Had Dan been able to foresee events which he and Dave must soon encounter, even that grinning midshipman wouldn't have been happy.



CHAPTER XVI

THE MAN WITH A SCOWL ON TAP

"I wish we lived in Annapolis, that we might be here at every hop!" sighed Belle Meade, as the waltz finished and she and Dave, flushed and happy, sought seats at the side of the ballroom.

They had hardly seated themselves when they were joined by Dan and Laura Bentley.

"I was just saying, Laura," Belle went on, "that it would be splendid if we lived here all through the winter. Then we'd have a chance to come to every hop."

"Wouldn't we want to put in a part of the winter near West Point?" asked Miss Bentley, smiling, though with a wistful look in her eyes.

"Perhaps that would be fairer, to you," Belle agreed.

"You'd soon get tired of the hops," ventured Dave.

"Can one ever weary of dancing?" Belle demanded. "Well, perhaps one might, though never on the small amount that has come to me so far in life. And this Navy orchestra plays so divinely!"

"Our number's next, I believe, ladies," called Midshipman Farley, as he and Page came up, eager for their chances with these two very charming belles of the hop.

"Hang you, Farl!" muttered Dave.

"That's just like Darrin, Miss Meade," laughed Farley. "He's always a monopolist at heart. Though in this instance I am far from wondering at his desire to be."

It was the first hop after the semi-annual exams. A host of fourth classmen and some from the upper classes had been dropped immediately after the examinations, but Dave and Dan and all their more intimate friends in the brigade had pulled through. Darrin and Dalzell had come out of the ordeal with the highest markings they had yet achieved at the Naval Academy.

Mrs. Meade had come down to Annapolis to chaperon Belle and Laura, but this evening Mrs. Meade was chatting with a middle-aged Naval officer and so did not see much of the young people.

As the music struck up, Farley and Page claimed consideration, Dave and Dan were left without partners.

"Nothing more doing for two dances, David, little giant," murmured Midshipman Dalzell. "Suppose we slip into our overcoats and walk around outside."

"I'd rather," assented Darrin. "It's dull in here when a fellow isn't dancing."

It was a night of unusually light attendance on the part of the fair sex, with a rather larger attendance than usual of midshipmen, for which reason Dave found many other midshipmen outside, strolling up and down.

"What we need, fellows," called Joyce, coming up to the chums, "is a new regulation that no midshipman may attend a hop unless he drags a femme."

"That would have shut you out of every hop so far this year," laughed Dave.

"I know it," Joyce admitted. "But I'm going to cut all hops after this, unless some real queen will favor me as her escort and agree to dance at least half the numbers with me. I've had only two dances this evening. It's too tame. I'm going back to Bancroft Hall and stand ready to turn in at the first signal. What's the use of hanging around at a hop when there's only one girl to every five fellows?"

"You have suffered the just fate of the free lance," remarked Dan Dalzell virtuously. "As for me, I never think of attending a hop unless I squire some femme thither."

"There used to be girls enough last year," complained Joyce. "Well, I'm off for home and bed."

"We'll stroll along up with you," proposed Darrin.

"No girls for you, either?"

"Not for two numbers. Then we return to the young ladies that we escorted here."

"Just to think," grunted Joyce, sniffing in the salt air that reached them from the waterfront, "a good deal more than a year more here before we get regularly at sea."

"It seems as though we'd been here a long time," sighed Dave. "But I don't suppose there was ever a midshipman yet who didn't long to get away from Annapolis and into the real, permanent life on the wave. A West Point man must feel some of the same longing."

"But he's on the land at West Point," objected Joyce, "and he's still on land after he graduates and goes to some post. The Army cadet has no such glorious future to look forward to as has a midshipman."

"Hello, here's Jet," called Dave as a midshipman enveloped in his overcoat approached them. "Going to the hop, Jet?"

"Will you do me a great favor?" asked Midshipman Jetson.

"Certainly, if possible," agreed Dave cordially.

"Then mind your own business," snapped the other midshipman.

Darrin, who had made it a point to forget the brief unpleasantness of the football season, received this rebuke with about the same feelings that a slap in the face would have given him.

The sulky midshipman had stepped past the trio, but Dave, after swallowing hard, wheeled about and hailed:

"Hold on, there, Mr. Jetson!"

"Well?" demanded Jetson, halting and looking back.

"I don't like your tone, sir."

"And I don't like your face, sir," retorted Jetson. "Nor your cheek, either, for that matter."

"I tried to treat you pleasantly," Dave went on, hurt and offended.

"Oh! It required an effort, did it?" sneered Jetson.

"Something may have happened that I don't know anything about," Darrin continued. "It may be that you have some real reason for treating me as you have just done. If you have any good reason I wish you'd tell me, for in that case I must have done something that put me in wrong. If that's the case, I want to make amends."

"Oh—bosh!" grumbled the other midshipman.

"Come on, now!" urged Dave. "Be a man!"

"Then you imply that I am not?" demanded Jetson aggressively.

"Not necessarily," Dave contended. "I just want to make sure, in my own mind, and I should think you'd be similarly interested."

"If you want to insult me, Mr. Darrin," flared back Jetson, "I'll remain here long enough to hear you and to arrange for resenting the insult. Otherwise—"

"Well?" insisted Dave quietly, though his anger was rising. "Otherwise?"

"Otherwise," retorted Midshipman Jetson, "I'll pursue my way and seek company that pleases me better."

"Look out, Jet, old hot-plate!" laughed Joyce. "You'll soon be insulting all three of us."

"I don't intend to," Jetson rejoined quickly. "My quarrel concerns only Mr. Darrin."

"Oho!" murmured Dave. "There is a quarrel, then?"

"If you choose to pick one."

"But I don't, Mr. Jetson. Quarreling is out of my line. If I've done you any harm or any injustice I'm ready to make good by apologies and otherwise. And, if I haven't wronged you in any way, you should be equally manly and apologize for your treatment of me just now."

"Oh, bosh!" snapped Mr. Jetson once more.

"This is none of my quarrel," interposed Midshipman Joyce, "and I'm not intentionally a promoter of hard feeling. But it seems to me, Jet, that Darry has spoken as fairly as any fellow could. Now, it seems to me that it's up to you to be equally manly."

"So you, too, are asserting that I'm not manly," bristled Mr. Jetson haughtily. "You all seem bound to force trouble on me to-night."

"Not I, then," retorted Joyce, his spirit rising. "I'm finding myself forced to the belief that you're hardly worth having trouble with."

Jetson clenched his fists, taking a step forward, his dark eyes flashing. Then he halted, as though implying that he was not thus easily to be driven into forgetting himself.

"Come along, fellows," urged Dan Dalzell in a low voice. "Mr. Jetson seems to have no intention either of explaining or of affording other satisfaction."

"Hold on, Mr. Jetson, you needn't answer him," interposed Darrin quickly, as Jetson opened his mouth. "First of all this affair seems to concern me. You've intimated that I'm no friend of yours and not worthy to be ranked as such. Now, I ask you, fairly and flatly, what has brought your mind to this pitch? What have I done, or what haven't I done?"

"Search your conscience," jeered Jetson.

"I've been doing so ever since this foolish conversation started, and I haven't found the answer yet. All I recall, Jetson, is that, at the outset of my football practice, there was some little unpleasantness between us. You injured me, twice, in practice play, and I admit that I was somewhat angry about it at the time. But you gave your word that you hadn't intended any tricks against me. I believed you to be a man of honor, and I accepted your word that you were innocent of evil intention against me. Having accepted your word, I held no further grudge in the matter, and I have as nearly forgotten the whole business as a man with a memory can."

"Then tell me why I didn't play on the football eleven?" flamed up Midshipman Jetson.

"Principally, I imagine, because Captain Hepson, after consultation with the coaches, didn't call you to the Navy eleven."

"And why didn't Hepson call me?" followed up Jetson, all his pent-up sulkiness boiling over now.

"I don't know, particularly. Probably, I imagine, for the same reason that he didn't call a lot of other men to the eleven—because he believed he could make a better choice."

"Darrin, you know well enough that you so influenced Hepson to keep me off the team!"

"Jetson, are you mad?"

"No; but I'm naturally angry."

"I give you my word that I didn't do anything to prevent your making the team."

"And you expect me, Mr. Darrin, to believe that?"

"If you decline to do so, it amounts to passing the lie. But I'll overlook that for a moment. Joyce, I think Hepson is not dancing at present. Will you return to the hop, and, if he is not dancing, will you bring him out here?"

"I don't want to see Hepson," cried Midshipman Jetson. "You're the only one I'm interested in in this matter, Mr. Darrin."

"You've virtually refused to accept my word."

"I do so refuse."

"Then you call me—"

"A liar, if you like!" snapped back Midshipman Jetson.

"Sir, do you realize—"

"I realize that you're still talking!" sneered Jetson.

"Then I won't talk any longer," replied Dave Darrin in a quiet but dangerous voice. "Since you refuse to listen even to Hepson—"

"Who's taking my name in vain?" demanded a laughing voice as a burly figure moved in between Dave and his enemy.

The new comer was Hepson, who had come upon the group unnoticed.

"Perhaps you're just in time, Hep," murmured Dave, fighting to cool down his temper. "I wanted you to prove—"

"Stop!" ejaculated Jetson angrily. In his extreme passion he threw all restraint and courtesy to the winds. "I wouldn't take the word of Hepson, or of any man in the entire brigade in this matter. Darrin has lied, and—"

"Step aside, Hep, please," urged Dave, giving the late football captain a gentle shove. "This matter can't go any further in words. Mr. Jetson, you have insulted me, and grossly. Are you capable of cooling down? Do you wish to retract?—to apologize?"

"Apologize to you—you—"

Whatever the word was, it didn't get out, for in the same instant Darrin cried warningly:

"Guard yourself!"

Midshipman Jetson threw up his hands, but Darrin's right fist landed across his offending mouth with such force as to fell the sulky midshipman flat to the earth.



CHAPTER XVII

AN AFFAIR OF SULKS

Having struck the blow, Midshipman Darrin stepped back, to give his opponent an unobstructed chance to rise to his feet.

"What's this all about?" demanded Midshipman Hepson wonderingly.

"It's gone too far for talk, now," replied Dan Dalzell. "Wait until Darry has put a new head on this idiot."

Jetson took his time about getting to his feet When he did rise he didn't assume his guard at once.

"Well," asked Darrin coolly, but mockingly, "have you had all you can stand, or are you going to back up your wild, crazy statements?"

Suddenly Jetson raised one of his feet quickly, as though to kick Dave in the belt line.

"Here, stop that!" cried Hepson and Joyce in the same breath, as they sprang forward. Darrin, seeing others interfere, didn't attempt to strike back, but merely stepped aside.

That was the chance for which Jetson had been watching. His kick didn't land; he hadn't intended that it should, but Dave's surprised recoil gave the other the chance that he really wanted. Both of Jetson's fists struck on Dave's nose, drawing a flood of the crimson.

"You coward! You cur!" gasped amazed Dalzell.

"Silence, all!" ordered Hepson, speaking by virtue of being a first classman. "Jet is crazy, but he can't be expected to take up more than one affair at a time. Darry, take your time to stop the flow of blood. Then you can demand an accounting of Jetson."

"I've nothing more to say," remarked Jetson. "I was struck and I've returned the blow with interest. That ends my concern in the affair. Good night, all."

"Hold on!" ordered Hepson, bounding forward and laying a strong, detaining hand on Jetson's shoulder. "You can't slip away like that. Matters have gone so far that they'll simply have to go further. You'd put yourself wholly in the wrong by withdrawing now—especially after the slimy trick that you've played a fair opponent."

"Slimy, eh?" cried Jetson angrily. "Mr. Hepson, you and I will have to have an accounting, too!"

"Oh, just as you like," responded the first classman, shrugging his shoulders. "You'll find it a better rule, however, to stick to one affair at a time. Darry, are you in shape, now, to attend to this matter from your point of view?"

"Quite," nodded Dave, who had about succeeded in stanching the flow of blood from his injured nose. "Does Mr. Jetson desire to take his coat off or not?"

"Yes!" cried Jetson tempestuously, unbuttoning his own overcoat and tossing it to the ground. "Now, take yours off, Mr. Darrin!"

"It's off," responded Dave, tossing the garment aside. "Now, look to yourself, sir!"

The two second classmen closed in furiously. It was give and take, for a few moments. In the clinches, however, Jetson succeeded in tearing Darrin's dress coat, and also in starting the blood again so that the crimson dripped down on Dave's white shirt front.

At the end of a full minute, however, Darrin had sent his enemy to the ground, stopped in a knock-out. Both of Jetson's eyes were also closed and badly swollen.

"Joyce," asked Hepson, "will you kindly remain with Jetson and see that he is assisted to the hospital, if he needs it? It won't do for too many of us, especially Darry, to be found here by any officer who may be passing."

"I'll attend to it," nodded Midshipman Joyce, "though I'd rather perform the service for any other fellow in the brigade."

Now that the affair was over, and Dave, after inspecting the damage to his dress coat, was pulling on his overcoat, he was suddenly recalled to other responsibilities.

"Danny boy," he said ruefully, as Hepson walked away with them, "I can't very well get back to the hop soon—perhaps not at all tonight. I can't go back in this torn coat, and I may not be able to borrow another that will fit me well. Will you be good enough to hurry back and explain to Belle why I am delayed—perhaps prevented from seeing her again tonight?"

"Certainly," nodded Dalzell, turning and hastening back.

"Now, what was it all about, Darry?" asked Hepson, as he walked along with Dave.

Midshipman Darrin explained the trouble as well as he could.

"So the idiot accused you of keeping him off the football eleven!" demanded Hepson in astonishment.

"Yes; and I offered to prove, by you, that I had nothing to do with his exclusion from the team."

"Why the sole and whole reason why Jetson wasn't called to the Navy team," declared Hepson, "was because he was believed to be too awkward and too dangerous to other players. Whew, but I'm certainly sorry this thing has happened!"

"So am I," Dave confessed candidly.

"And Jet made the further fool mistake of declaring that he wouldn't accept the word of any midshipman in the brigade."

"Something of the sort."

"Why, that's a wholesale, blanket insult to the whole brigade. Darry, your class will have to take action over such a remark as that."

"Oh, Jetson uttered the remark in the heat of an exceptional temper."

"That won't save him," predicted Hepson sagely. "The insult is there and it will stick. Your class, Darry, would lose caste with the fellows here if it allowed such an insult to go."

"Well, if it gets around, I suppose some sort of action will have to be taken."

"The second class, under the circumstances, can't do much less than send Jetson to Coventry."

"Oh, that would be too much!" Dave protested generously. "Jetson has always been an honorable, square fellow in the past."

"He has always been infernally sulky and high-handed," growled Midshipman Hepson.

"A bad temper is not such an uncommon failing," smiled Dave.

"No; but there are limits to the amount of temper that a gentleman may display and still be worthy to associate with gentlemen," contended Hepson stubbornly. "It's the insult to the whole brigade that I'm thinking of. Darry, I'll wager that your class won't and can't do less than give Jetson a trip to Coventry."



"Oh, that would be too much—unjust!" protested Dave.

"The class will do it just the same."

"If the class mixes up in my affair, and carries it so far as to send Jetson to Coventry, I'll be hanged if I don't go there with him!" cried Darrin impulsively.

The words were out. A man of Darrin's honest nature would feel bound to stand by even that heated utterance.

"Oh, come, now, Darry, don't be so foolish over a fellow who has treated you in such fashion."

"I've said it, haven't I?" asked Dave grimly. "It would be an utter injustice, and I'm not going to see something that is my own affair distorted into an injustice that would be altogether out of proportion to Jetson's offense."

By this time the strolling pair of midshipmen had reached the entrance to Bancroft Hall.

"What are you going to try to do about your dress coat, Darry?" asked Hepson in an undertone. "Borrow one?"

"If I can find one that fits."

"Take my advice, then. Don't just borrow, and thereby run a chance of getting both yourself and the lender in trouble. For of course you know that one can never tell when an inspection may be made, and the man whose dress coat was gone would have to account for it. So go to the O. C., state that your coat was accidentally torn, and ask permission to borrow one in order that you may return and escort your ladies back to the hotel. Your O. C. won't raise any objection to that."

"But he might want to see the coat that I have on," grimaced Dave. "Then the O. C. would be sure to see the blood-drips on my shirt front, or the collar, at least. Then talk of a mere accident might lead to questions as to the nature of the accident."

"True," nodded Hepson. "Then get back to your room. Get out clean linen and get into it. While you're doing that I'll negotiate the loan of a dress coat that will fit. Then you can go to the O. C., after you've changed the telltale linen."

This course, accordingly, was followed. Dave changed his linen as quickly as he could, while Hepson appeared with three borrowed dress coats for a try-on. One was found to fill the bill. Resting it over a chair, Darrin slipped on his service blouse and reported to the O.C. Permission was granted to borrow a dress coat. If the officer in charge felt any suspicion or curiosity as to the nature of the accident he cleverly concealed the fact.

A good deal of time, however, had been consumed. By the time that Midshipman Dave Darrin returned to the hop the orchestra was just breaking into the strains of "Home, Sweet Home."

Dave's quick glance roved the floor and the seats. He beheld Belle Meade, seated at the side, while Farley bent over her in an inviting attitude. Darrin quickly reached the scene. Belle saw him coming, just in time to refrain from taking Farley's arm.

"You won't mind this time, will you, Farl?" Dave asked, smiling.

"I had given you up," said Belle, as they moved away together in the dance.

"Of course Dan told you what had delayed me."

"He told me you would return as soon as you could," replied Miss Meade, "but he was provokingly mysterious as to the cause of your absence."

"There was a little trouble," Dave whispered.

"Are you in trouble?" asked Belle quickly, her cheeks paling.

"No; I think not. By trouble I mean that I just took part in a fight."

"So you took the time when I am here as the most suitable occasion for a fight?" asked Belle, her color coming back and heightening.

"It isn't wise for me to explain it now, Belle," Dave told her quickly. "You won't blame me when you know. But I'd rather save it for telling when we are out of the Academy grounds."

"Oh, just as you like. Dave, we mustn't let anything spoil what's left of this last short dance of the night."

"Thank you, Belle. These dances together don't happen any too frequently."

It was when the young people were walking back to the Maryland Hotel, and Mrs. Meade had joined Dan and Laura, that Belle again asked the nature of the trouble that had deprived Darrin of three of his dances with her.

Dave told the story, briefly, adding:

"Under the midshipmen's code, the blow had to be struck when the lie was passed."

"I don't blame you for knocking the fellow down," Belle agreed indignantly. "What a worthless fellow that Mr. Jetson must be!"

"Do you know, Belle, I can't quite bring myself to believe that he is worthless?"

"His conduct shows it," argued the girl.

"At first thought it would appear so but Jetson, I believe, is only the victim of an unhappy temper that makes him suspicious and resentful. He's brave enough, and he's never been caught in a dishonorable trick."

"Except the tricks he played on you at the football practice."

"He passed his word that he intended no trick, and I have been wholly inclined to take his word in the matter."

"Dave, you must look out for this man Jetson! He's going to get you into some trouble before you're through with him," exclaimed Belle earnestly. All her instinct was aroused in the matter, for Dave Darrin's success was dearer to Belle Meade than was anything else in the world.

"There are two things that I regret very much to-night," Dave went on. "One was that Jetson should provoke such a senseless dispute, and the other that I should be obliged to miss so much of your company here at Annapolis."

"I wouldn't mind anything," Belle answered, "if I could feel sure that no more trouble would come out of this affair with Jetson."

"I don't believe there will be any disturbing outcome," Dave assured her; "unless, possibly, another fight."

"A fight is nothing," declared Belle with spirit. "You're in training to become a fighting man, and a bout or two at fistcuffs is nothing more or less than so much valuable experience. Dave, promise me something?"

"Of course, if it's anything promisable."

"You'll write me—"

"Can you doubt that, Belle?"

"And let me know exactly and truthfully if anything further comes of this," she finished.

"I'll write and tell you anything that a midshipman is at liberty to make known concerning the conduct of the brigade."

"Just what does that cover?" asked Belle.

"I can't easily answer until the something or other happens to turn up."

"At any rate, Dave, if I get a suspicion that you're withholding from me anything that I ought to know, I shall be dreadfully worried. You can't have any idea how worried I have been about you sometimes in the past."

Not much time was there for the two midshipmen to remain at the foot of the steps of the hotel Then, after hearty good nights, Dave and Dan left the ladies, whom they would not see again until the next visit.

"From one or two things that I couldn't help overhearing, I judge that Belle is greatly worried over the possibility of trouble arising from the Jetson affair," remarked Dan on the way back to the Naval Academy and quarters.

"Yes," Dave admitted.

"Pooh! How can any trouble come to you out of the matter? With Jetson it's different He declared that he wouldn't take the word of any midshipman in the brigade."

"That was spoken in the heat of temper. Jetson didn't mean it."

"Just the same, some of the fellows have heard of it already, and I shan't be surprised if our class holds a meeting and sends Jetson to Coventry—where the fellow belongs."

"If they send Jetson to Coventry," spoke Dave quietly though bluntly, "I shall go along to Coventry with him."

Dalzell halted, staring at his chum in open-mouthed wonder.

"You idiot!" blazed Dan in wrathful disgust.



CHAPTER XVIII

THE CLASS MEETING SITS AS JURY

Three days later the class meeting was held.

Jetson was especially impressed with the notion that he must attend, since he must appear as the accused. With one of his disposition it was quite natural that the young man should go before the class in a highly resentful mood.

After a few introductory remarks, Jetson was summoned by the class president to rise.

"Mr. Jetson," asked the class president, "do you intend to deny having made the remark imputed to you—that you would not take the word of any midshipman in the brigade!"

"I made the remark, after a measure, sir," Jetson replied. "What I said was that in a certain matter I would not take the word of any midshipman in the brigade if it went counter to my fixed belief."

"Mr. Jetson, don't you consider that, under the circumstances, that amounted to a statement of your unwillingness to accept the word of members of the brigade?"

"I should be sorry to have that construction placed on my remark, Mr. President, for I know that nearly all the men of the brigade are men with a fine sense of honor."

"Then how do you reconcile this statement with your other one?"

"Mr. President, I meant, and I still mean, that I am so certain of the truth of the charge that I made to one Darrin, that, if members of the brigade spoke differently, I would then know that they were not telling the truth."

A storm of protests went up, while one hoarse voice bellowed:

"Throw him out!"

And another called:

"Coventry!"

"Order!" commanded the class president, rapping hard with his gavel. "Mr. Jetson, it is a most serious matter to impugn the good faith and honor of the brigade. It is hardly mitigated by the fact that the words were uttered in the heat of passion, especially when, in your cooler moment, you are not inclined to retract your statement or to render it harmless. I believe, therefore, that I am in accord with the sense of this meeting of the class when I ask you if you have any retraction or apology to offer."

"For the statement, in the form in which I offered it, Mr. President, I have no retraction or apology to offer, and only such explanation as I have lately given."

"Coventry! Coventry!" came the insistent call.

"Well, then, you can send me to Coventry, you friends of Darrin, if you feel yourselves justified in doing it!" quivered Midshipman Jetson, tossing his head and glaring defiantly around the room.

"Mr. President!"

"Mr. Wentworth."

"In view of the charge, and the subsequent statements of Mr. Jetson, I feel that we have an unpleasant duty to perform. The brigade is founded and based on honor. We, the members, cannot allow that honor to be impugned by one who would otherwise be fitted to be a member of the brigade. As Mr. Jetson refuses to retract his words, and as some one must take the initiative, it is my disagreeable duty to move you, sir, that the second class decide that Mr. Jetson is no longer worthy to be of our number, and that he accordingly be sent to Coventry."

"Mr. President!"

"Mr. Page."

"Mr. President, I desire to second the motion, and this I do as regretfully as it was moved."

"Oh, go ahead and send me to Coventry, then!" Jetson blazed forth angrily. "This class appears to have been hypnotized by Darrin. But, even if you do send me to Coventry, we shall see whether your action will be potent enough to drive me from the Naval Academy!"

Waving his arms wildly in the heat of his anger, Midshipman Jetson hurried from the room, midshipmen moving aside to favor his swift exit.

Hardly had the door banged when from all parts of the room the cry went up:

"Question! question! Put the motion."

"Mr. President!"

"Mr. Darrin."

"I arise, sir, to discuss the motion. I ask the gentlemen of the class to bear with me patiently while I set forth some of the aspects of this matter as I see them.

"At the very outset, sir, I wish to make it as plain as possible that I do not seek to stand here as the apologist for Mr. Jetson. I feel very certain that he would not authorize me to take that position. What I state I am stating on my own authority purely, and therein I am only exercising my right as a member of the second class.

"I would remind you, sir, that you all know, as well as I do, that Mr. Jetson has always borne an honorable reputation in this class and in the brigade. You all know his leading traits as well as I do. Mr. Jetson is a man of quick temper and rather lasting resentments. There is a good deal of sullenness in his nature—"

"And they're not the best qualities in a man who is being trained to command!" broke in a midshipman at the rear of the room.

"As to whether Mr. Jetson will be, by graduation time, well fitted to command men," Dave answered, "is not a question that this class is called upon to pass on. That question rests with the faculty of the Naval Academy. I am trying to get you to look at this matter only from the personal and the class point of view. Doubtless you all feel that Mr. Jetson is the victim of an unhappy temper. You would punish this frame of mind. Yet I ask you, bluntly, who among you have ever tried to aid Mr. Jetson in overcoming his own peculiar style of temper? If there is one among you who has made such attempt at aid, I ask that gentleman to stand until he can be recognized."

Dave made a pause, glancing around him, but no midshipman rose.

"Now, sir," continued Dave Darrin, "if we, as a class, take hasty and unwise action, it is quite possible that we may be depriving the United States Navy of a future officer who would be most valuable to his country in time of need. Have we the right to punish when we are forced to admit that none of us has ever attempted to help Mr. Jetson to escape from the fruits of his temperament? Mr. President, how would you attempt to extinguish a fire? By fanning it? Yet, when a member of this class is smouldering in his own wrath, it is proposed to meet his sullenness by casting him out of our friendship. Do we not owe some duty to our country in this matter? Mr. Jetson is one of our capable students in this brigade, and if he be given a fair chance to graduate, he is likely to become a Naval officer of merit. Do we desire to take upon ourselves the probable smothering of such a Naval career? Mr. President, and you, gentlemen of the second class, I trust sincerely that the motion of Coventry in this case will not prevail. I feel, as I believe many of you now present feel, that we should be taking too much upon ourselves, and that we should be making a grave mistake. If the motion now before the class should be defeated, I shall then be delighted to second any other motion that has for its object the finding of some way to make Mr. Jetson feel more fully that he is one of us, that he has our full sympathy, and that we hope to see him mould his character into a form that will enable him to become a credit to the United States Navy."

As Darrin sat down there was a ripple of applause. There were many present, however, who took a sterner view of the affair. These wanted to see Jetson, and all others who might similarly offend the brigade, forced to quit the Naval service.

"Question! question!" called a score of voices at once.

"Any further remarks?" inquired the class president, glancing about.

"Mr. President!"

"Mr. Jerould."

"Mr. President," said Midshipman Jerould, "I am certain that we all appreciate the remarks of Mr. Darrin. The remarks were prompted by a generous heart, and we respect Mr. Darrin and his motives alike. But I am certain, sir, that the majority of us feel that this is an ugly business and that only stern treatment can meet the situation. I therefore trust that the motion will be at once put and passed." (Loud cries of "hear! hear!")

"Any further—"

"Mr. President!"

"Mr. Darrin."

"Mr. President, I wish I could throw my whole being and soul into this problem, in order to make it clearer, as I see it. I would even appeal, as a favor, to the class to quash this Coventry resolution, and perhaps I might be considered to have some right to ask the favor, since the whole trouble grew out of an affair between Mr. Jetson and myself. I beg of you all, classmates, to quash the motion now before the class."

"No, no, no!" came the hearty response.

"Then, Mr. President and gentlemen," went on Dave Darrin in a voice slow and grave, "speaking for myself, as an individual member, I beg to state that I cannot respect a Coventry ordered under such circumstances. In this matter I would find myself unable to respect the mandates of the class. Therefore. I beg you to send me to Coventry with Mr. Jetson!"

Blank astonishment fell over the second class. Utter indignation seized some of the midshipmen. In another moment the feeling boiled up so that a few hisses rose.

Dave Darrin was pallid, but he had no desire to recede. He had acted according to the dictates of his conscience and he had kept his word.

In that pained instant Midshipman Farley sought to save the situation. He leaped to his feet, shouting:

"Mr. President, I move that this meeting adjourn!"

"Second the motion," called Page promptly, and now there was uproar on all sides.



CHAPTER XIX

DAVE STANDS ON PRINCIPLE

A motion to adjourn being always "in order," the class president put it.

"Aye!" came a thundering response.

"Contrary minded?"

"No."

The ayes appeared to have it, but the chair called for a showing of hands. Then the chair declared the class meeting adjourned.

"Hustle along with us, Darry. I want to talk with you!" sputtered Farley. He thrust an arm inside of Dave's and carried him along, Dalzell and Page following. Straight to Darrin's quarters they went.

"Now, then," demanded Farley, almost savagely, "what's the meaning of the very remarkable exhibition that you gave the class?"

"How was it remarkable?" questioned Dave.

"In your asking the class to send you to Coventry along with Jetson."

"It wasn't just to Jetson, just because he made a slip, that he should be shunned by the whole class."

"Couldn't the class decide that better than one man?" insisted Farley, his eyes gleaming.

"Without a doubt," Dave admitted. "I didn't attempt to do the deciding for the class. All I did was to try to throw my personal weight against it."

"And you compelled the class to adjourn without attending to Jetson's case."

"You're wrong, there, Farl"

"Didn't you?"

"I certainly didn't."

"Darry, you knew the class wouldn't vote to send you to Coventry just because you had ventured to give your opinion. Now, the only way the class could escape from the consequences of your action was to adjourn without action on Jetson."

"It was you, Farl, who moved to adjourn."

"Just to save a lot of hot-bloods from jumping on you, Darry. They'd have done it in another minute. The motion to adjourn was the only thing we could do."

"That's just it," nodded Midshipman Page.

"But there'll have to be another meeting called right away," Farley went on. "The brigade will expect it—will have a right to demand it. A member of our class has insulted the whole brigade, and under our old traditions only the second class can administer discipline."

"Well, then," pursued Darrin calmly, "when the new meeting is held Jetson and myself can be punished, if that be the wish of the entire class."

"Darry," stormed Farley, "you've simply got to withdraw your fool remarks when the class comes together again."

"Do you expect that I'll do that?" Dave inquired.

"If you don't," retorted Farley warmly, "you won't be worth the further concern of your friends. What do you say, Danny boy?"

"From what I know of Dave Darrin," replied Dalzell, "the class will be wasting its time if it expects Darry to retract."

"But what do you want to be sent to Coventry for?" demanded Farley.

"I don't," Dave answered. "I know how it hurts. I wouldn't see any midshipman here sent to Coventry for anything except positive and undeniable dishonor. Jetson hasn't been guilty of anything worse than a mean, quick temper and a fit of sulks afterwards. That's why, with my experience here at Annapolis, if Jetson is to be sent to Coventry, I decline to be bound by the class action."

"But you can't refuse to be bound by class action," retorted Farley aghast.

"Try me and see," smiled Dave stubbornly.

"Don't be an idiot, Darry!"

"It would be a contemptible thing," Dave went on, as calmly as before. "Coventry would mean the chasing of Jetson out of the brigade. You would ruin a man for a defect of temper that some of you others don't possess in quite the same degree. Is it fair to ruin any man because he has the misfortune to have a fit of sulks? That's why I won't heed the class action if it cuts Jetson. I'll bow to him whenever I meet him. I'll talk to him if he'll let me."

"But he won't," insisted Farley triumphantly. "No such sulky fellow as Jetson will let you make up to him."

"If he refuses," Dave contended, "then I can't help it. But I won't be a party to ruining the man. It would be far more to the purpose if the fellows would help the fellow to see that his sulkiness is his worst barrier here. Then a good student and naturally honorable fellow would develop into a capable Naval officer.

"That's the kind of talk for the padre" (chaplain), sniffed Farley.

"Glad you mentioned the padre," Dave retorted. "He's just the man to settle the case. Farley, I'll go with you to the padre at any time. You state one side of the case, and I'll state the other. If the padre doesn't back me, then I'll retract all I've said in open class meeting, and abide by whatever action the class may take."

"Oh, bother the padre!" snorted Farley angrily.

"All right, then," answered Dave good-humoredly. "If the class has a matter of ethics and morals that it doesn't dare submit to an expert in morals, then the class action is weak and wrong."

"There's no use talking to you, I'm afraid," sighed Farley ruefully. "But if you—"

Here the call to study interrupted further discussion. Farley, shaking his head gravely, left the room, followed by Page, who was shaking his head with equal force.

"If you think you're all right, David, little giant, go ahead," remarked Dalzell as he passed to his study desk.

"I think I'm right," Dave answered. "If not, I can be made to see the light. I don't claim to know everything, but what I've done I did in an effort to see and do the right thing."

When release from study came Dalzell expected to see several members of the class drop in. To his astonishment the minutes sped by without any knock at the door.

"You've gotten yourself in badly, Dave," Dan remarked at last. "The fellows don't even think it worth while to come here and remonstrate with you."

"For which I'm thankful," Darrin smiled. "Danny boy, I'm going to bed without waiting for taps."

By morning the news of Dave's action at the class meeting was known throughout the brigade. As he strolled about for a few minutes, after breakfast, while Dan went back to his room to do some hurried study, Darrin noted that many once friendly faces were turned away from him.

"Good morning, Hepson," was Dave's greeting as his friend went by.

"Good morning," muttered Hepson, and was gone.

"Good morning, Watson," said Dave to one of his own classmates.

"'Morning,' replied that midshipman briefly, and turned away. Joyce, Page and several other second classmen were standing in a group when Dave strolled in their direction.

"Good morning, fellows," from Dave. Joyce and Page answered; some of the others merely nodded coldly. Presently all had strolled away except Joyce and Page.

"You see how it is, Darry," murmured Joyce. "You've hurt the fellows."

"Are they going to cut me after this?" Dave asked. His smile was friendly, though the look in his eyes was cool.

"No-o-o," hesitated Midshipman Joyce. "I don't believe the fellows will exactly cut you; at least, not unless the situation grows more acute. But many of the fellows are sore on you for your words last night."

"My words were only my words. My opinion doesn't have to govern anyone else, Joyce."

"But, hang it, Darry, the class doesn't want to cut you out! Can't you get that through your head?"

"The class doesn't have to cut me."

"But it will, if it puts Jetson in Coventry and you break the Coventry. That's what the fellows hate to do to you, and that's why they're all so sore at you."

"I see," nodded Dave.

"Come, now, Darry, you're going to be reasonable, aren't you?" begged Joyce. "Don't break your friends all up with your stubbornness."

"I note that two of the fellows are talking with Jetson," continued Dave, letting his glance wander to another group.

"They have a right to," contended Joyce. "The class hasn't yet committed itself as to Jetson."

"Darry, if you don't look out," warned Page, "you'll precipitate matters. You may bring the storm down on Jetson if you test the temper and stubbornness of an offended class."

"I see that I was wrong in at least one particular," nodded Dave thoughtfully. "I shouldn't have made any remark about my intentions. I should have confined myself to a plea for Jetson. Then, if the class had gone against my view I could have ignored the class action and have taken the consequences just the same."

"Oh, hang you!" cried Page impulsively.

"Barry," begged Midshipman Joyce, resting a hand on his friend's arm, "don't do any more talking about this. Just let things quiet down."

"I'm perfectly willing to stop talking about it," agreed Dave. "In fact, since the class adjourned its meeting I haven't said a word on the subject except in answer to some other fellow's remarks."

Page and Joyce strolled away, leaving Dave by himself to think matters over. As it happened, the two second classmen with whom Jetson had been talking had now left the sulky midshipman, who, at this moment, was coming down the walk in Dave's direction.

"Good morning, Jetson," nodded Dave pleasantly, though not too cordially.

Midshipman Jetson paused a moment, looked Darrin full in the eyes, and then passed on.

"Not promising material to work with, at first," Dave told himself, laughingly.

There was no time for further thought, for it was within two or three minutes for the first formation for morning recitations. Dave ran back to his room, picked up a book and a writing pad.

"How have the fellows been treating you, chum?" asked Dalzell, looking up anxiously.

"To a most liberal dose of advice," laughed Darrin.

Dan sighed.

"Do you wish I'd take some of the advice, old fellow?"

"I don't know that I do," Dan answered slowly and with unwonted gravity for him. "I'm not one of the padre's star young men, and I don't often discourse on morality. Yet I'm inclined to believe that, when a fellow goes contrary to the spirit of the crowd, and is satisfied that he is doing so from generous and manly motives, he is pretty likely to be pursuing the right course. After a fellow has made a real effort to listen to his conscience, I don't believe he is ever wrong in following it."

"Thank you, Danny boy. That's always been the way it has struck me. I don't want to do any injustice to Jetson—or to the class, either."

"If you have to go to Coventry," announced Dalzell, giving a final brushing to his hair and fitting on his cap, "I'm going with you."

"But you don't have to, Dan! A fellow's roommate doesn't have to observe a Coventry."

"If it comes to Coventry," muttered Dalzell, "I shall invite it by speaking to Jetson, too."

Dave Darrin was aghast. He hadn't contemplated dragging Dan into such a scrape.

"There's formation now," announced Dan.

Out in front of the entrance, and along the terrace the many sections were falling in. Dan had occasion to pass the now very unpopular Jetson.

"Good morning, Jetson," was Dan's greeting.

Jetson started slightly, then replied, with a sulky frown:

"Good morning, Dalzell."

"Glad he'll speak to me," thought Dan with an inward grimace, "for I'm afraid that, before long, I'll be in the way of feeling mighty lonely a good deal of the time."

In another moment or two the sections were marching away, with the steady, rhythmic, tread peculiar to bodies of military in motion.

"I wonder how it is all going to come out?" sighed Dan, as he seated himself at his desk in the section room in the Academic Building.

"I wonder what sort of crazy or calculating grandstand play Darrin is trying to make just now?" pondered Midshipman Jetson, when informed of Dave's action at the meeting.



CHAPTER XX

"DON'T BE A FOOL, DARRY!"

A week went by without another class meeting.

For that reason Midshipman Jetson was still nominally in good fellowship.

The delay in action was by no means due to lack of class interest. The class seethed with interest in the affair, but with many of the midshipmen there was a belief that here was a case where slow and thoughtful consideration would be best for all concerned.

Darry was too good a fellow, and far too popular to be forced out of fellowship if it didn't have to be done to preserve the present feeling of ruffled class dignity.

Knowing that the matter hadn't been dropped, the first and third classes waited—in curiosity. The fourth class really had no standing in such weighty matters of the internal discipline of the brigade.

Every time that Dave Darrin passed Jetson he spoke pleasantly to the latter. The sulky one, however, did not respond.

"Some day, Darry, you'll tumble that you've been played for a fool," grumbled Farley.

"Then I'll have the satisfaction, won't I, of knowing that it's all my own fault?" smiled Dave Darrin.

"Yes; but I hate to see you go to pieces for a fellow like Jetson."

The following Saturday afternoon Darrin came in from a brisk walk, to find Dan poring over his books at the study desk.

"Letter there for you," said Dan, without looking up, as Dave, after glancing into the room, had turned with the intention of calling on Farley and Page.

"Thank you." Darrin crossed the room, picking up the letter. "From Belle," he remarked. "The second from her this week, and I haven't written her. Answering letters should be part of a man's honor, so instead of cruising about on the deck, I reckon I'd better sit down and write Belle."

"What are you going to tell her?" asked Dan quietly, without looking up.

"Hang it all!" grumbled Dave. "This is where the situation begins to be tough. Of course you understand how things are, Danny boy, and you are aware that I have asked Belle to take upon herself the right to be equally interested with me in my career."

"It is tough," assented Dan, with ready sympathy, and laying aside his book for the moment. "If my memory serves, Belle asked particularly, when she was here, that you let her know how the Jetson row turned out."

"Yes; she did."

"And now you've got to tell her—what?"

"Have I got to tell her?" wondered Darrin aloud. "Yes; any other course would be unfair. But another question is, have I a right to tell her just what took place in a class meeting?"

"I think so," spoke up Dalzell. "Of course, you needn't attempt to report the speeches, or anything like that, but it's rather clear to me that you have a right to tell Belle the exact news so far as it affects you—and therefore her."

"Thank you." Dave drew out stationery, picked up a pen and began to write. Dalzell returned to his text-book. When Dave had written the letter, he read to Dan the portion that related to a description of the Jetson matter before the class.

"I think it's all right to send that much of a statement," nodded Dan.

"Then I'm going to mail the letter at once, and it will go out to-night. Belle tells me that she is extremely anxious to know the outcome of the matter. Poor girl, I'm afraid my letter may be even worse than no news."

"Belle didn't betroth herself to the uniform or the Navy, if I know her," returned Dan quietly.

Dave went out and mailed the letter. It would not reach Belle until Monday morning. Wednesday afternoon, on returning from the last recitation, Dave found her answer on his study table.

"Want to hear a part of it, Dan?" questioned Midshipman Darrin.

"Of course I do," admitted that young man.

"Listen, then," and Dave read from Belle's letter as follows:

"'I won't attempt to say that I am not in the least worried or bothered over the turn the Jetson matter has taken,'" ran Belle's letter. "'I can't help feeling vitally interested in anything that concerns you. But you tell me that you have followed your own sense of honor and your own conscience in the matter. The best man that ever lived couldn't do better than that. I hope—oh, I do hope—that the whole affair will turn out in some way that will not be disagreeable to you. But remember, Dave, that the lightheaded little High School girl who plighted her faith to you is interested in you—not particularly in a future Naval officer, necessarily. If the affair should go to the worst ending, and you find it advisable to resign from the Naval Academy on account of any class feeling, there are plenty of bright prospects in life for an honorable and capable man. Don't ever imagine that I shall be disappointed over anything that you do, as long as you remain true to yourself and your manhood. And I will add, if you care to know it, that I approve of what you have done and am proud of you for your grit to do the right thing,'"

"A great girl!" cried Dan admiringly. "Just the kind of girl, too, that I was sure she is."

"Just the same," commented Dave musingly, "I know quite well that Belle has set her heart on seeing me serve in the Navy with credit."

"She wanted that because she knew you wanted it," Dan assured him.

Darrin was in the middle of his week's studies, where every minute's work counted, but he took the time to write an intense, if short, answer to Belle's letter. That finished, and dropped in the mail-box, he went back to his room and began to study.

Rap-tap! Farley slipped into the room.

"Thought I'd better come right away, Darry," explained the caller. "The news won't keep. A class meeting is called for Friday night right after supper. You know what that means, don't you?"

"Yes," Dave answered steadily.

"Old fellow, we all hope to see you come back to yourself at the meeting," went on Farley earnestly, resting a hand on Dave's blue sleeve.

"Meaning that I should desert my convictions and bow to the class?"

"Yes; if you put it that way. Darry, old friend, don't feel that you know more than the entire brigade."

"I don't," Dave answered.

"Then you'll drop the line of talk you started the other night?"

"No."

"Darry, old friend!"

"I haven't changed my mind. Then, if I changed my attitude, wouldn't I be acting a false part?"

"Don't be, a prig, Darry!"

"Be a knave instead, eh?"

"Darry, you ought to have been born a Puritan!"

"I'm glad I wasn't," Dave smiled.

"And are you enjoying yourself?"

"No," Dave answered seriously. "I'm not. Neither is Jetson. It is likely that the class may do a great injustice to us both."

"Why are you so struck on a fellow like Jetson?" pursued the other midshipman.

"I'm not," Dave rejoined. "But I think, if he could be awakened, he has qualities that would make us all like him."

"And you're going to throw yourself away on such thankless missionary work, Darry?"

"Not at all. I'm acting on my best lights, as I see them for myself."

"I'm sorry," sighed Farley honestly.

"And so am I. Don't believe that I enjoy the situation that has been created."

"That you've created for yourself, you mean!"

"I see that you can't or you won't, understand it, Farley."

"I wish I could understand it!" quivered Farley, who felt far more unhappy than he was willing that Dave should see. In the end, Farley returned to his own room, pondering deeply and trying to think out some plan of speech or of action that would save Midshipman Dave Darrin from the class anger that seemed certain to come.

After supper and just before study time was due, Dave went to Jetson's door and knocked. As he entered he found Warner, the other midshipman quartered there, as well as Jetson.

"Good evening, gentlemen," began Dave, after he had stepped into the room and closed the door.

"Good evening, Darrin," responded Warner, while Jetson merely scowled and picked up a book.

"Warner," went on Dave, "I came here to have a brief talk with Mr. Jetson. Would it be asking too much to ask you to step outside—unless Mr. Jetson feels that he would prefer that you remain?"

"Mr. Jetson prefers that Mr. Warner remain, and that Mr. Darrin take himself away with great expedition," broke in Jetson decisively.

But Warner thought differently, and, with a murmured "certainly, Darrin," he left the room.

"I won't ask you to take a seat, Mr. Darrin," said Jetson, "because I'll be candid enough to say that I hope you won't remain long."

"I don't need a seat," laughed Dave easily, "for I've heard that the best Americans transact their business on their feet. Mr. Jetson, I've come on a somewhat embarrassing mission."

"Yes?"—sneeringly.

"You know quite well the snarl that is to be untied before the class meeting Friday evening."

"Quite well," replied Jetson sulkily. "It is a situation that I owe to the fact of having been acquainted with yourself, Mr. Darrin."

"Jetson," resumed Dave, dropping the formal "Mr.", "the situation is one that menaces you and your standing here. It menaces me equally. I could get myself out of the scrape quite easily by withdrawing from the stand that I took the other night."

"I either fail or refuse to understand why you went to the risk that you did the other night, Mr. Darrin."

"If I were to retract what I said," Darrin added, "it would cause me to violate whatever respect I may have for right and justice. On the other hand, Jetson, surely you do not consider yourself right in refusing an apology for a remark in which you thoughtlessly cast an unjust reflection upon the whole body of midshipmen."

"To what is this leading, Mr. Darrin?"

"Jetson, your own sense of honor and justice surely tells you that you owe it to yourself to go before the meeting Friday evening—"

"I shall not attend, Mr. Darrin. The class may take whatever action it chooses in my absence."

"Jetson, you owe it to yourself, as well as to the class, to offer your apology for a remark that reflected upon the whole brigade. You can violate no feeling of honor or proper pride by such an apology. In fact, I do not see how you can justify yourself in withholding such apology for having expressed a sentiment which you know you did not mean in the way that the brigade has taken it."

"My feelings on questions of honor cannot possibly concern you, Mr. Darrin."

"On the contrary, your conduct does vitally concern me, Jetson. If you do not make your apology the class will—well, you know what will happen."

"Yes, I know," Jetson assented, his brow darkening.

"And possibly you know what it means to me. By my own statement—and I cannot, in honor retract it, I shall be compelled to share Coventry with you."

"No, you won't sir!" retorted Jetson, rising, his face ablaze with sulky anger. "You may go to Coventry, Mr. Darrin, and welcome, but you shall not share mine with me. You shall not share anything whatever with me—not even the air of this room if I can prevail upon you to take yourself out of a room where you are not wanted. Mr. Darrin, I indulge myself in the honor of wishing you—good evening!"

Jetson crossed the room, threw open the door and bowed low. Flushing, breathing quickly, Dave Darrin stepped out into the corridor and the door closed smartly behind him.



CHAPTER XXI

MIDSHIPMAN JETSON HAS THE FLOOR

It was Friday afternoon, and the last sections had been dismissed in front of Bancroft Hall. The balance of the afternoon belonged to the midshipmen, though most of them found it necessary to give the time to study.

Jetson was not one of the latter. Always well up in his studies, he had no occasion to worry about daily markings or semi-annual examinations.

He had not grown less sulky, but he found himself a victim of unusual restlessness. So he decided upon remaining out in the open air for the present.

Though actuated by a very different class of feelings, Darrin, also, felt disinclined for books. He tried to study, for a few minutes, but gave it up and caught up his cap. The winter day being mild, he did not trouble himself to don his uniform overcoat.

"Going to slip your cable?" inquired Dan, who was moored fast to a text-book.

"Yes; I feel the need of fresh air."

"Shove off, then!"

Dave went out quietly, Dan gazing curiously after his friend until the door had closed behind him.

"Poor chap," muttered Dan. "I reckon he has need enough of something to stop that restless feeling. The class meets to-night!"

Jetson, after some fifteen minutes of aimless wandering, felt himself attracted to the gymnasium. Going inside, he went to his locker, where, with feverish energy, he changed to gym costume.

For a few minutes the sulky one performed on the flying rings. He was an adept at this work, and something in the rapid motion soothed his troubled mind.

Tiring of the rings at last, Jetson stood with folded arms, looking about him, until his eyes lighted with interest on the trapezes. One was up higher than the rest. Drawn toward this one, Jetson took hold of the climbing rope and drew himself up, hand over hand. Seating himself on the bar, he sat looking about at the few other midshipmen who were exercising at that hour.

"There comes that Darrin fellow," thought Jetson, with a sudden burst of rage. "Wonder if he's going to work this afternoon? If he does, I'll put it all over him, even if I break my neck in the trying."

Back and forth swung Jetson, getting up speed on the trapeze. Then, suddenly, he threw his head downward, hanging on by his knees. An intentional slip, and he hung fully downward his ankles holding at the ends of the crossbar.

Folding his arms, Jetson again began to swing as he hung head downward. Among the midshipmen there were not so very many who were skillful at this form of exercise. Jetson was, and he was secretly proud of it.

"This will put the fellow Darrin to the bad if he came in with any notion of showing off," thought the sulky one exultantly.

Now the other midshipmen turned to leave the gym. In a moment more the only two left were Darrin and the man on the trapeze. In addition to the midshipmen there were two gym. attendants at some little distance.

"Who's doing that fine work?" wondered Dave, stepping closer. "Why, it's Jetson! Well, he has one accomplishment that I really envy him!"

Midshipman Jetson was now going through some rapid evolutions, first hanging head downward, and then, after developing speed, raising himself and turning over the crossbar. It was really work of which any athlete might have been proud.

"Say, Jim," muttered one attendant to the other, "that middie has me nervous for fair."

"Forget it," advised the other attendant, "It's the middie's neck, not yours."

"But we took the net down that goes with that bar. Suppose the young man should fall. He'd break his neck, and what could we say with the net gone?"

"He's no business up there at this late hour in the afternoon," grumbled the other man.

"That talk won't save us, either, if anything happens."

Jetson, filled with the desire to show off before the comrade he hated, had increased the speed of his brilliant flying movements.

But suddenly he slipped. There was no regaining his grip. With a howl of fright he felt himself plunging head downward more than thirty feet to the hard floor of the gym. He was in a fair way of landing on his head, cracking his skull and breaking his neck. Worse, in his sudden dread, he seemed to have lost control of his muscles.

"Turn! Land on your feet!" called Dave.

It all happened in a second. Dave, brief as the instant was, realized that the other midshipman was not going to land on his feet. In the same fleeting moment that Darrin called he hurled himself into position.

Straight down shot Jetson. Dave waited, with outstretched arms, ready to risk his own neck in the effort to save his sulky comrade.

From their end of the gym. the two startled attendants had watched the impending disaster, but there was no time for them to do anything.

From the way that Jetson fell it looked as though he had made a straight dive for Dave Darrin's head. At all events, their heads met in sharp collision.

Down went Dave, as though shot, and Jetson went with him, but Darrin's outstretched arms had grasped the other's body, and Jetson was saved the worst of his fall.

Now the two midshipmen lay where they had fallen, Jetson lying somewhat across Dave's motionless body.

"They're killed!" yelled the attendant Jim hoarsely.

"We'll look 'em over first, before we give up," retorted the other attendant, stooping and gently rolling Jetson over on his back.

"Sure they're killed, Bob," protested Jim huskily. "They met head on. You'll find that both middies have their skulls broken."

"Bring two pails of water, you chump," ordered Bob. "I tell you, we won't raise a row until we've done the best we can for 'em."



The water was brought. Under liberal dashes of it over his face and neck Jetson soon opened his eyes.

"I—I had a bad fall, didn't I?" he asked of the man nearest him.

"You'd have broken your neck, sir, if Mr. Darrin hadn't jumped forward and broken the force of your fall."

"I'd rather any other man had saved me," muttered the sullen one, slowly aiding himself to sit up. "How did Mr. Darrin do it?"

"Well, sir," responded Bob, "he stopped you partly with his head, and it would have been broken, only he had his hands out and gripped you at the shoulders or trunk. It may be that his head was split as it was, but I hardly think so."

Two more liberal douses of water, and Dave, too, opened his eyes.

"Is Jetson all right?" was Darrin's first question.

"Yes," muttered Midshipman Jetson, "and thanks to you, as I understand it."

"Oh, if you're all right, then I'm glad," responded Dave. "Bob, have you time to help me to stand up?"

"How do you feel, sir?" asked Bob, after he had complied and stood supporting Midshipman Darrin on his feet.

"Just a bit dizzy, Bob; but that'll pass off in a moment. Jetson, I'm glad to see you alive. Not badly jolted, I hope?"

Jim was now aiding Jetson to his feet.

"Do you want a surgeon, either of you?" asked Bob.

Both midshipmen shook their heads.

"I think I'll go over to one of the side seats," remarked Darrin, and Bob piloted him there, while Jim aided Jetson out to the shower room and locker.

Dave Darrin soon conquered the dizzy feeling enough to stand up and walk without assistance.

"I think I'll go, now," he told Bob. "I don't believe there is anything that I can do for Mr. Jetson."

"There is, sir, if you don't mind," interposed Jim, striding up. "Mr. Jetson has just asked if you mind waiting for him."

"My compliments to Mr. Jetson, and I shall be glad to wait for him."

The sulky midshipman soon hove in sight, having donned his uniform. He came up to Dave looking decidedly embarrassed.

"Mr. Darrin, I fear I must thank you for having stopped my course to the floor," admitted Jetson, with a sheepish grin.

"I won't make it too hard to thank me," replied Dave, with a smile. "I'll just say that you're wholly welcome."

"But if you hadn't caught me in just the way that you did, your skull would have been smashed by the impact with my head. You risked your life for me, Mr. Darrin."

"I didn't stop to think of that, at the time. At any rate, risking one's life goes with the Naval service, doesn't it?"

"It was a splendid thing for you to do, Mr. Darrin! May I walk along with you?"

Dave nodded. It was dark, now, and that portion of the yard appeared clear of any moving beings but themselves.

"Darrin," continued Jetson, "when you risked Coventry in the effort to save me from it, I thought you were posing, though for the life of me I couldn't fathom your motive. But the risk that you took this afternoon wasn't in the line of posing. Do you mind telling me why you did it?"

"I'd have done as much for any man in the brigade," Dave answered frankly.

"Just the same it has touched me—touched me deeply."

"I'm glad of that, Jetson," Dave answered heartily. "And now I hope that we can bury the hatchet and be friends, as men in the brigade should always be."

"But why do you want to be friends with a fellow like me?"

"Because I want to know the real Jetson—not the one that you present outside of a sulky exterior. Jetson, I know there's gold in you, and I want to see it brought to the surface. I want your friendship because—well, it may be a selfish reason, but I think it's worth having."

"That's a funny notion to take," laughed Midshipman Jetson uneasily. "I have never been conceited enough to fancy that my friendship was worth having."

"Let yourself out and be natural, man!"

"How?"

Then indeed did Dave Darrin plunge into his subject. There was a lot to be said, but Dave said it briefly, tersely, candidly. Jetson listened with a flushing face, it is true, but at last he stopped and held out his hand.

"Will you take it, Darrin?"

"With all my heart!"

There was chance for but little more talk, as now the slowly moving midshipmen were close to the entrance to Bancroft Hall.

"You'll be at the class meeting this evening, won't you?" asked Dave Darrin.

"You may be very sure that I shall!"

Then they entered the lobby of Bancroft Hall, parting and going their different ways.

In Darrin's eyes there was a strange flash as he turned down the "deck" on which he lived. But Dan, still absorbed in study, did not pay especial heed to his roommate.

Immediately after supper in the mess-hall, Dalzell caught his chum's arm.

"Let's get in early at the meeting, David, little giant. I'm afraid there's big trouble brewing, and we must both be on hand early. We may have some chance to talk a bit before the meeting is called to order."

"I don't believe I shall care to talk any, Danny boy, before the president raps."

"Don't be too stubborn, Davy! Your future will very likely be at stake to-night. Your most dependable friends will be on hand and under arms for you. Back 'em up!"

At least half of the class was gathered when the chums entered. Darrin looked about him, then took a seat. He watched the door until he saw Midshipman Jetson enter.

Rap, rap, rap! went the gavel at last.

"Gentlemen," announced the president, "there is some unfinished business before the meeting. At the last class meeting a motion was made and seconded that Midshipman Jetson be sent to Coventry. Any remarks that may be offered on that resolution will be in order now."

Dave Darrin was on his feet in an instant. Three or four men hissed, but Dave appeared not to notice.

"Mr. President," Dave began in a slow, steady voice, "this motion more closely affects Mr. Jetson than it does any other member of the class. I understand that Mr. Jetson has a few remarks to make."

There was a murmur that ran around the room as Jetson rose to his feet, claiming the chair's recognition.

"Mr. President and gentlemen," began Jetson, his face pale and his words coming with effort, "I am not going to discuss the question of whether the class will or will not be justified in sending me to Coventry. I have a duty to perform to-night, and I assure you that it comes hard, for my temper and pride have been beyond my control for a long time. I wish to make a most earnest apology for remarks of mine that were construed as being insulting to the members of the brigade. I further desire to make any statement, or any admission that will most quickly banish any sense of wrong coming from me. In doing so, I am moved to this proper course by my friend, Mr. Darrin!"



CHAPTER XXII

THE BIRTH OF A GENTLEMAN

It wasn't a real bombshell that hit the class, of course, but the effect was almost as startling. First, there were murmurs, then a hubbub of voices, last of all a rousing cheer.

In the midst of the excitement Midshipman Farley leaped to his feet.

"Mr. President!" he bellowed.

But his voice did not carry ten feet from where he stood.

"Mr. President!" he yelled, louder than ever before.

Still the hubbub continued. Farley leaped to the seat of his chair, turning and waving both arms frantically. Any midshipman who had glanced toward the chair would have discovered that the occupant of the class chair was rapping hard with his gavel, though no sound of it was heard above the tumult.

Presently, however, Farley's antics produced their effect. The noise gradually lessened.

"Mr. President!" essayed Farley once more.

"Mr. Farley has the floor!" shouted the class president hoarsely.

"Mr. President," went on Farley, at the top of his voice, "class honor and that of the brigade have been satisfied by the direct, manly statement of Mr. Jetson. I move you, sir, that the motion now before this body be tabled, all further action dropped and the class meeting adjourned subject to call."

"Second the motion!" yelled Page.

"The motion to adjourn must follow the disposal of the first part of the motion," ruled the chair.

"I accept the amendment," called Farley.

"I, also," assented Page.

"Question! question!"

"Before putting the motion," continued the chair, "I desire to ask Mr. Jetson if he has fully considered his statement and the revised position that he has taken? Since the matter affects the entire brigade, and not this single class, I feel that there should be no doubt, or any question to be raised later."

"Mr. President," announced Jetson, when he had secured recognition, "I have retracted any offensive words that I may have uttered. I have attempted no justification of any of my words, but have made flat apology."

"Three cheers for Jet!" shouted one impulsive midshipman.

"Any remarks?" questioned the chair.

"Mr. President!"

"Mr. Darrin."

"I do not see how Mr. Jetson's retraction or apology could be made any more explicit. I trust to see Mr. Farley's motion, seconded by Mr. Page, put to the vote and carried at once. I am wholly aware that I have incurred the class's displeasure (cries of 'no! no!') but I urge that whatever action may be taken regarding myself be deferred until after Mr. Jetson has been restored to the fullest measure of class and brigade fellowship."

"Any further remarks?" questioned the class president, when Darrin had seated himself. "If not, I will state the motion."

A few "nays" succeeded the great chorus of "ayes," and the motion of Coventry for Jetson was declared tabled.

"Any further action?" demanded the chair.

"Move we adjourn!" called Farley.

"Second the motion!" seconded Page.

The motion was put and carried without dissent Then, amid the greatest jollity, the meeting was declared adjourned.

There was a rush of at least twenty men to shake hands with Jetson, who, with flushed but pleased face, bore his honors as modestly as he could.

"What on earth came over you, Jet?" demanded Joyce bluntly.

"It would be a long story about Darrin," replied Midshipman Jetson. "He had the grace to show me that I was a constitutional ass, with perhaps some slight chance of being reborn. To make it short, Darrin persuaded me to come before the class, eat humble pie and set myself right with myself, even if I couldn't with the class."

"It was beautifully done, Jet," murmured Page, who was tremendously grateful at seeing Dave Darrin rescued from sacrificing himself to a principle.

"If any of you fellows catch me in the sulks hereafter," spoke up Jetson, though he winced as he said it, "I hope the man who catches me will do me the very great favor of passing me a few sound kicks before others have a chance to catch me to the bad."

"Bully for you—you're all right, Jet!" called several warmly.

Fully half of the class members had left the room by this time. Dan Dalzell, who had been thunderstruck, and who was now full of questions, was being urged out of the room by Dave.

"So Darry converted you, did he?" laughed Joyce. "Bully for Darry. Why, that great and good fellow dared the class to send him to Coventry after it got through with you. He accused the class of kicking a man without giving that man a chance to get up on his feet."

"It's a good deal like Darrin," remarked Jetson, his eyes a trifle misty, "though it took me a thundering long time to realize that Darrin was really of that kind."

"How did it happen, any way?" insisted Farley.

"You've heard nothing about it?"

"Not a word—not a hint," protested Page eagerly.

There were less than twenty of the midshipmen now remaining in the room, so Jetson did not feel as embarrassed as he might have done had he been called upon to give the recital before a class meeting. He told his listeners the story of Dave's splendid conduct in the gym. that afternoon, and of the talk that had followed the reconciliation of the enemies.

"That was like good old Darry again," remarked Farley proudly. "No fellow has a warmer temper than Darry when he's aroused to righteous anger, but no fellow has a more generous temper at all times."

"Let's go down and jump in on Darry, all hands!" proposed Joyce.

"Listen!" warned Farley.

Study call! That took the young men hastily to their regular academic duties.

"One thing this business has done," remarked Midshipman Farley, looking up from his books.

"I'll be the goat," murmured Page.

"Darry has always been somewhat the leader of the class, ever since the fellows began to find him out, back in the first year here. But this last business has boosted Dave Darrin unmistakably and solidly now into the post of leader of the class."

"We're safe, then!" retorted Page. "Darry won't lead us into any trouble!"

The realization that Midshipman Dave Darrin was assured leader of the second class was not long in coming to most of the other men of the class.

Yet Dave did not seek the post, nor did he attempt to do any actual leading. He still considered himself as possessing one voice, and one only, in the class councils.

If Dave was leader, Dan Dalzell, both by reflected glory and by virtue of his own sterling merits as well, shared the leadership with Dave to a great extent. Dan's power might have gone further than it did had it not been for the fact that he was so full of mischief as to leave his comrades often in doubt as to whether he were really serious in what he said and did.



CHAPTER XXIII

"BAGGED," AND NO MISTAKE

"Plebes Flint and Austin are having a good many callers," remarked Dave Darrin, halting by the door of quarters before he and Dan entered.

"Sure! Aren't you wise?" inquired Dan, with a wink.

"I think so," murmured Dave. "The callers all seem to be third classmen."

"Of course; they're putting the rookies through their paces."

"Surest thing!" murmured Dalzell without excitement.

"But this is March. Isn't it a rather late time in the year to be still hounding the poor new men?"

"I don't know," mused Dalzell. "It may be that Mr. Flint and Mr. Austin are unusually touge."

"Touge" is Annapolis slang for "fresh." It corresponds closely to the "b j" of West Point.

A sound as of protest came from behind a closed door at the further end of the deck.

"I hope our youngsters aren't going too far," Dave remarked, "youngster" being the accepted term for the third classmen, and the same as "yearling" at West Point.

"Well, it's none of our business," replied Dan, with a shrug of his shoulders. "Study call will be along in fifteen minutes. Going to get an early start with the books to-night?"

"I guess that will be wise," Darrin nodded.

"It surely will."

The rest of the winter had gone along rather uneventfully, save for the inevitable, overpowering amount of grind through which a midshipman must pass. It was now spring, and midshipmen thoughts were divided between two topics—annual exams, and summer cruise.

Dan had started into the room, and Dave was about to follow, when he heard an unusually loud thud at the further end of the deck.

"Danny boy, the plebes must be getting it hard to-night."

"I'd like to see the fun," muttered Dalzell, his eyes snapping with mischief. "But it doesn't seem to be any of our business. Hazing work is left in charge of the youngster crowd."

"Yes; a second classman shouldn't interfere," assented Dave. "Well, study for ours."

"I'm afraid I'm not as studious as I was a minute ago," contended Dan, with a grin.

Dave looked almost startled as he seized his chum by the arm.

"Inside with you, Danny boy!"

"Not under compulsion," laughed Midshipman Dalzell.

"I'll condescend to coaxing, then. But don't anger the youngsters by butting in."

"And why not? An upper classman has a right to step in, if he wishes."

"It is, at least, against the rules of good taste to interfere," argued Darrin.

"Well, hang you, I don't want to interfere. All I want to do is to look on. Can't an upper classman do that?"

"I won't," returned Dave.

Yet almost immediately he changed his mind, for two hard bumps and a gust of laughter swept up the deck.

"They're making so much racket," murmured Dave, lingering by his own door, "that, the first thing we know, a duty officer will swoop down and rag the bunch."

"Let's go in, then, as grave and dignified second classmen, and warn the youngsters like daddies," proposed Dan, but his eyes were twinkling with the spirit of mischief.

A good deal against his own inclination Darrin allowed himself to be coaxed into the thing.

Nine youngsters were found in Midshipmen Flint and Austin's room when Dave and Dan entered after rapping.

"We're not intruding, I hope?" inquired Dalzell, with his most inviting grin.

"Not at all, gentlemen," responded Midshipman Eaton, of the third class.

"These fourth classmen seemed unwontedly popular to-night," insinuated Dan.

"They've been most uncommonly touge all through the year, sir," replied Eaton, tacking on the "sir" in order to impress Midshipmen Flint and Austin with the tremendous dignity or all upper classmen.

"What form does their tougeness take?" Dan wanted to know.

"They have not yet learned the respect that is due to upper classmen, sir."

"And especially to third classmen?" inquired Dan, now without the flicker of a smile.

"They are especially touge, sir, with third classmen."

"And you are showing them the error of their ways?"

"We are trying to do so, sir."

"I thought so, from the noise we heard," pursued Dalzell.

"If you have any better ways, Mr. Dalzell, we shall be glad to profit from your riper experience, sir," suggested Midshipman Eaton.

"No; I've forgotten almost everything that I ever knew in that line," remarked Dan.

"Mr. Darrin, sir?" suggested Eaton, turning to the other second classman present.

"I have nothing to suggest," replied Dave slowly, "unless—" Then he paused.

"Unless—sir?" followed up Midshipman Eaton.

"No; I won't say it. It might give offense," Darrin responded.

"Have no fear of that, Mr. Darrin," urged Eaton.

"All I was going to suggest, Eaton, was that this is the month of March."

"Yes, sir?" inquired Eaton wonderingly.

"When Dalzell and I were fourth classmen we weren't troubled at all by the youngsters after Christmas. Last year, Eaton, our class didn't bother yours at any later date, either."

Some of the youngsters present began to look embarrassed, though Dave's tone had been quiet and free from rebuke.

"But, sir, don't imagine that we're doing anything to the plebes for our own amusement," protested Eaton. "This is the only pair of the fourth class left that need any attention from our class. These two young misters are the tougest lot we've had to deal with. In fact, sir, they're ratey!"

"Still," rejoined Dan Dalzell, "I think you are keeping it up pretty late in the year, even if they are ratey."

A midshipman who is "ratey," as has been explained in an earlier volume, is a much greater offender than a midshipman who is merely touge. For a ratey fourth classman makes the foolish blunder of considering himself as good as an upper classman.

"Of course," suggested Dan, making haste to smooth over any astonishment that his own and his chum's remarks might have caused, "we don't propose to instruct the members of the third class in the way they shall perform their duties toward the members of the fourth. Don't let us interfere with you, Mr. Eaton."

"By no means," murmured Dave Darrin, smiling. "We don't wish to intrude."

"But wait just one moment gentlemen," begged Eaton. "We want you to see for yourselves how effectively we are smoothing the touge creases out of these baby midshipmen."

During the discussion Flint and Austin had been standing at one side of the room, looking decidedly sheepish. Both had their blouses off, though neither had been required to take off his collar. The trousers of the two fourth classmen were rather liberally overlaid with dust, showing that they must have been performing some rough stunts on the floor.

"Step over to that, basin, mister," ordered Youngster Eaton, eyeing Flint, who promptly obeyed.

"Now, mister, stand on your head in that bowl," commanded Midshipman Eaton.

Looking doubly red and uncomfortable, with these two grave-looking second classmen present, Flint bent down, attempting to stand on his head in the bowl of water, while he tried, at the same time to push his feet up the wall, thus standing on his head. Twice Flint essayed the feat and failed, splashing a good deal of water over the floor. Then, for the third time, Flint tried the performance. This time he succeeded, but his two previous failures had provoked such a storm of laughter that no man present heard a cautious rap on the door. The next instant that door was flung open and Lieutenant Preston stepped into the room.

With the entrance of that discipline officer half of the midshipmen present wheeled about, then, startled as they were, did not forget to come to attention.

"Hm!" said Lieutenant Preston, at which the other half heard and came to attention. Flint, whether too scared, or perhaps enjoying the discomfiture of his tormentors, made no effort to return to normal position.

"What's your name, sir?" thundered the discipline officer, glaring fiercely at Midshipman Flint.

"Flint, sir," replied the fourth classman in a gasp.

"Bring your feet down and come to attention, sir!"

Flint obeyed.

During this time Lieutenant Preston had stood so that no midshipman in the room could slip by him into the corridor.