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Updated: May 21, 2025
At that instant it was Midshipman Pennington's face, not Dave Darrin's, that was really worth studying. "Now how did the shameless greaser work this!" Pennington pondered uneasily. But, of course, he couldn't ask. He could only hope that, presently, he would hear the whole story from some other man in the class.
"I shan't mind getting whacked if it is done up in good shape. It's only this near-whipping to which I object." "Hush!" warned Farley. "Here comes Edgerton." Midshipman Edgerton, looking very much puzzled, stepped over to Dave Darrin's corner. "Darrin," began the referee in a friendly tone, "Tread doesn't like the idea of fighting you again to-night." "Didn't he say he would?" demanded Darrin.
Now, he sat up, reaching for the jacket. "Gracious but it's cold!" gasped Dan, as the chill struck him. "Shut up!" growled Dave Darrin's drowsy voice. "Don't wake everybody." "What's the matter?" chimed in Dick Prescott sleepily. "It's it's cold," chattered Dan, as he sank back under the blankets. Here he quickly warmed.
There was a new look in Darrin's usually patient eyes. It was a look Farley hadn't seen there before, and it warned the hot-headed midshipman that he was in danger of going too far. "Oh, fudge on you, Darrin!" jeered Farley, turning on his heel. "Going to be with us, Dalzell? "No," replied Dan promptly. "I never travel with the enemies of my friends."
Four or five times Treadwell landed heavily on Darrin's ribs. The younger, smaller midshipman was getting seriously winded, but all the time he fought to save himself and to get that one opening. It came. Pound! Darrin's hard-clenched left fist dropped in on Treadwell's right eye. This time there was no exclamation from the bruised one. Alert Dave was careful to give him no chance.
"Well, sir," responded Bob, "he stopped you partly with his head, and it would have been broken, only he had his hands out and gripped you at the shoulders or trunk. It may be that his head was split as it was, but I hardly think so." Two more liberal douses of water, and Dave, too, opened his eyes. "Is Jetson all right?" was Darrin's first question.
Darrin's clenched right fist caught the fop on the temple, felling him to the ground. "Go right on to Laura's, Belle," begged Dave quickly. "I'll be along soon." Miss Meade walked rapidly ahead. Ardmore was on his feet in an instant. Not wanting in a certain amount of animal courage, he rushed at Dave, only to be met with a blow in the mouth that floored him again.
Darrin," replied the O.C. "Mr. Dalzell, do you share Mr. Darrin's determination as to keeping out of trouble in Annapolis this evening?" "Emphatically, sir." "Then the desired permission is granted. You will enter proper report as to the time of leaving and returning." Thanking the O.C. and saluting, Dave and Dan hastened back to Joyce. "Not so difficult, was it?" demanded the Navy quarter-back.
Farley, the flow of blood from his nose stanched, came back as full of steam as before. Dave's footwork was as nimble as ever. Speed and skill in dodging were features of Darrin's fighting style. Yet Farley caught him, with a blow on the chest that sent him to his knees. Like a flash, however, Darrin was upon his feet, and Farley lunged at him swiftly and heavily.
"Step aside, boy!" ordered the unknown man, as he tried to brush Dave away and enter the cab. It was no time for gentle measures. Ensign Darrin's right fist landed heavily on the face of the stranger, sending him prone to the sidewalk. At a wave of Dave's hand the chauffeur started away.
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