was not one of the discipline officers. Had it been, both midshipmen
would have been reported at once under charges that would have borne
serious results.

Instead, it was Farley who entered, followed by Page, Hepson and Joyce.

"Wow!" uttered Midshipman Farley in a low voice. Then: "Stop this,
fellows!"

At the order, which Dan knew to be intended for his own good, the latter
turned away, letting his hands fall. Jetson, on the point of a rush,
realized that he had better desist.

"Joyce, you stand outside," ordered Farley in a low voice. "Stand right
at the door. If you see the O.C. (officer in charge) turning into this
corridor, you rap as hard as you can on the door, and we'll understand."

Midshipman Joyce wanted most badly to be a spectator to what was likely
to happen on the inner side of the door, but he had the good sense to
realize that some one must do guard duty, so he stepped outside, closing
the door after him.

"Now, gentlemen, what's this all about?" demanded Hepson in a low,
smooth voice.

"It means," cried Jetson passionately, "that I'm not going to stand any
more of this petty persecution. Everyone has been trying to pretend that
he believes I've been trying to do Darrin up so that he can't play on the
Navy football team. It's all just a mean scheme to keep me from making
the Navy eleven."

"There's no such scheme afloat, or I'd know about it," returned Hepson
coolly. "Fact is, there isn't any intention whatever of playing you on
the Navy team."

"Ah, you admit it!" snapped Midshipman Jetson, first turning white, after
which his face showed a deep crimson of humiliation. "You've already done
the dirty work."

"Fellow, stop this talk!" commanded Hepson, almost at a white heat of
resentment, "Among midshipmen and gentlemen there can be no thought of
what you term 'dirty work.' The fact that you won't play with us is due
to your uncontrollable temper. A fellow who can't control his nerves and
temper isn't fitted to play football--a game that requires cool judgment
at every moment of the game."

"Then, while you're telling me what to stop, you just stop addressing me
as 'fellow,'" cried Jetson, his lip quivering with rage.

"I'll admit that was hasty on my part," agreed Midshipman Hepson, "but it
seemed necessary to use some word to bring you to your senses. And now,
this fight, which would get you both into serious trouble if a discipline
officer came upon the scene, must cease."

"I'm a