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.
"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," mutteredDalzell.
"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.
"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 MidshipmanQuimby.
"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 withDarrin?" 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 thestudy table, waiting to hear what Farley could say in reply."Well, what do you plan to do further in the matter?" insistedMidshipman 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?" demandedHenkel, 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?" insistedFarley.
"It has to be, sometimes, when we are fighting a rascal," retortedMidshipman 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 withDarrin, 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.
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," murmuredDan 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 whenI 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 werenot 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."
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," laughedHenkel 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.
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."
"Come along, then."
In the office of the officer in charge stood Midshipmen Farley andPage. Just after Dave and Dan entered Henkel came in, accompaniedMidshipman 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," requestedCommander Jephson.
Consulting a slip of paper that he held in his left hand the youngerNaval officer recounted the previous instances in which MidshipmanDarrin, fourth class, U.S. Naval Academy, had been found delinquentin 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.