"How can a midshipman and gentleman act in that way?" The voice of Midshipman David Darrin, United States Navy, vibrated uneasily as he turned to his comrades. "It's a shame-that's what it is," quivered Mr. Farley, also of the third class at the United States Naval Academy. "But the question is," propounded Midshipman Dan Dalzell, "what are we going to do about it?"

"Now, then, Danny boy, we---" First Classman Dave Darrin, midshipman at the United States 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.

"Dan," whispered Dave Darrin, Ensign, United States Navy, to his chum and brother officer, "do you see that fellow with the green Alpine hat and the green vest?" "Yes," nodded Dan Dalzell. "Watch him." "Why?" "He's a powerful brute, and it looks as though he's spoiling for a fight." "You are not going to oblige him, are you?" asked Dalzell in a whisper, betraying surprise.

"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.

"Anything sighted?" called Lieutenant-Commander Dave Darrin as he stepped briskly from the little chart-room back of the wheel-house and turned his face toward the bridge. "Nothing, sir, all afternoon," responded Lieutenant Dan Dalzell from the bridge. Dave ran lightly up the steps, returning, as he reached the bridge, the salutes of Dalzell, executive officer, and of Ensign Phelps, officer of the deck. "It's been a dull afternoon, then?" queried Darrin, his eyes viewing the sea, whose waters rose and fell in gentle swells.

"I am delighted to have had the privilege of meeting you, Miss Chapin," said Ensign Dave Darrin, lifting his uniform cap and bowing low at the end of the brief conversation. "And my thanks to you, Captain Chapin, for having afforded us the great pleasure." Ensign Dan Dalzell, U. S. Navy, delivered himself in similar fashion. The two young naval officers turned and were about to resume their stroll over the Punta de Espana, or Spanish bridge, which, crossing the Pasig River, separates Old Manila from New."

"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."

"It sounds like the greatest cruise ever " declared Danny Grin, enthusiastically, as he rose and began to pace the narrow limits of the chart-room of the destroyer commanded by his chum, Lieutenant-Commander Dave Darrin. "It is undoubtedly the most dangerous work we've ever undertaken," Darrin observed thoughtfully. "All the better " answered Dan lightly.

"Master Prescott, what are you doing?" The voice of Mr. E. Dutton Jones rasped out rather sharply, jarring on the generally studious air of the eighth-grade room of the Central Grammar School. "What were you doing, Master Prescott?" repeated the stern voice of the principal. Dick Prescott had glanced up, somewhat startled and confused. By this time every boy's and girl's eyes had turned away from text-books toward Dick Prescott. "I was whispering, sir," confessed Dick. "Oh, was that all?" demanded the somewhat ironical voice of Mr. E. Dutton Jones, more commonly known as "Old Dut."