"I don't know. I can't see his game clearly. But he's certainly hunting trouble."

"Then——"

"See here, Page, we've no business holding indignation meetings in study hours. But come to my room just as soon as release sounds—will you?"

"You can wager that I will," shot back Midshipman Page as he started along the corridor.

"Hello," hailed Midshipman Dalzell, looking up as his chum entered. "Why, Darry, you're angry—really angry. Who has dared throw spitballs at you?"

"Quit your joking, Dan!" returned Dave Darrin, his voice quivering. "Clairy is hunting real trouble, I imagine, and I fancy he'll have to be obliged."

Dave thereupon related swiftly what had happened, Dan staring in sheer amazement. Then Dalzell jumped up.

"Where are you going?" Darrin answered.

"To interview Clairy."

"You'd better not, Dan. The trouble is thick enough already."

"I'm going to interview Clairy—perhaps," retorted Midshipman Dalzell. "I've just thought of a perfectly good excuse for being briefly out of quarters during study hours. I'll be back soon—perhaps with some news."

Off Dan posted. In less than ten minutes he returned, looking even more indignant than had his chum.

"Davy," broke forth Dalzell hotly, "that idiot is surely hunting all the trouble there is in Annapolis."

"He went after you, then?"

"I was making believe to march straight by the fellow's desk," resumed Dan, "when Clairy brought me up sharply. Told me to frap the pap for strolling with my hands in my pockets. I didn't do anything like that."

In another hour indignation was running riot in that division. Midshipman Clairy had ordered no less than eight first classmen to put themselves on report for offenses that none of them would admit having committed.

Oh, but there was wrath boiling in the quarters occupied by those eight first classmen.

Immediately after release had sounded, Page and Farley made a bee-line for Dave's room.

"Did Clairy wet you, Farley?" demanded Darrin.

"No; I haven't been out of my room until just now."

"Page," continued Darrin, "circulate rapidly in first class rooms on this deck and find out whether Clairy improperly held up any more of the fellows. Dan was a victim, too."

Page had five first classmen on the scene in a few minutes. The meeting seemed doomed to resolve itself into a turmoil of angry language.

"Clairy is a hound!"

"A liar in my case!"

"He's hunting a fight!"

"Coventry would do him more good."

"Yes; we'll have to call the class to deal with this."

"The scoundrel!"

"The pup!"

"He's trying to pile some of us up with so many demerits that we won't be able to graduate."

"Oh, well," argued Page, "Fenwick has hit it. We can't fight such a lying hound. All we can do is to get the class out and send the fellow to Coventry."

"What do you imagine it all means, Darry?" questioned Fenwick.

Dave's wrath had had time to simmer down, and he was cooler now.

"I wish I knew what to think, fellows," Dave answered slowly. "Clairy has never shown signs of doing such things before."

"He has always been a sulk, and never had a real friend in the class," broke in Farley.

"He has always been quiet and reticent," Dave admitted. "But we never before had any real grievance against Mr. Clairy."

"We have a grievance now, all right!" glowered Page. "Coventry, swift and tight, is the only answer to the situation."

"Let's not be in too much haste, fellows," Darrin urged.

"You—you give such advice as that?" gasped Midshipman Dalzell. "Why, Davy, the fellow went for you in fearful shape. He insulted you outrageously."

"I know he did," Darrin responded. "That's why I believe in going slowly in the matter."

"Now, why?" hissed Page. "Why on earth—why?"

"Clairy must have had some motive behind his attack," Dave urged.

"It couldn't have been a good motive, anyway," broke in another midshipman hotly.

"Never mind that part of it, just now," Dave Darrin retorted. "Fellows, I, for one, don't like to go after Mr. Clairy too hastily while we're all in doubt about the cause of it."

"We don't need to know the cause," stormed indignant Farley. "We know the results, and that's enough for us. I favor calling a class meeting to-morrow night."

"We can do just as much, and act just as intelligently, if we hold the class-meeting off for two or three nights," Midshipman Darrin maintained.

"Now, why on earth should we bold off that long?" insisted Fenwick. "We know, now, that Mr. Clairy has insulted eight members of our class. We know that he has lied about them, and that the case is so bad as to require instant attention. All I'm sorry for is that it's too late to hold the class meeting within the next five minutes."

Dave found even his own roommate opposed to delay in dealing with the preposterous case of the outrageous Mr. Clairy.

Yet such was Darrin's ascendency over his classmates in matters of ethics and policy, that he was able, before taps, to bring the rest around to his wish for a waiting programme for two or three days.

"There'll be some explanation of this," Dave urged, when he had gotten his comrades into a somewhat more reasonable frame of mind.

"The explanation will have to be sought with fists," grumbled Fenwick. "And there are eight of us, while Clairy has only two eyes that can be blackened."

The news had spread, of course, and the first class was in a fury of resentment against one of its own members.

Meanwhile Midshipman Clairy sat at his desk out in the corridor, clearly calm and indifferent to all the turmoil that his acts had stirred up in the brigade.

XVIII. THE WHOLE CLASS TAKES A HAND

"Then, Mr. Darrin, you admit the use of impertinent language to Mr. Clairy, when the midshipman was in charge of the floor?"

This question was put to Dave, the following morning, by the commandant of midshipmen.

"It would have been an impertinence, sir, under ordinary conditions," Darrin answered. "Under the circumstances I believed, sir, that I had been provoked into righteous anger."

"You still assert that Mr. Clairy's charge that your shoes were unlaced when you approached him was false?"

"Absolutely false, sir."

"Do you wish any time to reflect over that answer, Mr. Darrin?"

"No, sir."

"You are willing your answer should go on record, then?"

"My denial of the charge of having my shoes unlaced is the only answer that I can possibly make, sir."

The commandant reflected. Then he directed that Midshipman Clairy be ordered to report to him. Clairy came, almost immediately. The commandant questioned him closely. Clairy still stuck resolutely to his story that Dave Darrin had been passing through the corridor with his shoes unlaced; and, furthermore, that Darrin, when rebuked and ordered to place himself on report, had used impertinent language.

During this examination the midshipmen did not glance toward each other. Both stood at attention, their glances on the commandant's face.

"I do not know what to say," the officer admitted at last. "I will take the matter under advisement. You may both go."

Outside, well away from the office, Dave Darrin halted, swinging and confronting Clairy sternly.

"You lying scoundrel!" vibrated Darrin, his voice shaking with anger.

"It constitutes another offense, Mr. Darrin, to use such language for the purpose of intimidating a midshipman in the performance of his duty," returned Midshipman Clairy, looking back steadily into Dave's eyes.

"An offense? Fighting is another, under a strict interpretation of the rules," Dave replied coldly.

"And I do not intend to fight you," replied Clairy, still speaking smoothly.

"Perhaps I should know better than to challenge you," replied Midshipman Darrin. "The spirit of the brigade prohibits my fighting any one who is not a gentleman."

"If that is all you have to say, Mr. Darrin, I will leave you. You cannot provoke me into any breach of the regulations."

Clairy walked away calmly, leaving Dave Darrin fuming with anger.

Page was sent for next, then Dalzell. Both denied utterly the charges on which Clairy had ordered them to report themselves. Again Mr. Clairy was sent for, and once more he asserted the complete truthfulness of his charges.

It was so in the cases of the five remaining midshipmen under charges, though still Mr. Clairy stuck to the correctness of the report.

Action in all of the eight cases was suspended by the commandant, who went post-haste to the superintendent. That latter official, experienced as he was in the ways of midshipmen, could offer no solution of the mystery.

"You see, my dear Graves," explained the superintendent, "it is the rule of custom here, and a safe rule at that, to accept the word of a midshipman as being his best recollection or knowledge of the truth of any statement that he makes. In that case, we would seem to be bound to accept the statements of Mr. Clairy."

On the other hand, we are faced with the fact that we must accept the statements made by Mr. Darrin, Mr. Page, Mr. Dalzell, Mr. Fenwick and others. We are on the horns of a dilemma, though I doubt not that we shall find a way out of it."

"There appears, sir, to be only the statement of one midshipman against the word of eight midshipmen," suggested the commandant.

"Not exactly that," replied the superintendent. "The fact is that Mr. Clairy's charges do not concern the eight midshipmen collectively, but individually. Had Mr. Clairy charged all eight of the midshipmen of an offense committed at the same time and together, and had the eight midshipmen all denied it, then we should be reluctantly compelled to admit the probability that Mr. Clairy had been lying. But his charges relate to eight different delinquencies, and not one of the eight accused midshipmen is in a position to act as witness for any of the other accused men."

"Then what are we going to do, sir?"

"I will admit that I do not yet know," replied the superintendent. "Some method of getting at the truth in the matter is likely to occur to us later on. In the meantime, Graves, you will not publish any punishments for the reported delinquencies."

"Very good, sir," nodded the commandant.

"Keep your wits at work for a solution of the mystery, Graves."

"I will, sir."

"And I will give the matter all the attention that I can," was the superintendent's last word.

If anger had been at the boiling point before, the situation was even worse now.

Page and Fenwick openly challenged Clairy to fight. He replied, in each case, with a cool, smiling refusal.

"We've got to hold that class meeting!" growled Farley.

"Why?" inquired Dave. "The class can't do anything more to Clairy than has already been done. His refusals to fight will send him to Coventry as securely as could action by all four of the classes. No fellow here can refuse to fight, unless he couples with his refusal an offer to submit the case to his own class for action. No one, henceforth, will have a word to say to Clairy."

"Perhaps not; but I still insist that the class meeting ought to be called."

This was the general sentiment among the first classmen. Darrin was the only real dissenter to the plan.

"Oh, well, go ahead and call the class together, if you like," agreed Dave. "My main contention is that such a meeting will be superfluous. The action of the class has really been taken already."

"Will you come to the meeting, Darry?" asked Fenwick.

"Really, I don't know," Dave answered thoughtfully. "My presence would do neither good nor harm. The action of the class has already been decided. In fact, it has been put into effect."

"Then you won't be there?" spoke up Farley.

"I don't know. I'll come, however, if it will please any of you especially."

"Oh, bother you, Darry! We're not going to beg your presence as a favor."

At formation for dinner, when the brigade adjutant published the orders, every midshipman in the long ranks of the twelve companies waited eagerly to learn what had been done in the cases of the eight midshipmen. They were doomed to disappointment, however.

At brigade formation for supper notice of a meeting of the first class in Recreation Hall was duly published. There was rather an unwonted hush over the tables that night.

Immediately afterwards groups of midshipmen were seen strolling through the broad foyer of Bancroft Hall, and up the low steps into Recreation Hall. Yet it was some ten minutes before there was anything like a full gathering of the first class.

"Order!" rapped the class president Then, after glancing around:

"Is Mr. Clairy present?"

He was not.

"Where's Darry?" buzzed several voices.

But Dave Darrin was not present either.

"Where is he?" several demanded of Dan.

"Blessed if I know," Dan answered. "I wish I did, fellows."

"Isn't Darry going to attend?"

"I don't know that, either."

Midshipman Gosman now claimed the floor. He spoke a good deal as though he had been retained as advocate for the eight accused midshipmen. In a fiery speech Mr. Gosman recited that eight different members of the class had been falsely accused by Mr. Clairy.

"There are not eight liars in our class," declared Midshipman Gosman, with very telling effect.

Then, after more fiery words aimed at Clairy, Mr. Gosman demanded:

"Why is not Mr. Clairy here to speak for himself? Let him who can answer this! Further, Mr. Clairy has been challenged to fight by some of those whom be accused. Now, sir and classmates, a midshipman may refuse to fight, but if he does he must submit his case to his class, and then be guided by the class decision as to whether he must fight or not. Mr. Clairy has not done this."

"He's a cur!" shouted a voice.

"I accept the remark," bowed Mr. Gosman, "if I am permitted to express the class's apology to all dogs for the comparison."

"Good!" yelled several.

"Mr. President and classmates," continued the angry orator, "I believe we are all of one mind, and I believe that I can express the unanimous sentiment of the first class."

"You can!"

"You bet you can!"

"Go ahead!"

"Mr. President, I take it upon myself to move that the first class should, and hereby does, send Mr. Clairy to Coventry for all time to come!"

"Second the motion!" cried several voices.

Then a diversion was created.

One of the big doors opened and a midshipman stepped into the room, closing the door.

That midshipman was Dave Darrin. Every first classman in the room felt certain that Darrin had entered for the express purpose of saying something of consequence.

XIX. MIDSHIPMAN DARRIN HAS THE FLOOR

But Dave did not speak at first. Advancing only a short distance into the hall he stood with arms folded, his face well-nigh expressionless.

For a moment the class president glanced at Darrin, then at the assemblage.

"Gentlemen," announced the class president, "you have heard the motion, that Mr. Clairy be sent to Coventry for all time to come. The motion has been duly seconded. Remarks are in order."

"Mr. President!"

It was Dave who had spoken. All eyes were turned in his direction at once.

"Mr. Darrin," announced the chair. "Mr. President, and classmates, I, for one, shall vote against the motion."

An angry clamor rose, followed by calls of, "Question! Put the motion!"

"Do any of you know," Darrin continued, "why Mr. Clairy is not here this evening?"

"He's afraid to come!"

"Did any of you note that Mr. Clairy was not at supper?"

"The hound hadn't any appetite," jeered Fenwick angrily.

"You have observed, of course, that Mr. Clairy was not here at the meeting?"

"He didn't dare come!" cried several voices.

"If you have any explanation to make, Mr. Darrin, let us have it," urged the chair.

"Mr. President and classmates," Midshipman Darrin continued, "all along I have felt that there must be some explanation to match Mr. Clairy's most extraordinary conduct. I now offer you the explanation. The officer in charge sent for me, to impart some information that I am requested to repeat before this meeting."

"Go on!" cried several curious voices when Dave paused for a moment.

"Fellows, I hate to tell you the news, and you will all be extremely sorry to hear it. You will be glad, however, that you did not pass the motion now before the class. Mr. President, I have to report, at the request of the officer in charge, the facts in Mr. Clairy's case.

"From the peculiar nature of the case both the superintendent and the commandant of midshipmen were convinced that there was something radically wrong with Mr. Clairy."

"Humph! I should say so!" uttered Penwick, with emphasis.

"Mr. Clairy was not at our mess at supper," resumed Dave Darrin, "for the very simple reason that he had been taken to hospital. There he was examined by three surgeons, assisted by an outside specialist. Mr. President and classmates, I know you will all feel heartily sorry for Clairy when I inform you that he has been pronounced insane."

Dave ceased speaking, and an awed silence prevailed. It was the chair who first recovered his poise.

"Clairy insane!" cried the class president. "Gentlemen, now we comprehend what, before, it was impossible to understand."

In the face of this sudden blow to a classmate all the midshipmen sat for a few minutes more as if stunned. Then they began to glance about at each other.

"I think this event must convince us, sir," Darrin's voice broke in, "that we young men don't know everything, and that we should learn to wait for facts before we judge swiftly."

"Mr. President!"

It was Gosman, on his feet. In a husky voice that midshipman begged the consent of his seconders for his withdrawing the motion he had offered sending Midshipman Clairy to Coventry. In a twinkling that motion had been withdrawn.

"Will Mr. Darrin, state, if able, how serious Clairy's insanity is believed to be?" inquired the chair.

"It is serious enough to ruin all his chances in the Navy," Dave answered, "though the surgeons believe that, after Clairy has been taken by his friends to some asylum, his cure can eventually be brought about."

The feeling in the room was too heavy for more discussion. A motion to adjourn was offered and carried, after which the first classmen hurried from the room.

Of course no demerits were imposed as a result of the crazy reports ordered by Midshipman Clairy on that memorable night. Three days later the unfortunate young man's father arrived and had his son conveyed from Annapolis. It may interest the reader to know that, two years later, the ex-midshipman fully recovered his reason, and is now successfully engaged in business.

Spring now rapidly turned into early summer. The baseball squad had been at work for some time. Both Darrin and Dalzell had been urged to join.

"Let's go into the nine, if we can make it—and we ought to," urged Dan.

"You go ahead, Danny boy, if you're so inclined," replied Dave.

"Aren't you going in?"

"I have decided not to."

"You're a great patriot for the Naval Academy, Davy."

"I'm looking out for myself, I'll admit. I want to graduate as high in my class as I can, Danny. Yet I'd sacrifice my own desires if the Naval Academy needed me on the nine. However, I'm not needed. There are several men on the nine who play ball better than I but don't let me keep you off the nine, Dan."

"If you stay off I guess I will," replied Dalzell. "If the nine doesn't need you then it doesn't need me."

"But I thought you wanted to play."

"Not unless you and I could be the battery, David, little giant. I'd like to catch your pitching, but I don't want to stop any other fellow's pitching."

So far the nine had gone on without them. Realizing how much Dan wanted to play with the Navy team in this, their last year, Dave changed his mind, and both joined. A very creditable showing was made after their entrance into the nine. That year the Navy captured more than half the games played, though the Navy was fated to lose to the Army by a score of four to three. This game is described in detail in "Dick Prescott's Fourth Year At West Point."

With the approach of graduation time Dave's heart was gladdened by the arrival in Annapolis of Belle Meade and her mother, who stopped at the Maryland House. Dave saw them on the only days when it was possible—that is to say, on Saturdays and Sundays. He had many glimpses of his sweetheart, however, at other times, for Belle, filled with the fascination of Naval life, came often with her mother to watch the outdoor drills.

When Dave saw her at such times, however, he was obliged to act as though he did not. Not by look or sign could he convey any intimation that he was doing anything but pay the strictest heed to duty.

Then came the Saturday before examination. Dave Darrin, released after dinner, would gladly have hurried away from the Academy grounds to visit his sweetheart in town, but Belle willed it otherwise.

"These are your last days here, Dave," whispered Belle, as she and her handsome midshipman strolled about. "If I'm to share your life with you, I may as well begin by sharing the Naval Academy with you to-day."

"Shall we go over to the field and watch the ball game when it starts?" Darrin asked.

"Not unless you very especially wish to," Miss Meade replied. "I'd rather have you to myself than to share your attention with a ball game."

So, though Midshipman Dave was interested in the outcome of the game, he decided to wait for the score when it had been made.

"Where's Dan to-day?" Belle inquired.

"Over at the ball game."

"Alone?"

"No; the brigade is with him, or he's with the brigade," laughed Darrin.

"Then he's not there with a girl?"

"Oh, no; I think Danny's second experience has made him a bit skeptical about girls."

"And how are you, on that point, Mr. Darrin?" teased Belle, gazing up at him mirthfully.

"You know my sentiments, as to myself, Belle. As for Dan—well, I think it beyond doubt that he will do well to wait for several years before he allows himself to be interested in any girls."

"Why?"

"Well, because Danny's judgment is bad in that direction. And he's pretty sure to be beaten out by any determined rival. You see, when Danny gets interested in a girl, he doesn't really know whether he wants her. From a girl's point of view what do you think of that failing, Belle?"

"I am afraid the girl is not likely to feel complimented."

"So," pursued Dave, "while Danny is really interested in a girl, but is uneasily unable to make up his mind, the girl is pretty sure to grow tired of him and take up with the more positive rival."

"Poor Dan is not likely to have a bride early in life," sighed Belle.

"Oh, yes; one very excellent bride for a Naval officer to have."

"What is that?"

"His commission. Dan, if he keeps away from too interesting girls, will have some years in which to fit himself splendidly in his profession. By that time he'll be all the better equipped for taking care of a wife."

"I wonder," pondered Belle, "what kind of wife Dan will finally choose."

"He won't have anything to do with the choosing," laughed Darrin. "One of these days some woman will choose him, and then Dan will be anchored for life. It is even very likely that he'll imagine that he selected his wife from among womankind, but he won't have much to say about it."

"You seem to think Dan is only half witted," Belle remarked.

"Only where women are concerned, Belle. In everything else he's a most capable young American. He's going to be a fine Naval officer."

In another hour Belle had changed her mind. She had seen all of the Academy grounds that she cared about for a while, and now proposed that they slip out through the Maryland Avenue gate for a walk through the shaded, sweet scented streets of Annapolis. As Darrin had town liberty the plan pleased him.

Strolling slowly the young people at last neared State Circle.

"I thought midshipmen didn't tell fibs," suddenly remarked Belle.

"They're not supposed to," Dave replied.

"But you said Dan was at the ball game."

"Isn't he?"

"Look there!" Belle exclaimed dramatically.

XX. DAN STEERS ON THE ROCKS AGAIN

Just entering Wiegard's were Midshipman Dalzell and a very pretty young woman.

Dan had not caught sight of his approaching friends.

"Why, that fellow told me he was going to see if he couldn't be the mascot for a winning score to-day," Dave exclaimed.

"But he didn't say that the score was to be won in a ball game, did he?" Belle queried demurely.

"Now I think of it, he didn't mention ball," Darrin admitted. "But I thought it was the game down on the Academy athletic field."

"No; it was very different kind of game," Belle smiled. "Dave, you'll find that Dan is incurable. He's going to keep on trying with women until——"

"Until he lands one?" questioned Dave.

"No; until one lands him. Dave, I wonder if it would be too terribly prying if we were to turn into Wiegard's too?"

"I don't see any reason why it should be," Darrin answered. "Mr. Wiegard conducts a public confectioner's place. It's the approved place for any midshipman to take a young lady for ice cream. Do you feel that you'd like some ice cream?"

"No," Belle replied honestly. "But I'd like to get a closer look at Dan's latest."

So Dave led his sweetheart into Wiegard's. In order to get a seat at a table it was necessary to pass the table at which Dan and his handsome friend were seated. As Dalzell's back was toward the door he did not espy his friends until they were about to pass.

"Why, hello, Darry!" cried Dan, rising eagerly, though his cheeks flushed a bit. "How do you do, Miss Meade? Miss Henshaw, may I present my friends? Miss Meade and Mr. Darrin."

The introduction was pleasantly acknowledged all around. Miss Henshaw proved wholly well-bred and at ease.

"Won't you join us here?" asked Dalzell, trying hard to conceal the fact that he didn't want any third and fourth parties.

"I know you'll excuse us," answered Dave, bowing, "and I feel certain that I am running counter to Miss Meade's wishes. But I have so little opportunity to talk to her that I'm going to beg you to excuse us. I'm going to be selfish and entice Miss Meade away to the furthest corner."

That other table was so far away that Dave and Belle could converse in low tones without the least danger of being overheard. There were, at that time, no other patrons in the place.

"Well, Belle, what do you think of the lady, now that you've seen her?"

"You've named her," replied Belle quietly. "Dan's new friend is beyond any doubt a lady."

"Then Dan is safe, at last."

"I'm not so sure of that," Belle answered.

"But, if she's really a lady, she must be safe company for Dan."

Belle smiled queerly before she responded:

"I'm afraid Dan is in for a tremendous disappointment."

"In the lady's character?" pressed Darrin.

"Oh, indeed, no."

"Wait and see."

"But I'd rather know now."

"I'll tell you what I mean before you say good-bye this afternoon," Belle promised.

"By Jove, but I am afraid that is going to be too late," murmured Midshipman Darrin. "Unless I'm greatly misled as to the meaning of the light that has suddenly come into Danny's eyes, he's proposing to her now!"

"Oh!" gasped Belle, and the small spoonful of cream that was passing down her throat threatened to strangle her.

"Dave, how old do you think Miss Henshaw is?" asked Miss Meade, as soon as she could trust herself to speak.

"Twenty, I suppose."

"You don't know much about women's ages, then, do you?" smiled Belle.

"I don't suppose I've any business to know."

"Miss Henshaw is a good many years older than Dan."

"She doesn't look it," urged Dave.

"But she is. Trust another woman to know!"

"There, by Jove!" whispered Dave. "It has started. Danny is running under the wire! I can tell by his face that he has just started to propose."

"Poor boy! He'll have an awful fall!" muttered Belle.

"Why do you say that? But, say! You're right, Belle. Dan's face has turned positively ghastly. He looks worse than he could if he'd just failed to graduate."

"Naturally," murmured Belle. "Poor boy, I'm sorry for him."

"But what's the matter?"

"Did you notice Miss Henshaw's jewelry?"

"Not particularly. I can see, from here, that she's wearing a small diamond in each ear."

"Dave, didn't you see the flat gold band that she wears on the third finger of her left hand?" Belle demanded in a whisper.

"No," confessed Midshipman Darrin innocently. "But what has that to do with—"

"Her wedding ring," Belle broke in. "Dan has gotten her title twisted. She's Mrs. Henshaw."

"Whew! But what, in that case, is she doing strolling around with a midshipman? That's no proper business for a married woman," protested Dave Darrin.

"Haven't you called on or escorted any married women since you've been at Annapolis?" demanded Belle bluntly.

"Yes; certainly," nodded Dave. "But, in every instance they were wives of Naval officers, and such women looked upon midshipmen as mere little boys."

"Isn't there an Admiral Henshaw in the Navy?" inquired Belle.

"Certainly."

"That's Mrs. Henshaw," Belle continued.

"How do you know?"

"I don't, but I'm certain, just the same. Now, Dan has met Mrs. Henshaw somewhere down at the Naval Academy. He heard her name and got it twisted into Miss Henshaw. It's his own blundering fault, no doubt. But Admiral Henshaw's young and pretty wife is not to be blamed for allowing a boyish midshipman to stroll with her as her escort."

"Whew!" whistled Dave Darrin under his breath. "So Dan has been running it blind again? Oh, Belle, it's a shame! I'm heartily sorry that we've been here to witness the poor old chap's Waterloo."

"So am I," admitted Belle. "But the harm that has been done is due to Dan's own blindness. He should learn to read ordinary signs as he runs."

No wonder Dan Dalzell's face had gone gray and ashy. For the time being he was feeling keenly. He had been so sure of "Miss" Henshaw's being a splendid woman—as, indeed, she was—that he decided on this, their third meeting, to try his luck with a sailor's impetuous wooing. In other words, he had plumply asked the admiral's wife to marry him;

"Why, you silly boy!" remonstrated Mrs. Henshaw, glancing up at him with a dismayed look. "I don't know your exact age, Mr. Dalzell, but I think it probable that I am at least ten years older than—"

"I don't care," Dan maintained bravely.

"Besides, what would the admiral say?"

"Is he your father or your brother?" Dan inquired.

"My husband!"

Then it was that Midshipman Dalzell's face had gone so suddenly gray. He fairly gasped and felt as though he were choking.

"Mr. Dalzell," spoke Mrs. Henshaw, earnestly, "let us both forget that you ever spoke such unfortunate words. Let us forget it all, and let it pass as though nothing had happened at all. I will confess that, two or three times, I thought you addressed me as 'miss.' I believed it to be only a slip of the tongue. I didn't dream that you didn't know. Even if I were a single woman I wouldn't think of encouraging you for a moment, for I am much—much—too old for you. And now, let us immediately forget it all, Mr. Dalzell. Shall we continue our stroll?"

Somehow the dazed midshipman managed to reply gracefully, and to follow his fair companion from Wiegard's.

"Poor Dan!" sighed Dave. "I'll wager that's the worst crusher that Dalzell ever had. But how do you read so much at a glance, Belle?"

"By keeping my eyes moderately well opened," that young woman answered simply.

"I wonder where poor Dan's adventures in search of a wife are going to end up?" mused Darrin.

"He'd better accept the course that you outlined for him a little while ago," half smiled Belle. "Dan's very best course will be to devote his thoughts wholly to his profession for a few years, and wait until the right woman comes along and chooses him for herself. You may tell Dan, from me, some time, if it won't hurt his feelings, that I think his only safe course is to shut his eyes and let the woman do the choosing."

"I must be a most remarkably fine fellow myself," remarked Midshipman Darrin modestly.

"Why do you think that?"

"Why, a girl with eyes as sharp as yours, Belle, would never have accepted me if there had been a visible flaw on me anywhere."

"There are no very pronounced flaws except those that I can remedy when I take charge of you, Dave," replied Belle with what might have been disconcerting candor.

"Then I'm lucky in at least one thing," laughed Darrin good-humoredly. "When my turn comes I shall be made over by a most capable young woman. Then I shall be all but flawless."

"Or else I shall take a bride's privilege," smiled Belle demurely, "and go back to mother."

"You'll have plenty of time for that," teased Dave. "A Naval officer's time is spent largely at sea, and he can't take his wife with him."

"Don't remind me of that too often," begged Belle, a plaintive note in her voice. "Your being at sea so much is the only flaw that I see in the future. And, as neither of us will be rich, I can't follow you around the world much of the time."

When Midshipman Dave Darrin reentered his quarters late that afternoon be found Dan Dalzell sitting back in a chair, his hands thrust deep into his pockets. His whole attitude was one of most unmilitary dejection.

"Dave, I've run the ship aground again," Dan confessed ruefully.

"I know you have, Danny," Darrin replied sympathetically.

Dan Dalzell bounded to his feet.

"What?" he gasped. "Is the story going the rounds?"

"It can't be."

"Then did you hear what we were saying this afternoon in Wiegard's?"

"No; we were too far away for that. But I judged that you had succeeded in making Mrs. Henshaw feel very uncomfortable for a few moments."

"Then you knew she was a married woman, Dave?"

"No; but Belle did."

"How, I—wonder?"

"She saw the wedding ring on Mrs. Henshaw's left hand."

Dan Dalzell looked the picture of amazement. Then he whistled in consternation.

"By the great Dewey!" he groaned hoarsely. "I never thought of that!"

"No; but you should have done so."

"Dave, I'm the biggest chump in the world. Will you do me a supreme favor—kick me?"

"That would be too rough, Dan. But, if you can stand it, Belle offered me some good advice for you in your affairs with women."

"Thank her for me, when you get a chance, but I don't need it," replied Dan bitterly. "I'm through with trying to find a sweetheart, or any candidate to become Mrs. Dalzell."

"But you'd better listen to the advice," Dave insisted, and repeated what Belle had said.

"By Jove, Dave, but you're lucky to be engaged to a sensible girl like Belle! I wish there was another like her in the world."

"Why?"

"If there were another like Belle I'd be sorely tempted to try my luck for the fourth time."

"Dan Dalzell!" cried Dave sternly. "You're not safe without a guardian! You'll do it again, between now and graduation."

"You can watch me, if you want, then; but I'll fool you," smiled Dan. "But say, Dave!"

"Well?"

"You don't suppose Belle will say anything about this back in Gridley, do you? By Jove, if she does I'd feel——

"You'll feel something else," warned Dave snappily, "if you don't at once assure me that you know Belle too well to think that she'd make light of your misfortunes."

"But sometimes girls tell one another some things——"

"Belle Meade doesn't," interrupted Dave so briskly that Dalzell, after a glance, agreed:

"You're right there, David, little giant. I've known Belle ever since we were kids at the Central Grammar School. If Belle ever got into any trouble through too free use of her tongue, then I never heard anything about it."

"Dan, do you want a fine suggestion about the employment of the rest of your liberty time while we're at Annapolis?"

"Yes."

"You remember Barnes's General History, that we used to have in Grammar school?"

"Yes."

"Devote your liberty time to reading the book through again."

XXI. IN THE THICK OF DISASTER

Examination week—torture of the "wooden" and seventh heaven of the "savvy!"

For the wooden man, he who knows little, this week of final examinations is a period of unalloyed torture. He must go before an array of professors who are there to expose his ignorance.

No "wooden" man can expect to get by. The gates of hope are closed before his face. He marches to the ordeal, full of a dull misery. Whether he is fourth classman or first, he knows that hope has fled; that he will go below the saving 2.5 mark and be dropped from the rolls.

But your "savvy" midshipman—he who knows much, and who is sure and confident with his knowledge, finds this week of final examinations a period of bliss and pride. He is going to "pass"; he knows that, and nothing else matters.

Eight o'clock every morning, during this week, finds the midshipman in one recitation room or another, undergoing his final. As it is not the purpose of the examiners to wear any man out, the afternoon is given over to pleasures. There are no afternoon examinations, and no work of any sort that can be avoided. Indeed, the "savvy" man has a week of most delightful afternoons, with teas, lawn parties, strolls both within and without the walls of the Academy grounds, and many boating parties. It is in examination week that the young ladies flock to Annapolis in greater numbers than ever.

Sometimes the "wooden" midshipman, knowing there is no further hope for him, rushes madly into the pleasures of this week, determined to carry back into civil life with him the memories of as many Annapolis pleasures as possible.

A strong smattering there is of midshipmen who, by no means "savvy," are yet not so "wooden" but that they hope, by hard study at the last to pull through on a saving margin in marks.

These desperate ones do not take part in the afternoon pleasures, for these midshipmen, with furrowed brows, straining eyes, feverish skin and dogged determination, spend their afternoons and evenings in one final assault on their text-books in the hope of pulling through.

Dave Darrin was not one of the honor men of his class, but he was "savvy" just the same. Dan Dalzell was a few notches lower in the class standing, but Dan was as sure of graduation as was his chum.

"One thing goes for me, this week," announced Dan, just before the chums hustled out to dinner formation on Monday.

"What's that?" Dave wanted to know. "No girls; no tender promenades!" grumbled Midshipman Dalzell.

"Poor old chap," muttered Dave sympathetically.

"Oh, that's all right for you," grunted Dan. "You have one of the 'only' girls, and so you're safe."

"There are more 'only' girls than you've any idea of, Dan Dalzell," Dave retorted with spirit. "The average American girl is a mighty fine, sweet, wholesome proposition."

"I'll grant that," nodded Dan, with a knowing air. "But I've made an important discovery concerning the really fine girls."

"Produce the discovery," begged Darrin. "The really fine girl," announced Dan, in a hollow voice, "prefers some other fellow to me."

"Well, I guess that'll be a fine idea for you to nurse—until after graduation," reflected Darrin aloud. "I'm not going to seek to undeceive you, Danny boy."

So Dave went off to meet Belle and her mother, while Dan Dalzell hunted up another first classman who also believed that the girls didn't particularly esteem him. That other fellow was Midshipman Jetson.

"Mrs. Davis is giving a lawn party this afternoon," announced Dave, after he had lifted his cap in greeting of Mrs. Meade and her daughter. "I have an invitation from Mrs. Davis to escort you both over to her house. Of course, if you find the tea and chatter a bit dull over there, we can go somewhere else presently."

"I never find anything dull that is a part of the life here," returned Belle, little enthusiast for the Navy. "It will suit you, mother?"

"Anything at all will suit me," declared Mrs. Meade amiably. "David, just find me some place where I can drop into an armchair and have some other middle-aged woman like myself to talk with. Then you young people need pay no further heed to me. Examination week doesn't last forever."

"It doesn't," laughed Darrin, "and many of our fellows are very thankful for that."

"How are you going to come through?" Belle asked, with a quick little thrill of anxiety.

"Nothing to worry about on that score," Dave assured her. "I'm sufficiently 'savvy' to pull sat. all right."

"Isn't that fine? And Dan?"

"Oh, he'll finish sat., too, if he doesn't sight another craft flying pink hair ribbons."

"Any danger of that?" asked Belle anxiously, for Dan was a townsman of hers.

"Not judging by the company that Dan is keeping to-day," smiled Darrin.

"Who is his companion to-day, then?"

"Jetson, a woman hater."

"Really a woman hater?" asked Belle.

"Oh, no; Jet wouldn't poison all girls, or do anything like that. He isn't violent against girls. In fact, he's merely shy when they're around. But in the service any fellow who isn't always dancing attendance on the fair is doomed to be dubbed a woman hater. In other words, a woman hater is just a fellow who doesn't pester girls all the time."

"Are you a woman hater?" Belle asked.

"Except when you are at Annapolis," was Dave's ready explanation.

That afternoon's lawn party proved a much more enjoyable affair than the young people had expected. Belle met there, for the first time, five or six girls with whom she was to be thrown often later on.

When it was over, Dave, having town liberty as well, proudly escorted his sweetheart and her mother back to the hotel.

There were more days like it. Dave, by Thursday, realizing that he was coming through his morning trials with flying colors, had arranged permission to take out a party in one of the steamers.

As the steamer could be used only for a party Darrin invited Farley and Wolgast to bring their sweethearts along. Mrs. Meade at first demurred about going.

"You and Belle have had very little time together," declared that good lady, "and I'm not so old but that I remember my youth. With so large a party there's no need of a chaperon."

"But we'd immensely like to have you come," urged Dave; "that is, unless you'd be uncomfortable on the water."

"Oh, I'm never uncomfortable on the water," Belle's mother replied.

"Then you'll come, won't you?" pleaded Dave. Belle's mother made one of the jolly party.

"You'd better come, too, Danny boy," urged Dave at the last moment. "There'll be no unattached girl with the party, so you'll be vastly safer with us than you would away from my watchful eye."

"Huh! A fine lot your watchful eye has been on me this week," retorted Midshipman Dalzell. "Jetson has been my grandmother this week."

It was a jolly party that steamed down Chesapeake Bay in the launch that afternoon. There was an enlisted man of the engineer department at the engine, while a seaman acted as helmsman.

"Straight down the bay, helmsman," Dave directed, as the launch headed out.

"Aye, aye, sir," replied the man, touching his cap.

After that the young people—Mrs. Meade was included under that heading—gave themselves over to enjoyment. Belle, with a quiet twinkle in her eyes that was born of the love of teasing, tried very hard to draw Mr. Jetson out, thereby causing that young man to flush many times.

Dan, from the outset, played devoted squire to Mrs. Meade. That was safe ground for him.

"What's that party in the sailboat yonder?" inquired Mrs. Meade, when the steamer had been nearly an hour out. "Are the young men midshipman or officers?"

Dave raised to his eyes the glasses with which the steamer was equipped.

"They're midshipmen," he announced. "Gray and Lambert, of our class, and Haynes and Whipple of the second class."

"They've young ladies with them."

"Certainly."

"Isn't it rather risky for midshipmen to have control of the boat, then, with no older man along?" asked Mrs. Meade.

"It ought not to be," Dave replied. "Midshipmen of the upper classes are expected to be familiar with the handling of sailboats."

"Those fellows are getting careless, at any rate," muttered Dan Dalzell. "Look at the way that sail is behaving. Those fellows are paying too much attention to the girls and too little heed to the handling of the craft!"

Even as Dalzell spoke the helm was jammed over and the boat started to come about.

"Confound Lambert! He ought to ease off his sheet a good bit," snapped Midshipman Dalzell.

"Helmsman, point our boat so as to pass under the other craft's stern," spoke Darrin so quietly that only Dan and Belle overheard him.

"Aye, aye, sir," murmured the helmsman, in a very low voice. Dave signaled the engineman silently to increase the speed.

"There the boat goes, the sail caught by a cross current of air!" called Midshipman Dalzell almost furiously.

The girls aboard the sailboat now cried out in alarm as they felt the extreme list of the boat under them. All too late Midshipman Gray Sprang for the sheet to ease it off.

Too late! In another moment the sailboat had capsized, the mast nearly snapping in the blow over.

"Make haste—do!" cried Mrs. Meade, rising in the steamer.

But the steamer was already under increased headway, and the helmsman had to make but a slight turn to bear down directly to the scene of the disaster.

Three midshipmen could be seen floundering in the water, each steadily supporting the head of a girl. But the fourth, midshipman was floundering about wildly. Then he disappeared beneath the water.

"That young man has given up and gone down!" cried Mrs. Meade, whom Dave had just persuaded to resume her seat.

"No," Dave assured her. "Gray isn't drowning. But his girl companion is missing, and he has dived to find her."

"Then the girl is lost!" quivered Mrs. Meade.

"No; I think not. Gray is a fine swimmer, and will find Miss Butler before she has been under too long a time."

Then Dave rose, for he was commander here. "Danny boy, throw off your shoes and blouse and cap. The rest stand by the boat to give such aid as you can. Ladies, you'll excuse us."

Thereupon Dave Darrin doffed his own cap, blouse and shoes. He and Dalzell were the two best swimmers in the party, and it looked as though there would be work ahead for them to do.

In another moment the steamer was on the scene, and speed was shut off. Lambert, Haynes and Whipple, with their girl companions, were speedily reached and hauled aboard.

Then Gray came up, but alone.

"Hasn't Pauline come up?" he gasped in terror.

"No," Darrin replied shortly, but in a voice laden with sympathy.

"Then I've got to down again," replied Gray despairingly. "I'd better stay down, too."

He sank instantly, a row of bubbles coming up at the spot where he had vanished.

"The poor, unfortunate fellow! He won't really attempt to drown himself, will he, if he doesn't find his young woman friend?" inquired Mrs. Meade.

"No," Dave answered without turning. "And we wouldn't allow him to do so, either."

Dave waited but a brief interval, this time. Then, as Midshipman Gray did not reappear, he called:

"Danby!"

"Yes, sir," replied the enlisted man by the engine.

"Hustle forward and rig a rope loop to the anchor cable. How long is the anchor?"

"About three feet, sir."

"Then rig the loop two feet above the mudhook."

"Yes, sir."

"Hustle!"

"Yes, sir."

"Is Gray trying to stay under? Trying to drown himself as a sign of his repentance?" whispered Wolgast in Dave's ear. But Darrin shook his head. An instant later Gray shot up to the surface—alone!

"Come aboard," ordered Dave Darrin, but he did not rely entirely on coaxing. Snatching up a boat-hook he fastened it in Gray's collar and drew that midshipman alongside, where many ready hands stretched out and hauled him aboard.

Two of the rescued young women were now sobbing almost hysterically.

"If you won't let me stay in the water, won't some of the rest of you do something?" demanded Midshipman Gray hoarsely.

"We're going to," nodded Dave. "Danby!"

"Yes, sir."

"Let go the anchor."

"Very good, sir."

"Follow me, Dan," directed Dave. The anchor went overboard while the two midshipmen were hustling forward.

"I'm going down first, Danny," explained Dave. "Follow whenever you may think you need to, but don't be in too big a hurry. Use good judgment."

"Trust me," nodded Dan hoarsely.

With that Dave seized the visible part of the anchor cable and went down, forcing himself toward the bottom by holding to the cable. It was a difficult undertaking, as, after he had gone part of the way, the buoyancy of the water fought against his efforts to go lower. But Midshipman Darrin still gripped hard at the cable, fighting foot by foot. His eyes open, at last he sighted the loop near the anchor. With a powerful effort he reached that loop, thrusting his left arm through it. The strain almost threatened to break that arm, but Dave held grimly, desperately on.

Now he looked about him. Fortunately there was no growth of seaweed at this point, and he could see clearly for a distance of quite a few yards around him.

"Queer what can have become of the body!" thought Darrin. "But then, the boat has drifted along slightly, and Miss Butler may have sunk straight down. She may be lying or floating here just out of my range of vision. I wish I could let go and strike out, but I'd only shoot up to the surface after a little."

Many a shadow in the deep water caused Darrin to start and peer the harder, only to find that he had been deceived.

At that depth the weight of the water pressed dangerously upon his head and in his ears. Dave felt his senses leaving him.

"I'd sooner die than give up easily!" groaned the young midshipman, and he seemed about to have his wish.

XXII. THE SEARCH AT THE BOTTOM OF THE BAY

By the strongest effort of the will that he could make, Darrin steadied himself and forced his eyes once more open.

Drifting toward him, two feet above his head, was what looked like another shadow. It came closer.

At the first thought Darrin was inclined not to believe his senses.

"I'll have to go up, after all, and let Dan have his chance. I'm seeing things," Dave decided.

For, though the object floating toward him had some of the semblance of a skirt-clad figure, yet it looked all out of proportion—perhaps twice the size of Pauline Butler.

That was a trick of the scanty light coming through the water at an angle—this coupled with Darrin's own fatigue of the eyes.

Closer it came, and looked a bit smaller.

"It is a girl—a woman—some human being!" throbbed Dave internally.

Now, though his head seeming bursting, Dave hung on more tightly than ever. The drift of the water was bringing the body slowly nearer to him. He must hold on until he could let himself strike upward, seizing that body in his progress.

At last the moment arrived. Dave felt a hard tug at the cable, but he did not at that instant realize that Dan Dalzell had just started down from the steamer.

Dave judged that the right instant had come. He let go of the loop, and was shot upward. But, as he moved, his spread arms caught hold of the floating figure.

Up to within a few feet of the surface Darrin and his burden moved easily. Then he found it necessary to kick out hard with his feet. Thus he carried the burden clear, to the open air above, though at a distance of some forty feet from the steamer.

"There they are!" Farley's voice was heard calling, and there was a splash.

"Bully for you, old fellow! Hold her up, and I'm with you!" hailed Midshipman Farley.

In another moment Dave Darrin had been eased of his human burden, and Farley was swimming to the steamer with the senseless form of Pauline Butler.

Darrin tried to swim, and was astounded at finding himself so weak in the water. He floated, propelling himself feebly with his hands, completely exhausted.

Just at that moment nearly every eye was fixed on Farley and his motionless burden, and many pairs of hands stretched out to receive them.

Yet the gaze of one alert pair of eyes was fixed on Darrin, out there beyond.

"Now, you'd better look after Dave," broke in the quiet, clear voice of Belle Meade. "I think he needs help."

Wolgast went over the side in an instant, grappling with Midshipman Darrin and towing him to the side of the boat.

"All in!" cried Midshipman Gray jubilantly.

"Except Dan. Where's he?" muttered Dave weakly, as he sat on one of the side seats.

"I'll signal him," muttered Wolgast, and hastened forward to the anchor cable. This he seized and shook clumsily several times. The vibrated motion must have been imparted downward, for soon Dan Dalzell's head came above water.

"Everyone all right?" called Dan, as soon as he had gulped in a mouthful of air.

"O.K." nodded Wolgast. "Come alongside and let me haul you in."

"You let me alone," muttered Dalzell, coming alongside and grasping the rail. "Do you think a short cold bath makes me too weak to attend to myself?"

With that Dan drew himself aboard. Back in the cockpit Mrs. Meade and some of the girls were in frenzied way doing their best to revive Pauline Butler, who, at the present moment, showed no signs of life.

"Let me take charge of this reviving job. I've taken several tin medals in first aid to the injured," proclaimed Farley modestly.

In truth the midshipman had a decided knack for this sort of work. He assailed it with vigor, making a heap of life preservers, and over these placing Miss Butler, head downward. Then Farley took vigorous charge of the work of "rolling" out the water that Miss Butler must have taken into her system.

"Get anchor up and start the steamer back to Annapolis at the best speed possible," ordered Dave, long before he could talk in a natural voice.

Wolgast and Dan aided Danny in hoisting the anchor. Steam was crowded on and the little craft cut a swift, straight path for Annapolis.

"Pauline is opening her eyes!" cried Farley, after twenty minutes more of vigorous work in trying to restore the girl.

The girl's eyes merely fluttered, though, as a slight sigh escaped her. The eyelids fell again, and there was but a trace of motion at the pulse.

"We mustn't lose the poor child, now that we've succeeded in proving a little life there," cried Mrs. Meade anxiously.

"Now, that's what I call a reflection on the skill of Dr. Farley," protested that midshipman in mock indignation. It was necessary, at any amount of trouble, to keep these women folks on fair spirits until Annapolis was reached. Then, perhaps, many of them would faint.

All of the dry jackets of midshipmen aboard had been thrown protectingly around the girls who had been in the water.

"Torpedo boat ahead, sir," reported the helmsman.

"Give her the distress signal to lie to," directed Dave.

The engine's whistle sent out the shrieking appeal over the waters. The destroyer was seen to heave about and come slowly to meet the steamer.

Long before the two craft had come together Dave Darrin was standing, holding to one of the awning stanchions, for he was not yet any too strong.

"Destroyer, ahoy!" he shouted as loudly as he could between his hands. "Have you a surgeon aboard?"

"Yes," came back the answer.

"Let us board you, sir!"

"What's——"

But Dave had turned to the helmsman with:

"Steam up alongside. Lose no time."

In a very short space of time the destroyer was reached and the steamer ran alongside. The unconscious form of Miss Butler was passed up over the side, followed by the other members of the sailboat party. Mrs. Meade followed, in case she could be of any assistance.

"You may chaperon your party of young ladies in the steamer, Belle," smiled Mrs. Meade from the deck of the destroyer. "I give you express authority over them."

Farley's and Wolgast's sweethearts laughed merrily at this. All hands had again reached the point where laughter came again to their lips without strong effort. Pauline Butler was safe under the surgeon's hands, if anywhere.

Then the destroyers pulled out again, hitting a fast clip for Annapolis.

"That's the original express boat; this is only a cattle-carrier," muttered Dave, gazing after the fast destroyer.

"Calling us cattle, are you?" demanded Belle. "As official chaperon I must protest on behalf of the young ladies aboard."

"A cattle boat often carries human passengers," Dave returned. "I call this a cattle boat only because of our speed."

"We don't need speed now," Belle answered. "Those who do are on board the destroyer."

By the time that the steamer reached her berth at the Academy wall, and the young people had hastened ashore, they learned that Pauline Butler had been removed to a hospital in Annapolis; that she was very much alive, though still weak, and that in a day or two she would again be all right.

With a boatswain's mate in charge, another steamer was despatched down the bay to recover and tow home the capsized sailboat.

Examination week went through to its finish. By Saturday night the first classmen knew who had passed. But two of the members of the class had "bilged." Dave, Dan and all their close friends in the class had passed and had no ordeal left at Annapolis save to go through the display work of Graduation Week.

"You still have your two years at sea, though, before you're sure of your commission," sighed Belle, as they rested between dances that Saturday night.

"Any fellow who can live through four years at Annapolis can get through the two years at sea and get his commission at last," laughed Dave Darrin happily. "Have no fears, Belle, about my being an ensign, if I have the good fortune to live two years more."

XXIII. GRADUATION DAY—AT LAST

Graduation Week!

Now came the time when the Naval Academy was given over to the annual display of what could be accomplished in the training of midshipmen.

There were drills and parades galore, with sham battles in which the sharp crack of rifle fire was punctured by the louder, steadier booms of field artillery. There were gun-pointing contests aboard the monitors and other practice craft.

There were exhibitions of expert boat-handling, and less picturesque performances at the machine shops and in the engine and dynamo rooms. There were other drills and exhibitions—enough of them to weary the reader, as they doubtless did weary the venerable members of a Board of Visitors appointed by the President.

On Wednesday night came the class german. Now our young first classmen were in for another thrill—the pleasure of wearing officers' uniforms for the first time.

On graduation the midshipman is an officer of the Navy, though a very humble one. The graduated midshipman's uniform is a more imposing affair than the uniform of a midshipman who is still merely a member of the brigade at the Naval Academy.

On this Wednesday evening the new uniforms were of white, the summer and tropical uniform of the Navy. These were donned by first classmen only in honor of the class german, which the members of the three lower classes do not attend.

All the young women attending were also attired wholly in white, save for simple jewelry or coquettish ribbons.

Dave Darrin, of course, escorted Belle Meade with all the pride in the world. Most of the other midshipmen "dragged" young women on this great evening.

Dan Dalzell did not. He attended merely for the purpose of looking on, save when he danced with Belle Meade.

On the following evening, after another tiresome day spent in boring the Board of Visitors, came the evening promenade, a solemnly joyous and very dressy affair.

Then came that memorable graduation morning, when so many dozens of young midshipmen, since famous in the Navy, received their diplomas.

Early the young men turned out.

"It seems queer to be turning out without arms, doesn't it?" grumbled Dan Dalzell.

But it is the rule for the graduating class to turn out without arms on this one very grand morning. The band formed on the right of line. Next to them marched to place the graduating class, minus arms. Then the balance of the brigade under arms.

When the word was given a drum or two sounded the step, and off the brigade marched, slowly and solemnly. A cornet signal, followed by a drum roll, and then the Naval Academy Band crashed into the joyous march, consecrated to this occasion, "Ain't I glad I'm out of the wilderness!"

"Amen! Indeed I'm glad," Dave Darrin murmured devoutly under his breath. "There has been many a time in the last four years when I didn't expect to graduate. But now it's over. Nothing can stop Dan or myself!"

Crowds surrounded the entrance to the handsome, classic chapel, though the more favored crowds had already passed inside and filled the seats that are set apart for spectators.

Inside filed the midshipmen, going to their seats in front. The chaplain, in the hush that followed the seating, rose, came forward and in a voice husky with emotion urged:

"Friends, let us pray for the honor, success, glory and steadfast manhood through life of the young men who are about to go forth with their diplomas."

Every head was bowed while the chaplain's petition ascended.

When the prayer was over the superintendent, in full dress uniform, stepped to the front of the rostrum and made a brief address. Sailors are seldom long-winded talkers. The superintendent's address, on this very formal occasion, lasted barely four minutes. But what he said was full of earnest manhood and honest patriotism.

Then the superintendent dropped to his chair. There were not so very many dry eyes when the choir beautifully intoned:

"God be with you till we meet again!"

But now another figure appeared on the rostrum. Though few of the young men had ever seen this new-comer, they knew him by instinct. At a signal from an officer standing at the side of the chapel, the members of the brigade broke forth into thunderous hurrahs. For this man, now about to address them, was their direct chief.

"Gentlemen and friends," announced the superintendent, "I take the greatest pleasure that may come to any of us in introducing our chief—the Secretary of the Navy."

And now other officers appeared on the rostrum, bearing diplomas and arranging them in order.

The name of the man to graduate first in his class was called. He went forward and received his diploma from the Secretary, who said:

"Mr. Ennerly, it is, indeed, a high honor to take first place in such a class as yours!"

Ennerly, flushed and proud, returned to his seat amid applause from his comrades.

And so there was a pleasant word for each midshipman as he went forward.

When the Secretary picked up the seventeenth diploma he called:

"David Darrin!"

Who was the most popular man in the brigade of midshipmen? The midshipmen themselves now endeavored to answer the question by the tremendous explosions of applause with which they embarrassed Dave as he went forward.

"Mr. Darrin," smiled the Secretary, "there are no words of mine that can surpass the testimonial which you have just received from your comrades. But I will add that we expect tremendous things from you, sir, within the next few years. You have many fine deeds and achievements to your credit here, sir. Within the week you led in a truly gallant rescue human life down the bay. Mr. Darrin, in handing you your well-earned diploma, I take upon myself the liberty of congratulating your parents on their son!"

As Dave returned to his seat with his precious sheepskin the elder Darrin, who was in the audience, took advantage of the renewed noises of applause to clear his throat huskily several times. Dave's mother honestly used her handkerchief to dry the tears of pride that were in her eyes.

Another especial burst of applause started when Daniel Dalzell, twenty-first in his class, was called upon to go forward.

"I didn't believe Danny Grin would ever get through," one first classman confided behind his hand to another. "I expected that the upper classmen would kill Danny Grin before he ever got over being a fourth classman."

But here was Dan coming back amid more applause, his graduation number high enough to make it practically certain that he would be a rear admiral one of these days when he had passed the middle stage of life in the service.

One by one the other diplomas were given out, each accompanied by some kindly message from the Secretary of the Navy, which, if remembered and observed, would be of great value to the graduate at some time in the future.

The graduating exercises did not last long. To devote too much time to them would be to increase the tension.

Later in the day the graduated midshipmen again appeared. They were wearing their new coats now, several inches longer in the tail, and denoting them as real officers in the Navy. A non-graduate midshipman must salute one of these graduates whenever they meet.

In their room, to be occupied but one night more, Dave and Dan finished dressing in their new uniforms at the same moment.

"Shake, Danny boy!" cried Dave Darrin, holding out his hand. "How does it seem, at last, to know that you're really an officer in the Navy?"

"Great!" gulped Dalzell. "And I don't mind admitting that, during the last four years, I've had my doubts many a time that this great day would ever come for we. But get your cap's and let's hustle outside."

"Why this unseemly rush, Danny?"

"I want to round up a lot of under classmen and make them tire their arms out saluting me."

"Your own arm will ache, too, then, Danny. You are obliged, as of course you know, to return every salute."

"Hang it, yes! There's a pebble in every pickle dish, isn't there?"

"You're going to the graduation ball tonight, of course?"

"Oh, surely," nodded Dalzell. "After working as I've worked for four years for the privilege, I'd be a fool to miss it. But I'll sneak away early, after I've done a friend's duty by you and Belle. No girls for me until I'm a captain in the Navy!"

The ball room was a scene of glory that night. Bright eyes shone unwontedly, and many a heart fluttered. For Belle Meade was not the only girl there who was betrothed to a midshipman. Any graduate who chose might marry as soon as he pleased, but nearly all the men of the class preferred to wait until they had put in their two years at sea and had won their commissions as ensigns.

"This must be a night of unalloyed pleasure to you," murmured Belle, as she and her young officer sweetheart sat out one dance. "You can look back over a grand four years of life here."

"I don't know that I'd have the nerve to go through it all again," Darrin answered her honestly.

"You don't have to," Belle laughed happily. "You put in your later boyhood here, and now your whole life of manhood is open before you."

"I'll make the best use of that manhood that is possible for me," Dave replied solemnly.

"You must have formed some wonderful friendships here."

"I have."

"And, I suppose," hesitated Belle, "a few unavoidable enmities."

"I don't know about that," Dave replied promptly and with energy. "I can't think of a fellow here that I wouldn't be ready and glad to shake hands with. I hope—I trust—that all of the fellows in the brigade feel the same way about me."

XXIV. CONCLUSION

There was one more formation yet—one more meal to be eaten under good old Bancroft Hall.

But right after breakfast the graduates, each one now in brand-new cit. attire, began to depart in droves.

Some went to the earliest train; others stopped at the hotels and boarding houses in town to pick up relatives and friends with whom the gladsome home journey was to be made.

"I don't like you as well in cits.," declared Belle, surveying Dave critically in the hotel parlor.

"In the years to come," smiled Dave, "you'll see quite enough of me in uniform."

"I don't know about that," Belle declared, her honest soul shining in her eyes. "Do you feel that you'll ever see enough of me?"

"I know that I won't," Dave rejoined. "You have one great relief in prospect," smiled Belle. "Whenever you do grow tired of me you can seek orders to some ship on the other side of the world."

"The fact that I can't be at home regularly," answered Midshipman Darrin, "is going to be the one cloud on our happiness. Never fear my seeking orders that take me from home—unless in war time. Then, of course, every Naval officer must burn the wires with messages begging for a fighting appointment."

"I'm not afraid of your fighting record, if the need ever comes," replied Belle proudly. "And, Dave, though my heart breaks, I'll never show you a tear in my eyes if you're starting on a fighting cruise."

Mrs. Meade and Dave's parents now entered the room, and soon after Danny Grin, who had gone in search of his own father and mother, returned with them.

"What are we going to do now?" asked Mr. Darrin. "I understand that we have hours to wait for the next train."

"We can't do much, sir," replied Dave. "Within another hour this will be the deadest town in the United States."

"I should think you young men would want to spend most of the intervening time down at the Naval Academy, looking over the familiar spots once more," suggested Mrs. Dalzell.

"Then I'm afraid, mother, that you don't realize much of the way that a midshipman feels. The Naval Academy is our alma mater, and a beloved spot. Yet, after what I've been through there during the last few years I don't want to see the Naval Academy again. At least, not until I've won a solid step or two in the way of promotion."

"That's the feeling of all the graduates, I reckon," nodded Dave Darrin. "For one, I know I don't want to go back there to-day."

"Some day you will go back there, though," observed Danny Grin.

"Why are you so sure?" Dave asked.

"Well, you were always such a stickler for observing the rules that the Navy Department will have to send you there for some post or other. Probably you'll go back as a discipline officer."

"I would have one advantage over you, then, wouldn't I?" laughed Darrin. "If I had to rebuke a midshipman I could do it with a more serious face than you could."

"I can't help my face," sighed Danny Grin.

"You see, Dave," Mr. Dalzell observed, with a smile, "Dan inherited his face."

"From his father's side of the family," promptly interposed Mrs. Dalzell.

Here Mr. Farley, also in cits., entered the parlor in his dignified fashion.

"Darry, and you, too, Danny Grin, some of the fellows are waiting outside to see you. Will you step out a moment?"

"Where are the fellows?" asked Dave unsuspectingly.

"You'll find them on the steps outside the entrance."

Dave started for the door.

"You're wanted, too, Danny Grin, as I told you," Farley reminded him.

"I'll be the Navy goat, then. What's the answer?" inquired Midshipman Dalzell.

"Run along, like a good little boy, and your curiosity will soon be gratified."

Danny Grin looked as though he expected some joke, but he went none the less.

Dave, first to reach the entrance, stepped through into the open. As he did so he saw at least seventy-five of his recent classmates grouped outside.

The instant they perceived their popular comrade the crowd of graduates bellowed forth:

"N N N N, A A A A, V V V V, Y Y Y Y, NAVY! Darrin! Darrin! Darrin!"

In another moment Danny Grin showed himself. Back in his face was hurled the volley:

"N N N N, A A A A, V V V V, Y Y Y Y, NAVY! Grin! Grin! Grin!"

"Eh?" muttered Danny, when the last line reached him. They were unexpected. Then, as be faced the laughing eyes down in the street, Dalzell justified his nickname by one of those broad smiles that had made him famous at the Naval Academy.

Dave Darrin waved his hand in thanks for the "Four-N" yell, the surest sign of popularity, and vanished inside. When he returned to the parlor be found that Farley had conducted his parents and friends to one of the parlor windows, from which, behind drawn blinds, they had watched the scene and heard the uproar without making themselves visible.

At noon the hotel dining room was overrun with midshipmen and their friends, all awaiting the afternoon train.

But at last the time came to leave Annapolis behind in earnest. Extra cars had been put on to handle the throng, for the "train," for the first few miles of the way, usually consists of but one combination trolley car.

"You're leaving the good old place behind," murmured Belle, as the car started.

"Never a graduate yet but was glad to leave Annapolis behind," replied Dave.

"It seems to me that you ought not to speak of the Naval Academy in that tone."

"You'd understand, Belle, if you had been through every bit of the four-year grind, always with the uncertainty ahead of you of being able to get through and grad."

"Perhaps the strict discipline irked you, too," Miss Meade hinted.

"The strict discipline will be part of the whole professional life ahead of me," Darrin responded. "As to discipline, it's even harder on some ships, where the old man is a stickler for having things done just so."

"The old man?" questioned Belle.

"The 'old man' is the captain of a warship."

"It doesn't sound respectful."

"Yet it has always been the name given to the ship's captain, and I don't suppose it will be changed in another hundred years. How does it feel, Danny boy, going away for good?"

"Am I really going away for good?" grinned Dalzell. "I thought it was only a dream."

"Well, here's Odenton. You'll be in Baltimore after another little while, and then it will all seem more real."

"Nothing but Gridley will look real to me on this trip," muttered Dan. "Really, I'm growing sick for a good look at the old home town."

"I wish you could put in the whole summer at home, Dan," sighed his mother. "But, of course, I know that you can't."

"No, mother; I'll have time to walk up and down the home streets two or three times, and then orders will come from the Navy Department to report aboard the ship to which I'm to be assigned. Mother, if you want to keep a boy at home you shouldn't allow him to go to a place where he's taught that nothing on earth matters but the Navy!"

Later in the afternoon the train pulled in at Baltimore. It was nearing dusk when the train pulled out of Philadelphia on its way further north.

Yet the passage of time and the speeding of country past the ear windows was barely noticed by the Gridley delegation. There was too much to talk about—too many plans to form for the next two or three weeks of blissful leave before duty must commence again.

Here we will take leave of our young midshipmen for the present, though we shall encounter them again as they toil on upward through their careers.

We have watched Dave and Dan from their early teens. We met them first in the pages of the "Grammar School Boys' Series." We know what we know of them back in the days when they attended the Central Grammar School and studied under that veteran of teachers, "Old Dut," as he was affectionately known.

We saw them with the same chums, of Dick & Co., when that famous sextette of schoolboys entered High School. We are wholly familiar with their spirited course in the High School. We know how all six of the youngsters of Dick & Co. made the name of Gridley famous for clean and manly sports in general.

Our readers will yet hear from Dave and Dan occasionally. They appear in the pages of the "Young Engineers' Series," and also in the volumes of the "Boys of the Army Series."

In this latter series our young friends will learn just how the romance of Dave Darrin and Belle Meade developed; and they will also come across the similar affair of Dick Prescott and Laura Bentley.

Dave and Dan had, as they had expected, but a brief stay in the home town.

Bright and early one morning a postman handed to each a long, official envelope from the Navy Department. In each instance the envelope contained their orders to report aboard one of the Navy's biggest battleships.

Our two midshipmen were fortunate in one respect. Both were ordered to the same craft, their to finish their early Naval educations in two years of practical work as officers at sea ere they could reach the grade of ensign and step into the ward-room.

THE END