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"And all I'm afraid of is that they can," laughed Dick. "Can't we, though -just!" mocked Dan, dancing a brief little step. "Wait until you take a stick to our work, and then see where you'll live!" "Cut it, Danny, little lion-fighter, cut it!" warned Dave Darrin, with quiet good nature. "You know what they tell us all the time, down at Crabtown -that 'brag never scuttled a fighting ship yet.
"Dear girl, I'm afraid you don't understand our way of making up dance cards at Crabtown." "Where?" "Crabtown. That's our local name for Annapolis." "Gracious! Let me get out quickly and get that notebook!" "At midshipmen's hops the fellow who drags the " "Gold brick," supplied Belle, resignedly. "No not for worlds!
"The same old pair, I know!" cried Dave Darrin heartily. "And we think as much of you two as ever, even if you are in the poor old Army," grinned Dan. "We've come all the way up from Crabtown to teach you how to play ball. The knowledge will probably prove useful to you some day." "Why, Dick," protested Holmes in mock astonishment, "these cabin boys seem to think they can really play ball!"
I love Peggy and want to be with her; I love Aunt Janet and old Crabtown and everything connected with it; I've always kept neck-and-neck with Ralph in his work and I hate the thought of dropping out of it, but, oh, I do want to be with Peggy."
Dan's happiest moments, on the other hand, were when he was engaged in hunting the old High School fellows, or such of them as were now at home. For many of them had entered colleges or technical schools. Day by day Belle jotted down in her notebook more specimens of midshipman slang. "I shall soon feel that I can reel off the language like a native of Crabtown," she confided laughingly to Dare.
At the journey's end two well-rested midshipmen joined the throng of others at Crabtown. "Oh, you heap!" sighed Dan Dalzell dismally. He sat in his chair, in their new quarters in Bancroft Hall, United States Naval Academy, gazing in mock despair at the pile of new books that he had just drawn.
The older haunt, once so bright with fashionable pleasure-making, was left to the sole illumination of "St. John Light" and the mongrel life of a bunch of cabins branded Crabtown, and became, in popular superstition at least, the yearly rendezvous of the voodoos.
"May we come in?" called Prescott, knocking on the door of the middies' quarters. "Who's there?" called a voice. Then the Navy coach, in uniform, opened the door. "Oh, come in, gentlemen," called the coach, holding out his hand. "And let me congratulate you, Prescott and Holmes, on the very fine game that you two had a star part in putting up for the nine from Crabtown."
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