"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!"



CHAPTER 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.



CHAPTER 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.



CHAPTER 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!"



CHAPTER 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.



CHAPTER 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 a 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!"



CHAPTER 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.



CHAPTER 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 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!



CHAPTER 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.

THE END