Dave Darrin's Second Year at Annapolis
by
H. Irving Hancock
Part 3 out of 3
"Now, it works out this way," continued the first classman, bending over
the disk and drawing paper and pencil toward him. "In the first place."
Freeman seemed to these youngsters like a born demonstrator. Within five
minutes he had made the "sticky fly paper" problem so plain to them all
that they glanced from one to another in astonishment.
"Why, it does seem easy," confessed Farley.
"It sounds foolish, now," grinned Darrin. "I'm beginning to feel ashamed
of myself."
"Mr. Freeman," protested Page, "you've saved us from suicide, or some
other gruesome fate."
"Then I'll drop in once in a while again," promised the first classman.
"But that will take time from your own studies," remonstrated Darrin
generously.
"Not in the least. I won't come around before release. By the time a
fellow reaches the first class, if he's going to graduate anyway, he
doesn't have to study as hard as a youngster does. The man who reaches
the first class has had all the habits of true study ground into him."
Darrin, Dalzell, Farley and Page were all in different sections in
mathematics. When they recited, next day, it so happened that each was
the man to have the "sticky fly paper" problem assigned to him by the
instructor. Each of the quartette received a full "4" for the day's
marking.
"Did you have any assistance with this problem, Mr. Darrin?" asked
Dave's instructor.
"Yes, sir; a member of the first class tried to make it plain to me last
night."
"He appears to have succeeded," remarked the instructor dryly.
There was, however, no discredit attached to having received proper
assistance before coming into section.
True to his promise Freeman dropped in every fourth or fifth evening, to
see if he could be of any help to the four youngsters. Always he found
that he could be.
Even when Thanksgiving came, Dave Darrin did not go to Philadelphia, but
remained at the Academy, devoting his time to study.
Dan, in sheer desperation, took in the trip to Philadelphia. He hoped
to meet Dick Prescott and Greg Holmes, but they did not come down from
West Point.
On the first day of December, Dan Dalzell's name was formally reported
by the Academic Board in a report to the superintendent which
recommended that Midshipman Dalzell be dropped from the rolls for
"inaptitude in his studies."
Poor Dan. It was a staggering blow. Yet it struck Dave Darrin just about
as hard.
CHAPTER XIV
THE FIRST HOP WITH THE HOME GIRLS
That report was allowed to reach Dan's ears on a Friday.
On the evening of the day following there was to be a midshipman hop on
the floor of the great gym.
Moreover, it was the very hop that Belle Meade and Laura Bentley had
finally selected to attend. Mrs. Meade was coming with the girls as
chaperon.
"Oh, but I shall feel fine and light hearted for going to the dance!"
muttered Dan miserably. "Facing the kick-off from the Academy, and doing
the light hearted and the fantastic toe with the girls."
"I shan't feel a whole lot more merry myself," sighed Dave, as he gazed
affectionately, wistfully at his chum. "Danny, this has hit me about as
hard as it has you. And it warns me, too, that my turn will probably
come next. I don't stand an awful lot higher in my markings than you
do."
"Doesn't it feel fine to be a bilger?" gulped Dalzell, staring at the
floor.
A "bilger," as has been already explained, is a midshipman who has
failed and has been dropped.
"Oh, but you're not a bilger, yet!" cried Darrin, leaping up and resting
both hands on his chum's shoulder.
"What's the odds?" demanded Dan grimly. "I shall be, after I've been
before the Board next Monday forenoon at ten o'clock."
"Nonsense! Not if you make a good fight!"
"Fight--nothing!" sighed Dan wearily. "In a fight there's some one else
that you can hit back at. But I won't have a blessed soul to fight. I'm
up against a gang who are all referees, and all down on me at the
outset."
"Nonsense," combatted Dave. "You----"
"Oh, that's all right, David, little giant," returned Dalzell with an
attempt at cheeriness. "You mean well, but a fellow isn't reported
deficient unless he's so far behind that the Board has his case settled
in advance. From all I can hear it isn't once in a camel's age that a
fellow so reported, and ordered before the Board, gets off with anything
less than a hard, wet bilge. What I'm thinking of now is, what am I
going to pick up as a career when I go home from here as a failure."
If it hadn't been for the pride he felt in still having the uniform on,
Dalzell might not have been able to check the tears that tried to flow.
"Come on," commanded Dave, leaping up, "we'll run up to the deck above,
and see if we can't find Mr. Freeman in."
"What good will that do?" demanded Dan. "Freeman is a first classman,
but he hasn't any particular drag with the Board."
"It won't do any harm, anyway, for us to have a talk with an older
classman," argued Dave. "Button your blouse, straighten your hair and
come along."
"So it's as bad as that, is it!" asked Freeman sympathetically, after
his cheery "come in" had admitted the unhappy youngsters.
"Yes," replied Dave incisively. "Now, the question is, what can be done
about it?"
"I wish you had asked me an easier one," sighed the first classman.
"You're mighty well liked, all through the Academy, Dalzell, and every
one of us will hate to see you go."
"But what can be done to ward off that fate?" insisted Darrin as
impatiently as a third classman might speak to a venerable first
classman.
"Well, now, I want to think over that," confessed Freeman frankly. "Of
course, Dalzell's record, this term, is in black and white, and can't be
gainsaid. It's just possible our young friend can put up some line of
talk that will extend his time here, and perhaps enable him to pull
through. It's a mighty important question, so I'll tell you what we'll
do. Of course, the hop comes on for to-morrow night. Let me have until
Sunday evening. Meanwhile I'll talk with some of the other fellows of my
class. You both come in here Sunday evening, and I'll have the answer
for you--if there's any possible way of finding one."
With that the chums had to be content. Expressing their gratitude to
this friendly first classman, they withdrew.
That Saturday forenoon Dan did considerably better with the two
recitations that he had in hand.
"I got easier questions than usual, I guess," he said to Dave, with a
mournful smile.
After Saturday dinner, Dave and Dan, having secured permission to visit
in Annapolis, steered their course through the gate, straight up
Maryland Avenue, through State Circle and around into Main Street, to
the Maryland House.
At the desk they sent up their cards to Mrs. Meade, then stepped into
the parlor.
Barely two minutes had passed when Belle and Laura flew downstairs.
"Mother says she'll be down as soon as she fancies you'll care about
seeing her," laughed Belle.
"And how are you getting on in your classes?" asked Laura Bentley,
glancing straight at unhappy Dan.
Both midshipmen had agreed not to mention a word of Dan's heartache to
either of the girls.
Dan gulped hard, though he managed to conceal the fact.
Darrin, however, was ready with the answer:
"Oh, we're having pretty rough sailing, but we're both still in our
class."
Which statement was wholly truthful.
"Up at West Point," Laura continued, "Dick told us that the first two
years were the hardest for a man to keep his place. I fancy it's just
about the same here, isn't it?"
"Just about," Dave nodded. "The first two years are hardest because it
takes all that time for a fellow to get himself keyed up to the gait of
study that is required in the government academies. But won't you let us
talk about something that's really pleasant, girls?" Dave asked, with
his charming smile. "Suppose we talk about yourselves. My, but you girls
are good to look at!"
After that, the conversation was shifted to lighter subjects.
Even Dan, in the joy of meeting two girl friends from home, began to be
less conscious of his load of misery.
Presently Mrs. Meade came down. She chatted with the two fine-looking
young midshipmen for a few moments. Then Dave proposed:
"Wouldn't you like us to escort you through the Academy grounds, so that
you can get a good idea of the place in daylight?"
"We've been waiting only for you to invite us," rejoined Belle.
For the next two hours the time was passed pleasantly.
But Belle, behind all her light chatter, was unusually keen and
observing.
"Is anything wrong with either of you?" she asked Dave suddenly, when
this pair were out of easy hearing of the others.
"Why do you ask that?" inquired Dave, looking at her in his direct
fashion.
"Why, I may be unnecessarily sensitive, but I can't help feeling that
some sort of disaster is hanging over either you or Dan."
"I hope not," replied Darrin evasively.
"Dave, that isn't a direct answer," warned Belle, raising her eyebrows.
"Do you consider me entitled to one?"
"Yes. What's the question?"
"Are you in any trouble here?"
"No, I'm thankful to say."
"Then is Dan!"
"Belle, I'd rather not answer that."
"Why----"
"Well, because, if he is, I'd rather not discuss it."
"Has Dan been caught in any scrape?"
"No. His conduct record is fine."
"Then it must be failure in his studies."
Dave did not answer.
"Why don't you tell me?" insisted Belle.
"If anything were in the wind, Belle, we'd rather not tell you and spoil
your visit. And don't ask Dan anything about it."
"I think I know enough," went on Belle thoughtfully and
sympathetically. "Poor Dan! He's one of the finest of fellows."
"There are no better made," retorted Dave promptly.
"If anything happens to Dan here, dear, I know you will feel just as
unhappy about it as if it happened to yourself."
"Mighty close to it," nodded Darrin. "But it would be a double
heartbreak for me, if I had to leave."
"Why?"
"On account of the future I've planned for you, Belle."
"Oh, you silly boy, then!" Belle answered, smiling into his eyes. "I
believe I have half committed myself to the idea of marrying you when
you've made your place in life. But it was Dave Darrin to whom I gave
that half promise--not a uniform of any sort. Dave, if anything ever
happens that you have to quit here, don't imagine that it's going to
make a particle of difference in our understanding."
"You're the real kind of sweetheart, Belle!" murmured Dave, gazing
admiringly at her flushed face.
"Did you ever suspect that I wasn't?" asked Miss Meade demurely.
"Never!" declared Midshipman Darrin devoutly. "Nevertheless, it's fine
to be reassured once in a while."
"What a great fellow Dan is!" exclaimed Belle a few minutes later. "See
how gayly he is chatting with Laura. I don't believe Laura guesses for a
moment that Dan Dalzell is just as game a fellow as the Spartan boy of
olden times."
CHAPTER XV
A DISAGREEABLE FIRST CLASSMAN
The hop that night was one of the happiest occasions Dave had ever
known, yet it was destined to result in trouble for him.
Midshipman Treadwell, of the first class, caught sight of Belle as she
entered the gym at Dave Darrin's side.
With Treadwell it happened to be one of those violent though unusually
silly affairs known as "love at first sight."
As for Belle, she was not likely to have eyes for anyone in particular,
save Dave.
Treadwell, who had come alone, and who was not to be overburdened with
dances, went after Dave as soon as that youngster left Belle for the
first time.
"Mighty sweet looking girl you have with you, Darry," observed the first
classman, though he took pains not to betray too much enthusiasm.
"Right!" nodded Dave.
"You'll present me, won't you?"
"Assuredly, as soon as I come back. I have a little commission to attend
to."
"And you might be extremely kind, Darry, and write me down for a couple
of numbers on Miss----"
"Miss Meade is the young lady's name."
"Then delight me by writing down a couple of reservations for me on Miss
Meade's card."
Darrin's face clouded slightly.
"I'd like to, Treadwell, but the card is pretty crowded, and some other
fellows--"
"One dance, anyway, then."
"I will, then, if there's a space to be left, and if Miss Meade is
agreeable," promised Dave, as he hurried away.
Two minutes later, when he returned, looking very handsome, indeed, in
his short-waisted, gold-laced dress coat, Dave felt his arm touched.
"I'm waiting for you to keep your engagement with me," Midshipman
Treadwell murmured.
"Come along; I shall be delighted to present you to Miss Meade."
Since every midshipman is granted to be a gentleman, midshipman
etiquette does not require that the lady be consulted about the
introduction.
"Miss Meade," began Dave, bowing before his sweetheart, "I wish to
present Mr. Treadwell"
Belle's greeting was easy. Treadwell, gazing intensely into her eyes,
exchanged a few commonplaces. Belle, entirely at her ease, did not
appear to be affected by the battery of Mr. Treadwell's gaze. Then good
breeding required that the first classman make another bow and stroll
away.
As he left, Treadwell murmured in Dare's ear:
"Don't forget that dance, Darry! Two if there is any show."
Midshipman Darrin nodded slightly. As he turned to Belle, that young
lady demanded lightly:
"Is that pirate one of your friends, Dave?"
"Not more so than any other comrades in the brigade," Darrin answered.
"Why?"
"Nothing, only I saw you two speaking together a little while ago----"
"That was when he was asking me to present him."
"Then, after you left him," continued Belle, in a low voice, "Mr.
Treadwell scowled after you as though he could have demolished you."
"Why, I've no doubt Mr. Treadwell is very jealous of me," laughed Damn
happily. "Why shouldn't he be? By the way, will you let me see your
dance card? Mr. Treadwell asked me to write his name down for one or two
dances."
"Please don't," begged Belle suddenly, gripping her dance card tightly.
"I hope you don't mind, Dave," she added in a whisper, "but I've taken
just a shadow of a dislike to Mr. Treadwell, after the way that he
scowled after you. I--I really don't want to dance with him."
Dave could only bow, which he did. Then other midshipmen were presented.
Belle's card was quickly filled, without the appearance of Midshipman
Treadwell's name on it.
The orchestra struck up. Dave danced the first two numbers with Belle,
moving through a dream of happiness as he felt her waist against his
arm, one of her hands resting on his shoulder.
The second dance was a repetition of Dave's pleasure. Then Dave and Dan
exchanged partners for two more dances.
After their first dance, a waltz, Dave led Laura to a seat.
"Will you get me a glass of water, Dave?" Laura asked, fanning herself.
As Dave hastened away he felt, once more, a light, detaining touch.
"Darry, did you save those two dances for me with Miss Meade?" asked
Treadwell.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Dave replied. "But there had been many other
applicants. By the time that Miss Meade's card was filled there were
many disappointed ones."
"And I'm one of them?" demanded Mr. Treadwell.
"Very sorry," replied Darrin regretfully, "but you were one of the
left-over ones."
"Very good, sir," replied Treadwell coldly, and moved away.
"Now, I'll wager anything that Treadwell is sore with me," murmured Dave
to himself. "However, Belle is the one to be pleased."
It was a particularly gay and pleasant hop. When it was over Dave and
Dan escorted the girls and Mrs. Meade back to the hotel. The little room
in Bancroft Hall seemed especially small and dingy to the returning
midshipmen.
Especially was Dan Dalzell in the blues. Though he had been outwardly
gay with the girls, he now suffered a re-action. Dave, too, shivered for
his friend.
Mrs. Meade and the girls returned by an early morning train, so the two
chums did not see the girls again during that visit.
On Sunday, Dave went at his books with a dogged air, after morning
chapel and dinner.
"I suppose this is the last day of study for me here," grimaced Dan, "so
I mean to make the most of the pleasure."
"Nonsense," retorted Darrin heartily; "you'll finish out this year, and
then have two more solid years of study here ahead of you."
"Cut it!" begged Dan dolefully. "Don't try to jolly me along like that."
"You're down in the dumps, just now, Danny boy," smiled Darrin
wistfully. "Just bombard the Board with rapid-fire talk to-morrow, and
you'll pull through all right."
Dan sighed, then went on with his half-hearted study.
Later in the afternoon Dave, feeling the need of fresh air, closed his
books.
"Come for a walk, Danny boy?"
"Don't dare to," replied Dalzell morosely.
So, though Darrin went out, he resolved not to remain long away from his
moody chum.
Outside, on one of the cement walks, Dave turned toward Flirtation Walk.
It seemed the best surrounding in which to think of Belle.
"Mr. Darrin!" called a voice.
Dave turned, to behold Mr. Treadwell coming at a fast stride with a
scowl on his face.
"That was a dirty trick you played me last night, Mr. Darrin!" cried the
first classman angrily.
"What?" gasped Dave, astonished, for this was not in line with the usual
conversation of midshipmen.
"You know well enough what I mean," cried Treadwell angrily. "You spiked
my only chance to dance with Miss Meade."
"You're wrong there," retorted Dave coldly and truthfully "I didn't."
"Then how did it happen?"
"I can't discuss that with you," Darrin rejoined. "I didn't make any
effort, though, to spoil your chance of a dance with the young lady."
"Mr. Darrin, I don't choose to believe you, sir!"
Dave's face went crimson, then pale.
"Do you realize what you're saying, Mr. Treadwell?"
"Of course"--sneeringly.
"Are you trying to pick trouble with me!" demanded Dave, his eyes
flashing with spirit.
"I repeat that I don't choose to believe your explanation, sir."
"Then you pass me the lie?"
"As you prefer to consider it," jeered the first classman.
"Oh, very good, then, Mr. Treadwell," retorted Dave, eyeing the first
classman and sizing him up.
Treadwell was one of the biggest men, physically, in the brigade. He was
also one of the noted fighters of his class. Beside Treadwell,
Midshipman Darrin did not size up at all advantageously.
"If you do not retract what you just said," pursued Dave Darrin, growing
cooler now that he realized the deliberate nature of the affront that
had been put upon him, "I shall have no choice but to send my friends to
you."
"Delighted to see them, at any time," replied the first classman,
turning disdainfully upon his heel and strolling away.
"Now, why on earth does that fellow deliberately pick a fight with me?"
wondered Darrin, as he strolled along by himself. "Treadwell can thump
me. He can knock me clean down the Bay and into the Atlantic Ocean, but
what credit is there in it for a first classman to thrash a youngster?"
It was too big a puzzle. After thinking it over for some time Dave
turned and strolled back to Bancroft Hall.
"You didn't stay out long!" remarked Dan, looking up with a weary smile
as his chum re-entered their room.
"No," admitted Dave. "There wasn't much fun in being out alone."
With a sigh, Dan turned back to his book, while Dave seated himself at
his own study table, in a brown daze.
Things were happening fast--Dan's impending "bilge" from the Naval
Academy, and his own coming fight with the first classman who would be
sure to make it a "blood fight"!
CHAPTER XVI
HOW DAN FACED THE BOARD
"We trust, Mr. Dalzell, that you can make some statement or explanation
that will show that we shall be justified in retaining you as a
midshipman in the Naval Academy."
It was the superintendent of the United States Naval Academy who was
speaking.
Dan's hour of great ordeal had come upon him. That young midshipman
found himself in the Board Room, facing the entire Academic Board,
trying to remember what Freeman had told him the night before.
The time was 10.30 a.m. on that fateful Monday.
Midshipman Dalzell appeared to be collected, but he was also very
certainly white-faced.
Many a young man, doomed to be sent forth from a Naval career, back into
the busy, unheeding world, had faced this Board in times past. So it was
hardly to be expected that Dan would inspire any unusual interest in the
members of the Board.
Dan swallowed at something hard in his throat, then opened his lips to
speak.
"I am aware, sir, and gentlemen, that I am at present sufficiently
deficient in my studies to warrant my being dropped," Dan began rather
slowly. "Yet I would call attention to the fact that I was nearly as
badly off, in the matter of markings, at this time last year. It is also
a matter of record that I pulled myself together, later on, and
contrived to get through the first year with a considerable margin of
credits to spare. If I am permitted to finish the present term here I
believe I can almost positively promise that I will round out this year
with as good a showing as I did last year."
"You have thought the matter carefully out in making this statement,
have you, Mr. Dalzell?" asked the superintendent.
"I have, sir."
"Have you any explanation to offer for falling below the standards so
far this year, Mr. Dalzell?"
"I believe, sir, that I make a much slower start, with new studies, than
most of my classmates," Dan continued, speaking more rapidly now, but in
a most respectful manner. "Once I begin to catch the full drift of new
studies I believe that I will overtake some of my classmates who showed
a keener comprehension at the first. I think, sir, and gentlemen, that
my record, as contrasted with the records of some of my classmates who
achieved about the same standing I did for last year will bear my
statement out."
[Illustration: "Have You Any Explanation to Offer, Mr. Dalzell?"]
The superintendent turned to a printed pamphlet in which were set forth
the records of the midshipmen for the year before.
"Mr. Dalzell," asked another member of the Board, "do you feel that you
are really suited for the life of the Navy? Is it your highest ambition
to become an officer of the Navy?"
"It's my only ambition, sir, in the way of a career," Dan answered
solemnly. "As to my being suited for the Navy, sir, I can't make a good
answer to that. But I most earnestly hope that I shall have an
opportunity, for the present, to try to keep myself in the service."
"And you feel convinced that you need only to be carried for the balance
of the term to enable you to make good, and to justify any action that
we may take looking to that end?" asked another member of the Board.
"That is my firm conviction, sir."
The superintendent, who had been silently examining and marking some
statements in the pamphlet, now passed it to the nearest member of the
Board, who, after a glance or two, passed the pamphlet on to another
member.
Silence fell upon the room while Dan's printed record was being read.
"Have you anything else that you wish to say, Mr. Dalzell?" asked the
superintendent at last.
"Only this, sir and gentlemen," replied Dan promptly. "If I am permitted
to go on with the brigade, I promise, as far as any human being may
promise, that I will not only be found to have passed at the end of this
term, but that I will also have a higher marking after the annual
examinations than after the semi-annuals."
These last few words Dan spoke with his whole soul thrown into the
words. How he longed to remain in the Navy, now that he stood at the
threshold of the life, uncertain whether he was about to be kicked
across it into the outer world!
After glancing around the table, the superintendent turned once more to
the young man.
"That will be all, at present, Mr. Dalzell."
Saluting briskly, crisply, Dan wheeled about, marching from the room.
He was in time to make a section recitation before dinner.
"How did you come out, Danny boy?" anxiously inquired Dave Darrin as the
two, in their room, hastily prepared to answer the coming call for
dinner formation.
"I wish I knew," replied Dalzell wistfully. "I said all that I could
say without being everlastingly fresh."
After the brigade had been formed for dinner, and the brigade adjutant
had reported the fact, the command was given:
"Publish the orders!"
This the brigade adjutant did rapidly, and in perfunctory tones.
Dalzell jumped, however, when he heard his own name pronounced. He
strained his ears as the brigade adjutant read:
"In the matter of Daniel Dalzell, summoned before the Academic Board to
determine his fitness and aptitude for continuing in the brigade, the
Board has granted Midshipman Dalzell's urgent request that he be
continued as a midshipman for the present."
There was a great lump, instantly, in Dan's throat. It was a reprieve, a
chance for official life--but that was all.
"I'll make good--I'll make good!" he told himself, with a violent gulp.
The orders were ringing out sharply now. The midshipmen were being
marched in to dinner.
Hardly a word did Dalzell speak as he ate. As for Dave Darrin, he was
too happy over his chum's respite to want to talk.
Yet, when they strolled together in the open air during the brief
recreation period following the meal, Dalzell suddenly asked:
"Dave when do you fight with Treadwell?"
"To-night, I hope," replied Darrin.
"Oh, then I must get busy!"
"Why?"
"Why, I'm to represent you, Darry. Who are Treadwell's--"
"Danny boy, don't make a fuss about it," replied Dave quietly, "but just
for this once you are not to be my second."
"Why--"
"Danny boy, you have just gotten by the Board by a hair's breadth. What
kind of an act of gratitude would it be for you to make your first act a
breach of discipline? For a fight, though often necessary here, is in
defiance of the regulations."
"But Dave, I've never been out of your fights!"
"You will be this time, Danny. Don't worry about it, either. Farley and
Page are going to stand by me. In fact, I think that even now they are
talking with Treadwell's friends."
"You're wrong," murmured Dalzell, looking very solemn. "Here come Farley
and Page right now."
In another moment the seconds had reached Darrin and his chum.
"To-night?" asked Dave Quietly.
"Yes," nodded Page.
"Time?"
"Just after recall."
"Good," murmured Darrin. "You two come for me, and I'll be ready. And I
thank both of you fellows for taking up the matter for me."
"We'll be mighty glad to be there, Darry," grinned Farley, "for we look
to see you finish off that first classman."
"Maybe," smiled Dave quietly. "I'll do all I can, anyway."
"And to think," almost moaned Dan Dalzell, "that you're to be in a
scrap, David, little giant, and I'm not to be there to see!"
"There'll be other fights, I'm afraid," sighed Darry. "I seem destined
to displease quite a few of the fellows here at Annapolis."
Dan tried to study, that night, after Darrin had left the room in the
company of his seconds. Certainly Dan, in the light of his promise made
to the Board that morning, had need to study. Yet he found it woefully
hard to settle his mind on mathematics while Dave was fighting the fight
of his Naval Academy career.
"Oh, well," muttered Dan, picking up a pencil for the third time, "Dave
and I each have our own styles of fights, just now. Here goes for a
knockout blow at math!"
CHAPTER XVII
LOSING THE TIME-KEEPER'S COUNT
Conners and Brayton were Treadwell's seconds.
Since it is not considered fair to have the referee or time-keeper from
either class represented in a fight, Edgerton and Wheeler, of the second
class, were referee and time-keeper respectively.
All of the young men were early at the usual fighting ground. The fall
air was cool and crisp, but it was not yet considered cold enough to
justify the extra risk of holding a fight in-doors.
Dave was quickly stripped and made ready by his seconds. His
well-developed chest bespoke fine powers in the way of "wind" and
endurance. His smooth, hard, trim muscles stood out distinctly.
Treadwell took more time in getting himself ready for the ring. When at
last, however, the first classman stood bared to the waist, he looked
like a giant beside Dave Darrin.
"It looks like a shame to take the money, Tread," murmured referee
Edgerton.
"I don't want to pound the youngster hard," explained Midshipman
Treadwell, in an undertone. "Yet I've got to teach him both to respect
my class and myself."
On this point, as an official of the fight, Referee Edgerton did not
feel called upon to express an opinion.
Farley, at his first glimpse of the waiting first classman, felt a chill
of coming disaster.
"Page," he growled, "that huge top-classman makes our Darry look like a
creeping infant."
"Darry will take care of himself," retorted Midshipman Page in an
undertone.
"Do you believe it?"
"I surely do."
"But Treadwell looks a whole lot more vast now that he's stripped."
"Darry is much smaller, I know; But Darrin is one of those rare fellows
who don't know what it means to be whipped. He can't be put out of
business by anything smaller than a twelve-inch gun!"
"I hope you're right," sighed Farley.
Dave, in the meantime, to keep himself from being chilled by the frosty
air, was running lightly about, swinging his arms.
"Are you both ready, gentlemen?" inquired Midshipman Edgerton, while
Time-keeper Wheeler drew out his stop watch.
Both stepped to toe the scratch.
"Yes." nodded Dave.
"Ready!" rumbled Treadwell.
The referee briefly made the usual announcement about it being a fight
to the finish, with two-minute rounds and two minutes between rounds.
"Time!"
As Treadwell leaped forward, both fists in battery, Dave took a swift,
nimble sidestep. He felt that he had to study this big fellow carefully
before doing more than keep on the defensive.
Now footwork was one of the fighting tricks for which Darry was famous.
Yet he had too much courage to rely wholly upon it.
Five times Treadwell swung at his smaller opponent, but each time Dave
was somewhere else.
Despite his greater size, Treadwell was himself nimble and an adept at
footwork.
Finding it hard, however, to get about as quickly as his smaller
opponent, the first classman soon went in for close, in-body fighting,
following Dave, half-cornering him, and forcing him to stand and take
it.
Two or three body blows Dave succeeded in parrying so that they glanced,
doing him little harm.
Then there came an almost crunching sound. Treadwell's right fist had
landed, almost dazing the youngster with its weight against his nose.
There was a swift, free rush of the red. Darrin had yielded up "first
blood" in the fight.
"I've got to dodge more, and not let myself be cornered," Darrin told
himself, keeping his fists busy in warding off blows.
Then, of a sudden, Dave turned on the aggressive. He struck fast and
furiously, but Treadwell, with a grin, beat down his attack, then soon
landed a swinging hook on Dave's neck that sent him spinning briefly.
"He expects to finish this fight for his own amusement," flashed angrily
through Darrin's mind. "I'll get in something that hurts before I toss
the sponge."
"Time!"
Two minutes were up. To Dave it seemed more like half an hour.
"Steady, now!" murmured Page, in his principal's ear, as the two seconds
leaped at the task of rubbing down their men. "Unless you let yourself
get rattled, Darry, that big fellow isn't going to get you. Whenever
you're on the defensive, and being crowded hard, change like lightning
and drive in for the top classer's solar plexus."
"I tried that three times in this last round," murmured Dave. "But the
fellow is too big and powerful for me. He simply pounds me down when I
go for him."
"Work for more strategy," whispered Page, as he held a sponge to Dave's
battered nose, while Farley rubbed the muscles of his right arm.
"I haven't given up the fight," muttered Dave, "But, of course, I've
known from the start that Treadwell is a pretty big fighter for one of
my weight."
"Oh, you'll get him yet," spoke Page confidently.
The fighters were being called for the second round.
In this Dave received considerable punishment, though he landed three or
four times on Treadwell's body.
Then twice in succession the champion of the third class was knocked
down.
Neither, however, was a knockout blow.
Dave took plenty of time, within his rights, about leaping to his feet,
and in each instance got away from Treadwell's leaping assault.
Just after the second knock-down, time was called for the end of the
round.
"You'll get him yet, Darry," was Page's prediction, but he did not speak
as hopefully as before.
Farley, too, was full of loyalty for his friend and fellow-classman,
but he did not allow this to blind his judgment. Farley's opinion was
that Dave was done for, unless he could land some lucky fluke in a
knockout blow.
"Go right in and land that youngster," Treadwell's own seconds were
advising him. "Don't let him have the satisfaction of standing up to you
for three whole rounds or more."
"Do you think that little teaser is as easy as he looks?" growled
Treadwell.
"Oh, Darrin is all right at his own weight," admitted Midshipman
Conners. "But he has no business with you, Tread. You're quick enough,
too, when you exert yourself. So jump right in and finish it before this
round is over."
"I'll try it, then," nodded Treadwell.
Though he had not the slightest notion that he was to be defeated, this
big top classman was learning a new respect for Darrin's prowess. He
could thrash Dave, of course, but Treadwell did not expect to do it
easily.
For the first twenty seconds of the third round the two men sparred
cautiously. Dave had no relish for standing the full force of those
sledge-hammer blows, while Treadwell knew that he must look out for the
unexpected from his still nimble opponent.
"Lie down when you've had enough," jeered Treadwell, as he landed a
jolt on one of the youngster's shoulders and sent him reeling slightly.
Dave, however, used his feet well enough to get away from the follow-up.
"Are you getting tired?" Darrin shot back at his opponent.
"Silence, both of you," commanded Referee Edgerton. "Do all your talking
with your fists!"
Just then Treadwell saw an opening, and followed the referee's advice by
aiming a blow at Dave's left jaw. It landed just back of the ear,
instead, yet with such force that Dave sank dizzily to the ground, while
Treadwell drew back from the intended follow-up.
Farley and Page looked on anxiously from their corner. Midshipman
Wheeler, scanning his watch, was counting off the seconds.
"--five, six, seven, eight, nine--ten!"
At the sound of eight Dave Darrin had made a strenuous effort to rise.
Yet he had swayed, fallen back slightly, then forced himself with a rush
to his feet.
But Midshipman Treadwell drew back, both fists hanging at his sides, for
the "ten" had been spoken, and Dave Darrin had lost the count.
While Dave stood there, looking half-dizzily at his opponent, Referee
Edgerton's voice broke in crisply:
"Mr. Darrin required more than the full count to come back. The fight is
therefore awarded to Mr. Treadwell."
CHAPTER XVIII
FIGHTING THE FAMOUS DOUBLE BATTLE
"It wasn't fair," hissed Midshipman Page hotly.
"It was by a mighty small margin, anyway," quivered Farley.
"I don't feel whipped yet," remarked Dave quietly.
"Oh, well, Darry," urged Farley, "don't feel humiliated over being
thrashed by such a human mountain of a top classer."
Dave, whose chest had been heaving, and whose lungs had been taking in
great gulps of air, suddenly pushed his second gently away.
"Mr. Treadwell, sir, will you come over here a moment?" he called. "And
also the officials of the fight?"
Treadwell, with a self-satisfied leer on his face, stepped away from his
seconds coming jauntily over.
Midshipman Edgerton and Wheeler followed in some wonder.
"Mr. Treadwell," began Dave, looking full into the eyes of his late
antagonist, "I have no fault, sir, to find with your style of fighting.
You behaved fairly at every point."
"Thank you, sir," interjected the big midshipman grimly.
"The verdict was also fair enough," Dave continued, "for I am aware that
I took a hair's-breadth more than the count. Still, I do not feel, Mr.
Treadwell, that the result was decisive. Therefore I have to ask of you
the favor of another early meeting, for a more definite try-out."
Treadwell gasped. So did his recent seconds and the late officials of
the fight. Even Farley's jaw dropped just a trifle, but Page's face
flushed with new-found pleasure.
"Another fight, sir?" demanded Midshipman Treadwell.
"Yes, sir," replied Darrin quietly.
"Oh, very well," agreed Treadwell, nonchalantly. "At any time that you
wish, Mr. Darrin--any time."
"How would fifteen minutes from now do?" demanded Dave, smiling coolly.
Treadwell fairly gasped, though only from sheer astonishment.
"Why, if your seconds and the officials think that fair to you, Mr.
Darrin," replied Treadwell in another moment, "I am sure that I have no
objection to remaining around here a little longer."
"Do you insist on calling for the second fight within fifteen minutes,
Mr. Darrin?" asked Second Classman Edgerton.
"For my own part, I do," replied Dave quietly; "I leave the decision to
Mr. Treadwell's courtesy."
"Well, of all the freaks!" muttered Mr. Wheeler, as the two fight
officials walked aside to discuss the matter.
"Darry," demanded the agitated Farley, "are you plumb, clean crazy?"
"Do you know what we're fighting about, Farley, old man?" asked Dave
very quietly.
"No; of course not."
"It's a personal matter."
"O-oh!"
"It's a matter in which I can't accept an imitation whipping."
"But surely you don't expect to whip Treadwell in your present
condition?"
"I very likely shall get a thorough trouncing," smiled Darrin.
"It's madness," broke in Page worriedly.
"I told you it was a personal matter," laughed Dave softly. "I shan't
mind getting whacked if it is done up in good shape. It's only this
near-whipping to which I object."
"Well--great Scott!" gasped Page.
"Hush!" warned Farley. "Here comes Edgerton."
Midshipman Edgerton, looking very much puzzled, stepped over to Dave
Darrin's corner.
"Darrin," began the referee in a friendly tone, "Tread doesn't like the
idea of fighting you again to-night."
"Didn't he say he would?" demanded Darrin.
"Yes; but of course, but--"
"I hold him to his word, Mr. Edgerton."
"But of all the crazy--"
"I have my own reasons, sir," Darrin interposed quietly. "I think it
very likely, too, that Mr. Treadwell will comprehend my reasons."
"But he doesn't like the idea of fighting an already half-whipped man."
"Will it get on his nerves and unsteady him?" asked Dave ironically.
"Are you bound to fight to-night, Mr. Darrin?"
"I am, sir."
"Then I suppose it goes--it has to," assented Midshipman Edgerton
moodily. "But of all the irrational--"
"Just what I said, sir," nodded Page.
"I shall be ready, sir, when the fifteen minutes are up," continued
Dave. "But I am certain that I shall need all the time until then for
getting myself into first-class condition."
"Darry is a fool--and a wonder!" ejaculated Edgerton under his breath,
as he walked away.
"I'm sorry, Darry," murmured Farley mournfully, "but--well, beat your
way to it!"
"I intend to," retorted Dave doggedly.
Rubbed down by his seconds, Dave drew on his blouse, without a shirt.
Quitting the others, Dave walked briskly back and forth. At last he
broke into a jog-trot.
At last he halted, inflating and emptying his lungs with vigorous
breathing.
"I feel just about as good as ever," he declared, nodding cheerily to
his seconds.
"Get off that blouse, then," ordered Midshipman Farley, after a glance
at his watch. "We've two minutes left out of the fifteen."
"I'll go forward at the scratch, then," nodded Dave.
Treadwell, in the meantime, had pulled on his outer clothing and had
stood moodily by, watching Dave's more workmanlike preparations with a
disdainful smile.
"I'll get the fellow going quickly this time," Mr. Treadwell told
Conners. "As soon as I get him going I'll dive in with a punch that will
wind up the matter in short order. I've planned to do considerable
reviewing of navigation to-night."
"I hope you have your wish," murmured Conners.
"What do you mean?"
"Just what I said."
"Do you think I'm going to have any trouble whatever about finishing up
that touge youngster!" demanded Tread well sarcastically.
"No; I don't imagine you will. But at the same time, Tread, I tell you I
don't care about having enemies among fellows who come back as swiftly,
strongly and as much like a bulldog as Darry does."
Seeing Dave pull off his blouse, Treadwell slowly removed his own
clothing above the waist.
"Rub me down along the arms a bit," said Midshipman Treadwell, after he
had exercised his arms a moment.
"I reckon we'd better," nodded Conners. "You must have got stiff from
standing still after the late mix-up."
"No kinks but what will iron out at once," chuckled Treadwell. "I'll
show you as soon as I get in action."
His two seconds rubbed him down loyally.
"Are you ready, gentlemen?" called Midshipman Edgerton.
Both men stepped quickly forward, but all of the onlookers thought they
saw rather more spring in Dave Darrin than in his more bulky opponent.
The preliminaries were announced in a few words.
Of course, there was no handshaking.
"Time!" sounded the call.
Dave Darrin quickly proved to be so full of vigor that Treadwell lay
back on the defensive after the first two or three passes. Dave followed
him right up with vim.
Yet, for the first forty seconds of the round no real damage was done on
either side. Then:
Bump!
"O-o-oh!"
That cry came simultaneously from Treadwell and from all the spectators.
Dave's right fist had landed crushingly on the top classman's left eye,
almost instantly closing that organ.
Darrin leaped nimbly back, both from a chivalrous impulse to give
Treadwell a chance to recover his steadiness and to save himself from
any sudden rush and clinch by his big opponent.
But Treadwell, standing with his guard up, showed no inclination to
follow the one who had just given him such punishment.
"Mix it up, gentlemen--mix it!" called Midshipman Edgerton impatiently.
At that command from the referee Dave Darrin sprang forward.
Treadwell seemed wholly on the defensive now, though he struck as
heavily as ever. Toward the end of the round Treadwell, having gotten
over the worst of the stinging from his eye, once more tried to rush
matters.
Whenever the big fellow's undamaged eye caught sight of the cool,
hostile smile on Darrin's face, Treadwell muttered savage words.
Some hard body blows were parried and others exchanged.
Both men were panting somewhat when the call of time closed the first
round.
"Darry, you nervy little rascal, waltz in and put that other eye up in
black clothes!" begged Page ecstatically, as he and Farley worked over
their principal.
Dave was ready quite twenty seconds before the call of time for the
second round.
Treadwell, however, took his full time in responding. At the last moment
he took another dab with the wet sponge against his swollen left eye.
"Time!"
With a suppressed yell Treadwell rushed at his opponent. Dave had to
sidestep to his own right, out of range of Treadwell, to save himself.
Then at it they went, all around the ring. Darrin had determined to
keep himself out of the way of those sledge-hammer fists until he saw
his own clear opening.
Four or five times Treadwell landed heavily on Darrin's ribs. The
younger, smaller midshipman was getting seriously winded, but all the
time he fought to save himself and to get that one opening.
It came.
Pound!
Darrin's hard-clenched left fist dropped in on Treadwell's right eye.
This time there was no exclamation from the bruised one.
Alert Dave was careful to give him no chance. Within a second after that
eye-closer landed Darrin struck with his right, landing on the jaw bone
under Treadwell's ear.
Down in a heap sank the top classman. He was unconscious before his body
struck the ground.
Wheeler counted off the seconds.
"--ten!"
Still Mr. Treadwell lay motionless.
"Do your best for him, gentlemen," begged Referee Edgerton, turning to
the first classman's seconds. "Mr. Darrin wins the second fight."
Dave, a satisfied look on his face, stepped back to his seconds.
This time he did not require as much attention. Within five minutes he
was dressed.
By this time Mr. Treadwell, under the ministrations of his seconds and
of the late officials, was just coming back to consciousness.
"Something happened, eh?" asked the top classman drowsily.
"Rather!" murmured Mr. Edgerton dryly.
"Did I--did I--lose the fight?"
"You did," Edgerton assented. "But don't let that disturb you. You went
down before the best man in the Naval Academy."
Treadwell sighed gloomily. It was a hard blow to his pride--much harder
than any that Dave had landed on his head.
"Mr. Treadwell," inquired Dave, stepping over, "we are comrades, even if
we had a slight disagreement. Do you care to shake hands?"
"Help me to my feet," urged the first classman, who was sitting up.
His seconds complied. Then Midshipman Treadwell held out his hand.
"Here's my hand," he said rather thickly. "And I apologize, too, Mr.
Darrin."
"Then say no more about it, please," begged Dave, as their hands met in
a strong clasp.
None of the others present had the least idea of the provocation of
this strange, spirited double fight. All, however, were glad to see the
difficulty mended.
Then Dave and his seconds, leaving the field first, made their way back
to Bancroft Hall. Farley and Page went straight to their own room.
"How did it come out?" demanded Dan Dalzell eagerly, as soon as his chum
entered their quarters.
Dropping into a chair, Dave told the story of the double fight briefly.
He told it modestly, too, but Dan could imagine what his chum omitted.
"David, little giant," exclaimed Dalzell, leaping about him, "that fight
will become historic here! Oh, how I regret having missed it. Don't you
ever dare to leave me out again!"
"It wasn't such a much," smiled Dave rather wearily, as he went over to
his study desk.
"Perhaps it's indiscreet, even of a chum," rambled on Dalzell, "but
what--"
"What was the fight all about?" laughed Dave softly. "Yes; I suppose you
have a right to know that, Danny boy. But you must never repeat it to
any one. Treadwell wanted to dance with Belle at the hop, but she had
already noticed him, and declared she didn't want to dance with him. Of
course that settled it. But Treadwell accused me of not having asked
Belle."
"The nerve !" ejaculated Dan in disgust.
"And then he accused me of lying when I declared I had done my best for
him," continued Dave.
"I feel that I'd like to fight the fellow myself!" declared Dan Dalzell
hotly.
"Oh, no, you don't; for Treadwell apologized to-night, and we have
shaken hands. We're all comrades, you know, Danny boy."
* * * * *
Unknown to any of the parties to the fight, there had been spectators of
the spirited double battle.
Two men, a sailor and a marine, noting groups of midshipmen going toward
the historic battle ground of midshipmen, had hidden themselves near-by
in order "to see the fun."
These two enlisted men of the Navy had been spectators and auditors of
all that had taken place.
Not until the last midshipman had left the ground did the sailor and
marine emerge from their hiding place.
"Well, of all the game fights!" muttered the marine.
"Me? I'm hoping that some day I fight under that gallant middy," cried
the sailor.
"Who is this Mr. Darrin?" asked the marine, as the pair strolled away.
"He's a youngster--third classman. But he's one of the chaps who, on
the cruise, last summer, went over into a gale after another
middy--Darrin and his chum did it."
"There must be fine stuff in Mr. Darrin," murmured the marine.
"Couldn't you see that much just now?" demanded the sailor, who took the
remark as almost a personal affront, "My hat's off to Mr. Darrin. He's
one of our future admirals. If I round out my days in the service it
will be the height of my ambition to have him for my admiral. And a
mighty sea-going officer he'll be, at that!"
In their enthusiasm over the spectacle they had seen, the sailor and the
marine talked rather too much.
They were still talking over the battle as they strolled slowly past one
of the great, darkened buildings.
In the shadow of this building, not far away, stood an officer whom
neither of the enlisted men of the Navy saw; else they would have
saluted him.
That officer, Lieutenant Willow, U.S. Navy, listened with a good deal of
interest.
Mr. Willow was one of those officers who are known as duty-mad. He
gathered that there had been a fight, so he deemed it his duty to
report the fact at once to the discipline officer in charge over at
Bancroft Hall.
Regretting the necessity, yet full of the idea of doing his duty,
Lieutenant Willow wended his way promptly towards the office of the
officer in charge.
CHAPTER XIX
THE OFFICER IN CHARGE IS SHOCKED
Through the main entrance of Bancroft Hall, into the stately corridor,
Lieutenant Willow picked his way.
He looked solemn--unusually so, even for Lieutenant Willow, U.S.N. He
had the air of a man who hates to do his duty, but who is convinced that
the heavens would fall if he didn't.
To his left he turned, acknowledging smartly the crisp salute given him
by the midshipman assistant officer of the day.
Into the outer office of the officer in charge stepped Mr. Willow, and
thence on into the smaller room where Lieutenant-Commander Stearns sat
reading.
"Oh, good evening, Willow," hailed Lieut. Stearns heartily.
"Good evening, Stearns," was the almost moody reply.
"Sit down and let's have a chat I'm glad to see you," urged
Lieutenant-Commander Stearns.
Mr. Stearns, he of the round, jovial face, gazed at his junior with
twinkling eyes.
"Willow," he muttered, "I'm half inclined to believe that you've come
to me to make an official report."
"I guess I have," nodded Lieutenant Willow.
"And against some unfortunate midshipman, at that!"
"Against two, at least," sighed Mr. Willow, "and there were others
involved in the affair."
"It must be something fearful," said Mr. Stearns, who knew the junior
officer's inclination to be duty-mad. "But, see here, if you make an
official report you'll force me to take action, even though it's
something that I'd secretly slap a midshipman on the shoulder for doing.
No--don't begin to talk yet, Willow. Try a cigar and then tell me,
personally, what's worrying you. Then perhaps it won't be altogether
needful to make an official report."
"I never was able to take you--er--somewhat jovial views of an officer's
duty, Stearns," sighed Lieutenant Willow.
Nevertheless, he selected a cigar, bit off the end, lighted it and took
a few whiffs, Lieutenant-Commander Stearns all the while regarding his
comrade in arms with twinkling eyes.
"Now, fire ahead, Willow," urged the officer in charge, "but please
don't make your communication an official one--not at first. Fire ahead,
now, Willow."
"Well--er--just between ourselves," continued Lieutenant Willow slowly,
"there has been a fight to-night between two midshipmen."
"No!"
Lieutenant-Commander Stearns struck his fist rather heavily against the
desk.
"A fight--a real fight--with fists?" continued the officer in charge, in
a tone of mock incredulity. "No, no, no, Willow, you don't mean it--you
can't mean it!"
"Yes, I do," rejoined the junior officer rather stiffly.
"Oh, dear, what is the service coming to?" gasped Stearns ironically.
"Why, Willow, we never heard of such things when we were midshipmen
here. Now, did we?"
"I'm afraid we did--sometimes," admitted the junior officer. "But duty
is duty, you know, my dear Stearns. And this was an unusual fight, too.
The man who was whipped insisted on another fight right then and there,
and--he won the second fight."
"Bully!" chuckled the officer in charge. "Whew, but I wish I had been
there!"
"Stearns, you surely don't mean that?" gasped duty-mad Mr. Willow.
"You're quite right, Willow. No; I certainly don't want to be a
spoilsport, and I'm glad I wasn't there--in my official capacity. But
I'd like to have been divested of my rank for just an hour so that I
could have taken in such a scene as that."
"I'm--I'm just a bit astonished at your saying it, Stearns," rejoined
Lieutenant Willow. "But then, you're always joking."
"Perhaps I am joking," assented the officer in charge dryly, "but I
never lose sight of the fact that our Navy has been built up, at huge
expense, as a great fighting machine. Now, Willow, it takes fighting men
to run a fighting machine. Of course, I'm terribly shocked to know that
two midshipmen really had the grit to fight--but who were they! Mind
you, I'm not asking you in an official way. This question is purely
personal--just between ourselves. Who were the men? And, especially, who
was the fellow who lost the decision, and then had the utter effrontery
to demand a second chance at once, only to win the second fight?"
"Darrin was the man who lost the first fight and won the second,"
replied Lieutenant Willow.
"Mr. Darrin? One of our youngsters! Yes; I think I know him. And what
man of his class did he whip, the second time he tried!"
"It wasn't a man of his own class. It was Mr. Treadwell, of the first
class," rejoined Lieutenant Willow.
"What?" almost exploded the officer in charge. "Did you say that Mr.
Darrin fought with Mr. Treadwell, that husky top classman, and, losing
the decision on the count, insisted on fighting again the same evening?
Oh, say, what a fellow misses by being cooped up in an office like
this!"
"But--but the breach of regulations!" stammered the duty-mad lieutenant.
"My dear fellow, neither you nor I know anything about this
fight--officially. The Navy, after all, is a fighting machine. Do you
feel that the Navy can afford to lose a fighting man like that
youngster?"
So Lieutenant Willow left Lieutenant-Commander Stearns' presence, not
quite convinced he was performing his whole duty, but glad to bow to the
decision of a ranking officer.
Two days later Dave and Dan were surprised at being halted by
Lieutenant-Commander Stearns.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Darrin," came the pleasant greeting. "Good
afternoon, Mr. Dalzell. Mrs. Stearns and I would be greatly pleased if
you could take dinner with us. Couldn't you come next Sunday?"
The two midshipmen were astonished and delighted at this invitation.
While it was not uncommon for officers to invite midshipmen to their
homes, where there were so many midshipmen, it was as a rule only the
young men who made themselves prominent socially who captured these
coveted invitations. Darrin and Dalzell concealed their surprise, but
expressed their pleasure in accepting the gracious invitation.
On entering Mrs. Stearns' drawing room the next Sunday Mr. Darrin and
Mr. Dalzell were introduced to two pretty girls. Miss Flora Gentle was a
cousin of their hostess. She had visited Annapolis before, and, being
pretty and vivacious, at the same time kind and considerate, she had
many friends among the midshipmen. Marian Stevens, who had accompanied
her on this visit, was a direct contrast. Flora was blonde. Marian was
the dark, flashing type. She was spoiled and imperious, yet she had a
dashing, open way about her that made her a favorite among young people.
The two girls had heard of the double fight. Marian, therefore, was
pleased when she found that Dave was to be her dinner partner.
"He's handsome," thought the girl, "and he's brave and dashing. He'll
make his mark in the Navy. He doesn't know it yet, but he'll become
mine, and mine alone."
Miss Stevens was a calculating young person, and had already decided
that Navy life was the life for her and that she would marry into it.
At seventeen, she looked upon the officers as old men, even the
youngest of them, so was giving her time and her smiles to the
midshipmen. That the Navy pay is small did not trouble Maid Marian, as
she liked to be called, as on her twenty-first birthday she would come
into a considerable fortune of her own.
She exerted herself all through the Stearns' dinner to captivate Dave
Darrin. He, without diminution of love and loyalty to Belle Mead, was
glad to be on friendly terms with this dashing and sprightly girl.
Coffee was served in the drawing room. Several officers dropped in.
Marian, who wished no one to come between her and Dave for a while,
turned to her host.
"Mr. Stearns, do the regulations make it improper for Flora and me to
ask Mr. Darrin and Mr. Dalzell to take us for a stroll about the yard?"
she asked with a pretty air of deference. The "yard" includes all the
grounds belonging to the Naval Academy.
"They do not, Miss Marian," was the smiling response.
"With our hostess's approval we shall be charmed to grant any request
the young ladies make," ventured Dave, as Marian smiled into his eyes.
But Marian, the wily and experienced, found herself baffled during this
walk. Using all her cajoleries, she could bring him to a certain point
beyond which he would not go. As a matter of fact, Dave Darrin, secure
in his loyalty to Belle, did not perceive what Maid Marian was striving
to lead up to, but saw in her only a lively and interesting girl.
"I'll get you yet, Midshipman Darrin," she vowed to herself after they
had parted.
The gossip of a sweetheart in his home town which in time reached her
ears only made the girl more determined to get her way. Looking in the
mirror with satisfaction, she murmured:
"There'll be the added zest of making Midshipman Darrin forget the
distant face of that home girl."
Not on that visit did Maid Marian succeed in leading Dave beyond the
point of simple but sincere friendship. However, Miss Stevens could be
charming to whomsoever she wished, and before she left Annapolis she had
secured invitations to visit the wife of more than one of the officers.
CHAPTER XX
CONCLUSION
Christmas came and went, and soon after this the semi-annual
examinations were on in earnest. Some of the midshipmen failed and sadly
turned their faces homeward to make a place for themselves in some other
lane of life. Dan Dalzell, however, made good his promise, and by a
better margin than he had dared hope. Dave came through the examination
somewhat better than his chum. Both felt assured now that they would
round out the year with fair credit to themselves.
Marian Stevens came to Annapolis several times during the latter half of
the year, and as it is expected that the future officer shall have
social as well as Naval training, Dave Darrin met her often.
Exasperation that she could draw the young midshipman on only so far
soon changed in Miss Stevens to anger and chagrin. Still Dave, giving
prolonged thought to no girl except Belle Meade, saw in her only a
lively companion. Sometimes he was her dinner partner. Always at a dance
he danced with her more than once.
It was at one such dance that she looked up as they circled the room to
say:
"I wonder if you know, Mr. Darrin, how much I enjoy dancing with you."
"Not as much as I enjoy dancing with you," he replied smilingly. Just
then the music stopped suddenly and an officer called in a voice that
carried over the great floor of the gymnasium and over all the chatter:
"Ladies and gentlemen, one moment's attention, please!"
In an instant all was still.
"Ladies and gentlemen," continued the officer, "official permission has
been granted for taking a flashlight photograph of the scene to-night.
Will everybody please remain where he is until after the exposure has
been made?"
Dave and Marian had paused directly in front of the lens of the camera.
Maid Marian looked up and made a light, jesting remark, gazing straight
into the midshipman's eyes. Dave, smiling, bent forward to hear what she
said.
Just then came the flash, and the photographer, his work finished for
the time, gathered his paraphernalia together and left. The music
recommenced and the dancing proceeded.
Three weeks later that photograph was reproduced as a double-page
illustration in one of the prominent pictorial weeklies.
The day the magazine was on the newsstands Dan Dalzell bought a copy.
Entering their quarters with it in his hand he opened it at the
illustration and handed it to Dave.
"You and Miss Stevens show up better than any one else, Dave," remarked
Dan.
"The photograph is a good piece of work," was Dave's only comment. He
did not wish to express the annoyance he felt when he noted the
appearance of intimacy between him and Marian, whose beauty showed, even
in this reproduction. "I'd a bit rather Belle shouldn't see this paper,"
he admitted to himself.
"David, old boy, this picture would make a good exhibit in a
breach-of-promise suit."
"That's an unkind remark to make about a fine girl like Miss Stevens,"
said Dave coldly.
Dan stared, then went off, pondering.
Belle Meade, in her Gridley home, received one day a large, square, thin
package. She saw the mark of the Annapolis express office, and hastily
snatched up scissors to cut the string. Out came a huge photograph.
"A picture of an Annapolis dance! How thoughtful of Dave to send it to
me!" Then her eyes fell on two figures around which a ring had been
drawn in ink. They were Dave Darrin and a pretty girl. On the margin of
the card had been scrawled in bold letters:
"Your affair of the heart will bear close watching if you still
cherish!"
This was signed, contemptibly and untruthfully, "A Friend."
"Uh!" murmured Belle in hurt pride and loyalty. Then she said resolutely
to herself: "I will pay no attention to this. An anonymous communication
is always meant to hurt and to give a false impression."
But there was the picture before her eyes of Dave and the pretty girl in
seemingly great intimacy. So though she continued to write to the
midshipman and tried hard to make her letters sound as usual, in spite
of herself a coldness crept into them that Dave felt.
"She must have seen that pictorial weekly," thought the boy miserably.
But as Belle said nothing of this, he could not write of it.
The season was well along. Dave and Dan sent Belle Meade and Laura
Bentley invitations to one of the later spring dances.
"I wonder if she'll come or if she's tiring of me," thought Dave Darrin
bitterly.
But Belle answered, accepting the invitation for Laura and herself.
When Saturday afternoon came both midshipmen hurried to the hotel in the
town and sent up their cards. Mrs. Meade soon appeared, saying the girls
would be down shortly.
"Are they both well?" asked Dave. His tone was as one giving a
meaningless greeting, but in his heart he waited anxiously to hear what
her mother should say of Belle.
"Well, yes. But Belle has been moping around the house a great deal,
Dave, rather unlike her usual self," replied Mrs. Meade slowly.
If Mrs. Meade deplored this, Dave Darrin did not. It showed him at least
that the girl's apparent coldness was not caused by her interest in some
other young man.
But when the girls came in and Belle greeted him cordially, to be sure,
but with something of restraint, his heart sank again.
"What's the matter, Belle? Has something gone wrong?" asked Dave when
Dan was engaging the attention of Mrs. Meade and Laura.
"Nothing. Is all right with you?"
"Surely!"
"Dave, when we're alone I have something to show you. I fear you have an
enemy here."
"An enemy! Oh, no. But I shall be glad to see what you have to show me."
It was not long before, at a word from Dave, Dan took Mrs. Meade and
Laura out for a walk. It was then that Belle got the large photograph
with the two figures ringed in ink and showed it to Dave.
"Why, what does this mean? Some one must have taken a good deal of
trouble to secure this photograph. The picture was taken for a pictorial
weekly. One can get a photograph from which the cut is made, but it is
troublesome and possibly expensive!"
"You have an enemy, then; some one bent on hurting you?"
"I don't know who it could be. My, how angry Miss Stevens would be if
she knew of this!"
"Miss Stevens? Is that the girl?"
"Yes. She's visited here often this year. She knows a number of the
officers' wives. She's vivacious and always has a good time, but she's
nothing to me, Belle. You know that, don't you?"
"I have never doubted you, Dave. Let us tear this up. I thought at first
I'd not show it to you; then decided it was best not to begin concealing
things from you. But let us not think of the thing again."
"Belle, you're a thoroughbred!" and here the matter dropped as far as it
was between Dave Darrin and Belle Meade.
Miss Stevens was at the dance that evening. Though she tried hard to
make that impossible, Dave did not dance with her, nor did he introduce
her to Belle, though there again Marian tried to force this.
It would have been well for Marian if Dan Dalzell had been equally
circumspect.
This time it was Belle who contrived and got the introduction to the
other girl, but Marian was by no means reluctant, so it was that they
managed to get a few moments alone together when they had sent their
dance partners to get something for them.
"You are a friend of Dave's, aren't you?" asked Marian.
"Of Mr. Darrin's? Oh, yes, we've always known each other."
"Then you've been here to many of these dances?"
"Only two."
"Too bad you could not have been here oftener. This has been an
unusually brilliant season. Really, many of the young people have lost
their heads--or their hearts. I often wonder if these midshipmen have
sweethearts at home." This daring--and impertinent--remark was made
musingly but smilingly.
"These Annapolis affairs are never very serious, I imagine," Belle
observed calmly.
"On the contrary, most of the Navy marriages date back to an Annapolis
first meeting."
"Then you think it well to come often?"
"Unless one has other ways of keeping in touch," was the brazen reply.
"I have," said Belle sweetly. "I receive a good many souvenirs in the
course of a year. One last winter was a photograph." With the words
Belle gazed intently into Miss Stevens' eyes. Then she went on: "There
was an anonymous message written on it. It was a lying message, of
course, as anonymous messages always are, written in a coarse hand. Did
you ever study handwriting, Miss Stevens?"
Marian gasped, realizing she was out-maneuvered.
"This writing had all the characteristics of a woman whose instincts are
coarse, that of a treacherous though not dangerous person--"
"Here's Mr. Sanderson back. Will you excuse me, Miss Meade?" and Marian
fairly fled.
Belle told Dave she had found out who had sent the photograph, but
added:
"I wish you wouldn't ask me who it was, Dave. I can assure you that the
person who did it will never trouble us again," and as Dave did not like
to think evil of any one, he consented, and continued to think of Marian
Stevens, when he thought of her at all, as a jolly girl.
The annual examinations were approaching. Dan Dalzell was buried deep in
gloom. Dave Darrin kept cheerful outwardly, but doubts crept into his
heart.
The examinations over, Dave felt reasonably safe. But Dan's gloom
deepened, for he was sure he had failed in "skinny," as the boys termed
chemistry and physics. So it was that when the grades were posted Dave
scanned the D's in the list of third classmen who had passed. Dan, on
the other hand, turned instantly to what he termed the "bust list."
"Why, why, I'm not there!" he muttered.
"Look at the passing list, Danny," laughed Dave.
Unbelieving, Dan turned his eyes on the list and to his utter
astonishment found his name posted. True, in "skinny" he had a bare
passing mark. But in other subjects he was somewhat above the minimum.
"So you see, old man, we'll both be here next year as second classmen,"
said Dave jubilantly.
This was as Dave Darrin said, and what happened during this time may be
learned in a volume entitled, "DAVE DARRIN'S THIRD YEAR AT ANNAPOLIS;
or, Leaders of the Second Class Midshipmen."
THE END
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