Midshipman Farley had the bad judgment to stop that blow with the side of his neck.

Across the room he spun, going down in a heap, his head under the study table.

Dave Darrin looked on with a cool smile, while Farley lay there for an instant, then scrambled out and up onto his feet.

But two or three other new midshipmen sprang in between Dave and his accuser.

“We can’t have a fight here, Farley,” urged two or three in the same breath.

“Let me at the sneak!” sputtered Farley who was boiling over with rage.

“Yes; let him at me,” voiced Dave coolly, “and I’ll send him into the middle of next term!”

But three of the midshipmen clung to Farley, who furiously strove to fling them off.

“Let me at him!” insisted the accuser.  “He struck me.”

“You struck at him first, and didn’t land,” replied one of the peacemakers.  “You go on with a fight here, and you’ll bring the officer in charge down on us all.  Farley, if you feel you’ve a grievance you are privileged to take recourse to the regular code in such matters.”

“The fellow has lied about me, and I’m ready to settle it with him now, or outside by appointment,” broke in Dave, speaking as coolly as before.

“He calls me ‘fellow’ and ‘liar,’” panted Farley, turning white.  “Do you think I can stand that?

“You don’t have to,” replied one of those who held Farley back.  “Send Darrin a challenge, in the regular way.”

“I will!” panted Midshipman Farley.  “And I’ll hammer him all over and out of the meeting-place!”

“Then it’s settled for a challenge,” interposed Dan Dalzell.  “That will suit us all right.  We’ll be ready whenever the challenge comes.  And now, to prevent getting a lot of decent fellows into a needless scrape, Darrin and I will withdraw.”

Dan took Dave by the arm, and both turned to leave the room.

“You ­” began Farley hoarsely, when another midshipman clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Shut up Farley!  Save all of your undoubted grit for the field, when you two meet.”

The door closed softly behind Darrin and Dalzell.

“Why didn’t you let me at the sneak?” bellowed Farley, released, now, from interfering hands.

“See here, Farley,” advised one of his friends, “cool down and keep your face in a restful attitude.  Darrin behaved twice as well as you did.  If you don’t look out you’ll lose the sympathy of the class.  Just keep cool, and restrain your tongue from wagging until you’ve met Darrin.  Don’t try to start the row again, this side of the field where you meet.  If you do, you’ll get many a cold shoulder.”

Other midshipmen present spoke in the same vein.  Farley, who wanted to be popular at all times, presently allowed himself to be advised.

Of course the news of the meeting, and of the more emphatic one to come spread fast through Bancroft Hall.  There is an unknown wireless that carries all such news on wings through the brigade of midshipmen.

Within half an hour Henkel and Page brought the challenge to Dave Darrin.  Dan, in the meantime, had been busy, and had induced Midshipman Rollins, of the fourth class, to act with him as second.  Rollins, indeed, needed little urging.  He was eager to see the fight.

Tyson, of the second class, was secured as referee, while Trotter, of the third class, gladly agreed to act as time-keeper.

The time was set for an hour before taps, as, on this evening, it would be easy for all the young men involved to slip away and be back in time for taps.

“I won’t let the thing run over two rounds,” promised Farley, who had an excellent idea of himself as a fighter.

That afternoon Dave and Farley were obliged to pass each other.  Dave did not even seem to know that his enemy was around.  Farley, on the other hand, glared ferociously at Darrin as he passed.

Midshipman Trotter certainly would have come around to offer Dave friendly counsel, had not his position as one of the officials of the fight restrained him.

Dave, by his prompt action, had veered many of his classmates around to his side.  The bulk of opinion in the class, however, was that Farley would make good in his boasts of victory.  He was a heavily-built yet very active young man, who had shown great promise in boxing bouts in the gymnasium.

At half-past eight that evening, while scores of cadets strolled through the grounds, thinking of the academic term to begin on the morrow, some little groups made their way more directly across the grounds.  Many interested glances followed them.

Over in the direction of the Old Government Hospital stepped Dave, accompanied by Dan and Rollins.

They were the first to arrive, though a few minutes later Midshipmen Tyson and Trotter appeared.

“Farley doesn’t seem in as a big hurry as he was,” remarked Dan Dalzell laughingly.

It was not, in fact, until close to the time that Farley, Henkel and Page came on the scene.

“We want to put this mill through briskly, gentlemen,” announced Midshipman Tyson, in a low tone.  “Both principals will be good enough to get ready as rapidly as possible.”

Dave Darrin had been only awaiting the order.  Now he took off his cap and uniform blouse, handing them to Dan, who folded the coat and laid it on the ground, placing the cap on top of it.

By this time Darrin had pulled his shirt over his head.  Dan took that also, while Rollins produced a belt which Dave strapped about his waist with care.

Then he stepped forward, like a young war horse, sniffing the battle.

Farley was more leisurely in his preparations, though he did not appear nervous.  In fact, Farley wasn’t a bit nervous.  But he meant “wind up” the fight in such short order that there would be an abundance of time to spare.

“There’s no use in giving you any advice, old fellow,” murmured Dan.  “You’ve been in too many fights, back in the good old High School days of Dick & Co.”

“I can handle myself,” nodded Dave, “unless Farley proves to be a veritable wonder.”

“He certainly thinks he is,” warned Rollins.  “And a good many of the fellows believe Farley to be the best man of the class in this line of work.”

“They won’t think so much longer,” returned Dan, as simply as though merely stating a proved fact.  “You see, Rollins, you never had the great good luck to get your kid training with Dick & Co.  Our old crowd always went in to win just because we were blind to the idea that there was any possible chance of losing.”

“Did you always make good?” asked Rollins curiously.

“Just about always, I reckon,” nodded Dan confidently.

“You must have been a wonder-bunch then,” smiled Rollins.

Farley was ready, now, and coming forward with a second on either side of him.

“Step in Dave old fellow.” directed Dan.

Dave came forward to where Midshipman Tyson awaited them.

“Gentlemen,” announced the referee, “this is to be a fight to the finish, bare hands.  As time is short you are urged to mix it up briskly to a conclusion.  The usual ring rules will guide the officials of this meeting.  Hand-shaking will dispensed with.  Are you ready?”

“Ready!” hissed Farley venomously.

“Ready,” nodded Dave coolly.

“Time!”

With a yell Farley leaped in.  He didn’t want it to last more than one round, if it could be helped.

The fury of his assault drove the lighter Darrin back.  Farley followed up with more sledge-hammers.  He was certainly a dangerous man, with a hurricane style.  He was fast and heavy, calculated to bear down a lighter opponent.

Before that assortment of blows Dave Darrin was forced to resort to footwork.

“Stand up and fight!” jeered Farley harshly as he wheeled and wheeled, still throwing out his hammer blows.  “Don’t play sneak on the field!”

Dave didn’t even flush.  Trained with Dick Prescott at Gridley High School, Darrin was too old a hand to be taunted into indiscretion.

In spite of his footwork, however, Farley succeeded in landing upon him twice, though neither blow did much damage.

Then a third blow landed, against the side of Darrin’s head, that jarred him.  It was all he could do to stand off Farley until he recovered his wits enough to dodge once more.

Yet, all the while, Darrin was watching his chance.