Dave, I'm getting nervous! "Is that the best way you can find to enjoy yourself?" demanded the taller boy. "But I am, Dave - dreadfully nervous!" insisted Dan Dalzell positively. "Well, you'll have to conceal it, then. The doctors at the United States Naval Academy won't pass any nervous wrecks," laughed Dave Darrin. "Don't you understand?" demanded Dan, in a hurt voice. "The nearer we get to Annapolis the more nervous I'm getting." "You'd better drop off, then," hinted Dave ironically, "and take the next car back to Odenton and Baltimore. What earthly good would a Naval officer be who was...

I'm going to play quarter-back, declared Drayne stolidly. "You?" demanded Captain Dick Prescott, looking at the aspirant in stolid wonder. "Of course," retorted Drayne. "It's the one position I'm best fitted for of all on the team." "Do you mean that you're better fitted for that post than anyone else on the team?" inquired Prescott. "Or that it's the position that best fits your talents?" "Both," replied Drayne. Dick Prescott glanced out over Gridley High School's broad athletic field. A group of the middle men of the line, and their substitutes, had gathered around Coach Morton.

I say you did! cried Fred Ripley, hotly. Dick Prescott's cheeks turned a dull red as he replied, quietly, after swallowing a choky feeling in his throat: "I have already told you that I did not do it." "Then who did do the contemptible thing?" insisted Ripley, sneeringly. Fully forty boys, representing all the different classes at the Gridley High School, stood looking on at this altercation in the school grounds. Half a dozen of the girls, too, hovered in the background, interested, or curious, though not venturing too close to what might turn out to be a fight in hot blood. "If I knew,"...

Football is all at sixes and sevens, this year, muttered Dave Darrin disconsolately. "I can tell you something more than that," added Tom Reade mysteriously. "What?" asked Dick Prescott, looking at Reade with interest, for it was unusual for Reade o employ that tone or air. "Two members of the Athletics Committee have intimated to Coach Morton that they'd rather see football passed by this year." "What?" gasped Dick. He was staring hard now. "Fact," nodded Tom. "At least, I believe it to be a fact." "There must be something wrong with that news," put in Greg Holmes anxiously.

Clang! "Attention, please." The barely audible droning of study ceased promptly in the big assembly room of the Gridley High School. The new principal, who had just stepped into the room, and who now stood waiting behind his flat-top desk on the platform, was a tall, thin, severe-looking man of thirty-two or three. For this year Dr. Carl Thornton, beloved principal for a half-score of years, was not in command at the school. Ill health had forced the good old doctor to take at least a year's rest, and this stranger now sat in the Thornton chair. "Mr. Harper," almost rasped out Mr. Cantwell's...

Look, Tom! There is a real westerner! Harry Hazeltons eyes sparkled, his whole manner was one of intense interest. "Eh?" queried Tom Reade, turning around from his distant view of a sharp, towering peak of the Rockies. "Theres the real hing in the way of a westerner," Harry Hazelton insisted in a voice in which there was some awe. "I dont believe he is," retorted Tom skeptically. "Youre going to say, I suppose, that the man is just some freak escaped from the pages of a dime novel?" demanded Harry. "No; he looks more like a hostler on...

Do you care to go out this evening, Danny boy? asked Dave Darrin, stepping into his chum's room. "I'm too excited and too tired," confessed Ensign Dalzell. "The first thing I want is a hot bath, the second, pajamas, and the third, a long sleep." "Too bad," sighed Dave. "I wanted an hour's stroll along Broadway." "Don't let my indolence keep you in," urged Dalzell. "If you're going out, then I can have the first hot bath, and be as long about it as I please. Then I'll get into pajamas and ready for bed. By that time you'll be in and we can say good night' to each other." "I feel a bit mean...

Naval Academy, did not finish what he was about to say. While speaking he had closed the door behind him and had stepped into the quarters occupied jointly by himself and by Midshipman Daniel Dalzell, also of the first or upper class. "Danny boy isn't here. Visiting, probably," mused Dave Darrin, after having glanced into the alcove bedroom at his right hand. It was a Saturday night, early in October. The new academic year at the Naval Academy was but a week old. There being no "hop" that night the members of the brigade had their time to spend as they pleased. Some of the young men would...

So Tom Reade and Harry Hazelton have been here? demanded Midshipman Dave Darrin. That handsome young member of the brigade of midshipmen at the United States Naval Academy at Annapolis was now in mufti, or cits, - meaning, in other words, that he was out of his Naval uniform and attired in the conventional clothing of a young American when calling on his sweetheart. It will make the situation even clearer to the reader to explain that Dave was back in the home town, on his September leave, after just having completed his second summer practice cruise with the three upper classes from...

There's just one thing that I keep thinking about on a day like this, Dave Darrin sighed contentedly. "What's that?" Tom Reade wanted to know. "Supper?" Darrin turned, favoring Reade with a flash of disgust from his large, dark eyes. "I'm still waiting for the information," insisted Tom after a short pause. "You may as well wait," retorted Dave. "You wouldn't understand what I feel, anyway. Any fellow who can keep his mind on supper, on a grand June day like this -" "I imagine that you'll keep your mind on the meal when you reach the table," predicted Tom, grinning. "That'll be time enough,"...