Another week had passed.

By this time all of the new midshipmen had had a very strong taste of what the “grind” is like at the U.S.  Naval Academy.

If the lessons had seemed hard at the outset, the young men now regarded the tax demanded on their brains as little short of inhuman.

The lessons were long and hard.  No excuse of “unprepared” or otherwise was ever accepted in a section room.

The midshipman who had to admit himself “unprepared” immediately struck “zip,” or absolute zero as a marking for the day.  Many such marks would swiftly result in dragging even a bright man’s average down to a point where he would fall below two-five and be “unsat.”

“I thought we plugged along pretty steadily when we were in the High School,” sighed Dave Darrin, looking up from a book.  “Danny boy, a day’s work here is fully three times as hard as the severest day back at the High School.

“David, little giant,” retorted Dalzell, “your weak spot is arithmetic.  It’s just seven times as hard here as the worst deal that we ever got in the High School.”

“Oh, well,” retorted Darrin doggedly, “other men have stood this racket before us, and have graduated into the Navy.  If they did it, we can do it, too.  Mr. Trotter was telling me, yesterday, that the plebe year is the hardest year of all here.”

“Mr. Trotter is a highly intelligent individual, then,” murmured Dan Dalzell.

“He explained that the first year is the hardest just because the new man has never before learned how to study.  After our first year here, he says, we’ll have the gait so that we can go easily at the work given us.”

“If we ever live through the first year,” murmured Dan disconsolately.  “As for me, I’m hovering at the ‘unsat.’ line all the time, and constantly fearing that I’m going to be unseated.  If I could see myself actually getting through the first year here, with just enough of an average to save me, I’d be just as happy as ever a fourth class man can hope to be here.”

“Remember the old Gridley spirit, Danny boy,” coaxed Dave.  “We can’t be licked ­just because we don’t know how to take a licking.  We’re going to get through here, Danny, and we’re going to become officers in the Navy.  It’s tough on the way ­that’s all.”

“And we green young idiots,” sighed Dalzell, “thought the life here was just a life of parading, with yachting thrown in on the side.  We were going to feel swell in our gold lace, and puff out our chests under the approving smiles of the girls.  We were going to lead the german ­and, say, Dave, what were some of the other fool things we expected to find happiness in doing at Annapolis?

“It served us right,” grunted Darrin, “if we imagined that we were going to get through without real work.  Danny boy, I don’t believe there’s a single thing in life ­worth having ­a fellow can get without working hard for it!”

“There goes the call for mathematics, Dave.  We’ll tumble out and see whether we can get a two-six today.

“Or a two-seven,” suggested Darrin hopefully.  “My, but how far away a full four seems!

“Did anyone ever get a full four?” asked Dan, opening his eyes very wide.

As each, with his uniform cap set squarely on, and his book and papers carried in left hand, turned out, he found the corridor to be swarming with midshipmen fully as anxious as were this pair.

A minute later hundreds of midshipmen were forming by classes.  Then the classes parted into sections and the little groups marched away in many directions, all going at brisk military gait.  Dave got through better, that forenoon, than usual.  He made a three-one, while Dalzell scored a two-eight.

Then this section, one of many, marched back.

As Dave and Dan swung down the corridor, and into their own room, they halted, just inside the door, and came quickly to attention.  Lieutenant Hall, the officer in charge for the day, stood there, and with him the midshipman who served as assistant cadet officer of the day.

“Mr. Darrin,” spoke Lieutenant Hall severely, “here is your dress jacket on the floor, and with dust ground into it.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Dave, saluting.  “But I left it on its proper hook ­I am sure of that.”

Up came Dan’s hand in quick salute.

“May I speak, sir?”

“Yes, Mr. Dalzell,” replied the officer in charge.

“I remember seeing Mr. Darrin’s coat hanging properly on its hook, sir, just before we marched off to math. recitation.”

“Did you leave the room, Mr. Dalzell, after Mr. Darrin, or even with him?” questioned Lieutenant Hall.

“No-o, sir.  I stepped out just ahead of Mr. Darrin.”

“That is all, then, Mr. Dalzell.  Mr. Darrin, there is a pair of your shoes.  They are in place, but one of them is muddy.”

Dave glanced at the shoes uneasily, a flush coming to his face.

“I am certain, sir, that both shoes were in proper condition when I left to go to the last recitation.”

“Then how do you account for the dust-marked dress jacket on the floor, and the muddy shoe, Mr. Darrin?”

“I can think of no explanation to offer, sir.”

“Nor can I imagine any excuse,” replied Lieutenant Hall courteously, yet skeptically.

Lieutenant Hall made a further inspection of the room, then turned to Dave.

“Mr. Darrin, you will put yourself on the report for these two examples of carelessness of your uniform equipment.”

“Very good, sir.”

Saluting, Dave crossed to the study table, laying his book and papers there.  Then, once more saluting, he passed Lieutenant Hall and made his way to the office of the officer in charge.

Taking one of the blanks, and a pen, Dave Darrin filled out the complaint against himself, and turned it over.

“Dave, you didn’t leave your things in any such shape as that?” burst from Dan as soon as Dave had returned to his room.

“I didn’t do it ­of course I didn’t,” came impatiently from Darrin.

“Then who did?”

“Some fellow may have done it for a prank.”

Dan shook his head, replying, stubbornly: 

“I don’t believe that any fellow in the Naval Academy has a sense of humor that would lead him to do a thing like that, just as a piece of what he would consider good-natured mischief.  Dave, this sort of report against you on pap means demerits.”

“Fortunately,” smiled Darrin, “the pap sheet is so clear of my name that I can stand a few demerits without much inconvenience.”

But at breakfast formation, the next morning, Dave’s name was read off with twenty demerits.

“That’s a huge shame,” blazed forth Dan, as soon as the chums were back in their room, preparing to march to their first recitation.

“Oh, well, it can’t be helped ­can it?” grimaced Dave.

Within the next fortnight, however, Darrin’s equipment and belongings were found to be in bad shape no less than five other times.  With a few demerits which he had received in the summer term Dave now stood up under one hundred and twenty demerits.

“I’m allowed only three hundred demerits for the year, and two hundred by January will drop me,” muttered Dave, now becoming thoroughly uneasy.

For, by this time, he was certain that some unknown enemy had it “in for him.”  Darrin felt almost morally certain that some one ­and it must be a midshipman ­was at the bottom these troubles.  Yet, though he and Dan had done all they could think of to catch the enemy, neither had had the least success in this line.

“Eighty demerits more to go,” muttered Dave, “and the superintendent will recommend to the Secretary of the Navy that I be dropped for general inaptitude.  It seems a bit tough, doesn’t it, Danny boy?”

“It’s infamous!” blazed Dalzell.  “Oh, if I could only catch the slick rascal who is at the bottom of all this!”

“But both of us together don’t seem to be able to catch him,” replied Darrin dejectedly.  “Oh, well, perhaps there won’t be any more of it.  Of course, I am already deprived of all privileges.  But then, I never care to go into Annapolis, and I am never invited to officers’ quarters, anyway, so the loss of privileges doesn’t mean so very much.  It’s the big danger of losing my chance to remain here at the Naval Academy that is worrying me.”

Yet outwardly, to others, Dave Darrin was patient.  His surplus irritation he vented in extraordinary effort in the gymnasium, where he was making a remarkable record for himself.

But of course his worries were reflected in his studies and recitations.  Dave was dropping steadily.  He seemed soon destined to reach the “wooden section” in math.  This “wooden section” is the section composed of the young men who stand lowest of all in a given study.  The men of the “wooden section” are looked upon as being certain of dismissal when the semiannual examinations come along.

Now, for five days, things went along more in a better groove.  Nothing happened to Darrin, and he was beginning to hope that his very sly persecutor had ceased to annoy him for good.

On the sixth day, however, the chums returned from recitation in English.

“Nothing seems to be wrong here,” remarked Dave, with a sigh of satisfaction.

“Umf ­umf!” sniffed Dan, standing still in the middle of the room.  “Doesn’t it smell a little as though some one had been smoking in here?”

“Don’t even suggest the thing!” begged Dave turning white at the thought.

Tap-tap! sounded at the door.  In walked the white-gloved cadet assistant officer of the day.

“Mr. Darrin, you will report immediately to the officer in charge.”

“Very good, sir,” Dave answered.

This was again Lieutenant Hall’s day to be in charge.  Dave walked into that gentleman’s office, saluted, reported his presence under orders and then stood at attention.

“Mr. Darrin,” began Lieutenant Hall, “I had occasion to inspect your room.  The air was quite thick with tobacco smoke.  I felt it necessary to make a very thorough search.  In the pocket of your rain-coat I found” ­Lieutenant Hall produced from his desk a pouch of tobacco and a well-seasoned pipe ­“these.”

The officer in charge looked keenly at Darrin, who had turned almost deathly white.  Certainly Dave had the appearance of one wholly guilty.

“Have you anything to say, Mr. Darrin?” continued the officer in charge.

“I have never, in my life, sir, smoked or used tobacco in any form,” Darrin truthfully answered.

“Then how did these articles come to be in your possession?”

“They were not in my possession, sir, were they?” Darrin asked, with the utmost respect.

Lieutenant Hall frowned perceptibly.

“Mr. Darrin, do not attempt any quibble.  The circumstances under which these articles were found place them sufficiently in your possession.  What have you to say that will clear you?”

“I can offer, sir, the testimony of my roommate, Mr. Dalzell, who will declare most positively that he has never known me to use tobacco.”

“Did Mr. Dalzell leave your room with you when you went to your last recitation?”

“No, sir; he left fifteen minutes before, by permission, to go to his locker in the gymnasium to look over certain articles there.”

“Then you are unable to call your roommate to support your assertion that you did not smoke before going with your section to recitation in English?”

“I have only my unsupported word, sir, as a midshipman and a gentleman, to offer.”

“Under almost all circumstances, Mr. Darrin, a midshipman’s word of honor should be sufficient.  But you have been reported several times of late, and with apparent justice.  You will make in writing, Mr. Darrin, at once, such report as you wish to hand in on this incident, and the report against you will be considered in the usual way.”

Dave returned to his room.  Though he was discouraged his face looked grim, and his air was resolute.

Taking pen and paper he began to prepare his report on this latest charge.

Having finished and signed, Dave next picked up a bit of exercise paper and began to figure.

“What are you doing, old chap?” asked Dan sympathetically.

“My head is in too much of a whirl for me to trust myself to any mental arithmetic,” Darrin answered.  “I have been figuring how much further I have to go.  First offense of having tobacco in possession calls for twenty-five demerits.  That brings the total up to one hundred and forty-five.  Dave, I have a lease of life here amounting to fifty-four more demerits in this term.  The fifty-fifth signs my ticket home!

“The next trick of this kind attempted,” cried Dalzell, his face glowing with anger, “must sign, instead, the home ticket of the rascal who is at the bottom of all this!”

“But how?” demanded Dave blankly.  “He has been entirely too slick to allow himself to be caught.”