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Updated: May 6, 2025
"Absolutely fair play, gentlemen, to both contestants!" Again the showering exchange of blows. Jetson, after his late rapid expenditure of force and nerve-energy, was now just the least bit confused. Dan landed on one ear, and then against his enemy's chin. Both were hard, dazing blows, though neither left a mark. Then an uppercut and Dalzell landed on Jetson's jugular.
Any remarks that may be offered on that resolution will be in order now." Dave Darrin was on his feet in an instant. Three or four men hissed, but Dave appeared not to notice. "Mr. President," Dave began in a slow, steady voice, "this motion more closely affects Mr. Jetson than it does any other member of the class. I understand that Mr. Jetson has a few remarks to make."
"I note that two of the fellows are talking with Jetson," continued Dave, letting his glance wander to another group. "They have a right to," contended Joyce. "The class hasn't yet committed itself as to Jetson." You may bring the storm down on Jetson if you test the temper and stubbornness of an offended class." "I see that I was wrong in at least one particular," nodded Dave thoughtfully.
"I shouldn't have made any remark about my intentions. I should have confined myself to a plea for Jetson. Then, if the class had gone against my view I could have ignored the class action and have taken the consequences just the same." "Barry," begged Midshipman Joyce, resting a hand on his friend's arm, "don't do any more talking about this. Just let things quiet down."
Darrin, and welcome, but you shall not share mine with me. You shall not share anything whatever with me not even the air of this room if I can prevail upon you to take yourself out of a room where you are not wanted. Mr. Darrin, I indulge myself in the honor of wishing you good evening!" Jetson crossed the room, threw open the door and bowed low.
Then, suddenly, he threw his head downward, hanging on by his knees. An intentional slip, and he hung fully downward his ankles holding at the ends of the crossbar. Folding his arms, Jetson again began to swing as he hung head downward. Among the midshipmen there were not so very many who were skillful at this form of exercise. Jetson was, and he was secretly proud of it.
"Sir, do you realize " "I realize that you're still talking!" sneered Jetson. "Then I won't talk any longer," replied Dave Darrin in a quiet but dangerous voice. "Since you refuse to listen even to Hepson " "Who's taking my name in vain?" demanded a laughing voice as a burly figure moved in between Dave and his enemy. The new comer was Hepson, who had come upon the group unnoticed.
He had not lost control of himself, but he was warming up to the instinct of fighting when no other course seemed open. Jetson's next blow grazed Midshipman Dalzell's chin. The follow-up blow landed on Dan's left ear. Now Dalzell "sailed in" in earnest. He attacked forcefully and swiftly. Jetson was forced to give ground. Dan pursued him around the room.
"Pull that scrimmage off again," directed Coach Havens dryly. The ball was placed, the whistle sounded, and again Dave received the ball and tried to break through. With the Rustlers prepared for the move, it was blocked and the ball was "down." Jetson felt his face burning. He knew, well enough, that many of the players regarded him with suspicion.
"We'll look 'em over first, before we give up," retorted the other attendant, stooping and gently rolling Jetson over on his back. "Sure they're killed, Bob," protested Jim huskily. "They met head on. You'll find that both middies have their skulls broken." "Bring two pails of water, you chump," ordered Bob. "I tell you, we won't raise a row until we've done the best we can for 'em."
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