“Darrin, I hope you don’t hold me in any way responsible for that fellow Henkel’s actions.

“Why should I?” asked Dave, turning and looking into the eyes of Midshipman Brimmer.

“I know that, for a while, there was hard feeling between us,” continued Brimmer seriously.  “It took me a long time to get it out of my stubborn head that you were the one responsible for having our crowd ragged by the watchman the night of the spread in Annapolis.  Even after Farley changed his mind it took me a long time to believe that he was right.”

“I forgot that whole matter long ago,” replied Darrin.

“Then will you accept my tardy apology, and let us be friends?” urged Brimmer, holding out his hand.

It was not Dave Darrin’s way to hold a grudge forever.  He extended his own hand to take Brimmer’s.

“And I hope you’ll let me know you better,” continued Brimmer, turning to Dan Dalzell.

“Most people who know me at all think they know me too well,” laughed Dan, but he held out his hand.

Perhaps, in other walks of life, the chums might have been more wary about accepting Brimmer’s suddenly proffered friendship, as they stood in the open air just after dinner one November day.  The weather was so fine and mild that it seemed a shame to be cooped up between walls.  Back in the High School days, for instance, Dave and Dan would have been more cautious in accepting such an offer of friendship.  But at the U.S.  Naval Academy the atmosphere is wholly different.  The midshipmen are ranked as gentlemen, and all are so taken on trust unless they betray themselves as dishonorable.  Ninety-nine per cent of the young men are earnest, honest and wholly aboveboard.

After that, during the next two or three weeks, Brimmer cultivated the acquaintance of Darrin and Dalzell at every possible opportunity.  Often, in the evening, he came hastening to their room for a short visit after the release bell had sounded at 9.30.  When he called, Brimmer always remained until the warning call just before taps.

“It took you a long while to find out that Dave Darrin is white enough to shake hands with,” laughed Farley, one day.

“As I remember, it took you quite a little while, also, to find it out,” laughed Brimmer.  “I admit that I am slow at forming my friendships.  But there’s no mistake about Darrin, when you get to know him.  He’s about the finest fellow in the class.”

“He certainly is,” nodded Farley heartily.

Being shorn of the long list of unjustly-given demerits that had stood against his name, Darrin was now in the first conduct grade.  So was Dan.  That gave to both considerable in the way of privileges.  On Saturdays and Sundays, for instance, they were at liberty to accept invitations to call on or dine at the houses of officers and their families.  This privilege, while pleasant to possess, amounted to little, for Dave and Dan had been too busy over their studies to have any opportunity to attract social notice.

As to dancing, fourth class men do not, by tradition, attend any of the midshipmen’s hops, which are reserved for upper class men.

Neither is a plebe midshipman expected to be seen escorting young ladies.  In fact, the plebe has no social pleasures within the academy walls.

Outside, however, it is different.  If the fourth class men are acquainted with young ladies in the town of Annapolis they may visit them on Saturday afternoons when so invited.

Here, again, Dave and Dan found no delight.  For they became acquainted with none of the girls of Annapolis.

They could, however, on Saturday afternoon secure permission to go into the town.  Any change outside of the Academy walls now became welcome, though our young midshipmen had no other form of pleasure than merely to stroll through the streets of the town and occasionally regale themselves with a dish of ice-cream or a glass of soda at Wiegard’s.

Brimmer, one Saturday afternoon, when strolling through the town, discovered a new little shop on Main Street.

This was a little store that had just been fitted up.  Some fruit was displayed for sale, though the main business of the place appeared to be the dispensing of various temperance drinks.

On the sign over the door the proprietor’s first name was given as “Tony.”  The second name was an unpronounceable Greek one.

Being thirsty Brimmer stepped inside.

“Are you Tony?” he asked of the swarthy young man behind the counter.

“Yes, sare,” grinned Tony.  “What you drink?”

Brimmer looked over the stock, selected a bottle of ginger ale and paid for it.

“Business good?” asked the midshipman.

“No, sare; ver’ bad,” replied Tony sadly.

“Oh, well, it will pick up by-and-by.”

“I hope so, sare.  But when I come here I think maybe the midsheepmen come see me offen.  You, sare, first midsheepman who came here.”

“You have a neat little place,” continued Brimmer.  “And this ginger ale,” holding up his glass, “is good.  You’ll have trade enough by-and-by.”

“You tell other midsheepmen they come here, sare?” asked Tony hopefully.

“Why, yes; I think perhaps I can send you a bit of trade,” replied Brimmer.  The young man’s father was a politician, and a prosperous one.  The son had learned the wisdom of making friends wherever he could, since there could be no telling when a friend anywhere might be useful.

“You come with me, sare,” urged Tony, taking a gentle hold on Brimmer’s arm, and leading him to the rear of the store.

Tony threw open a door, revealing a rear room in which were three tables.

“Maybe midsheepmen like play cards, sometimes,” suggested Tony, with a grin.

“Great!” cried Brimmer.  “Yes; sometimes the fellows do like to know a quiet little place where they can have a good game without a discipline officer butting in.  Good enough; I’ll tell some of the fellows about this place; but you must keep it quiet, and not let anyone else into that room.”

“For midsheepmen on’y,” promised Tony solemnly.

“Good enough, then,” smiled Mr. Brimmer.  “I’ll bring you a party as soon as possible.”

“Then you make me your frien’, sare,” protested the Greek.

As Brimmer went strolling along the street, after that, a plan began rapidly to hatch in his mind.  He thought he saw how Tony could made a most valuable ally.

As luck would have it, Brimmer was not long in meeting three midshipmen of rather wild tendencies.  To them he proposed a quiet little game of cards.  He led his classmates back to Tony’s.  Here they regaled themselves with ginger ale, then passed on into the rear room.  For more than two hours the midshipmen remained here.  Occasionally they called for more of the temperance drinks.  As they left Brimmer passed Tony a two-dollar bill, for this midshipman disregarded the regulations in that he frequently received money from home and was always well supplied.

“Thank you, sare,” cried Tony, bowing very low, indeed.

The following Saturday Brimmer returned to the little shop with a small party of friends.

Late that afternoon Tony was richer by a few dollars.

“You one ver’ good frien’, sare,” protested the delighted Tony.  “Me?  I your ver’ good frien’, too.  I do anything for you, sare ­try me!”

“I’m getting Tony about where I want him,” thought Mr. Brimmer.  “Just a little more help to him, and then I’ll spring my idea on him.”

Thanksgiving had gone by, and now the Christmas Holidays were nearing.  Brimmer was playing his game slowly, and without the slightest risk to himself.  Tony must take all the risk.  If the Greek got into any trouble Brimmer could deny all knowledge of the matter.

One Saturday afternoon, just before Christmas Midshipman Brimmer came down Main Street, looked in and found the Greek standing alone in his shop.

“Howdy, Tony,” was the midshipman’s greeting, as he sauntered into the store.

“Hullo, my good frien’, sare.”

“Wish you a Merry Christmas, Tony.”

“I don’ know, sare, I don’ know,” replied the Greek, shaking his head.

“Why, isn’t business good now, Tony?”

“You do ver’ much, my frien’, to help make it better,” replied Tony, shaking his head, “but still I not make much money.”

“Are you hard up at Christmas, Tony?” asked Brimmer, with pretended sympathy.

“Oh, yes, sare; all time hard up.”

At that moment Brimmer’s gleaming eyes saw Dave Darrin and Dan Dalzell passing on the other side of the street.

“Quick, Tony!  Get a look at my friends over there!” whispered Brimmer.  “Take such a good look that you will know them again anywhere.  Now, it’s the one on the inside, especially.  Note him sharply, Tony.”

“I never mistake him again, sare, eff I see him,” replied the Greek gravely.

“Do you see many of these ten-dollar bills nowadays, Tony?” questioned Brimmer, carelessly displaying a banknote.

The Greek shook his head wistfully.

“This is yours now, Tony; and twice as much more afterwards, if you do what I want of you.  It’s a good joke that I want to play on a midshipman down at the Academy.”

“A joke, eh?” repeated the Greek.  “Then, sare, my frien’, it can’t be anything so ver’ bad, eef it only a joke.”

“Oh, it isn’t anything bad,” Brimmer lied cheerfully.  “But that fellow played a warm one on me, and I want to pay him back.”

“I understand, sare, my ver’ good frien’.”

Inside of five minutes Tony understood very much better.  Still, the Greek saw no real harm in what he now engaged himself to do.

That night Tony slept with Brimmer’s ten-dollar note under his pillow.  Dave Darrin slept as soundly as ever, unconscious of harm hanging over his head.

Midshipman Brimmer did much gleeful chuckling after taps, as he lay on the bed in the room that Henkel had once shared with him.

“Now, let’s see anyone get a chance to bring this job back to me!” laughed Brimmer.  “And goodby, Darrin!  The Naval Academy won’t know you much longer!”