great skill, of the kind that you've gained at the Naval Academy. It
makes a corking, elegant story about two of our brightest Gridley lads."

"But, Len, do you realize that the fellows at the Naval Academy will make
us read aloud to them this yarn you're proposing to write about us--that
is, if they happen to hear about it?"

"And then, after we've read the yarn straight, they'll make us sing it
all to some blamed old tune or another," groaned Dalzell.

"Well, I can't help it," sighed good-natured Len. "It's a story we've got
to have to-morrow morning. I'd lose my position if I didn't write a good
story about this afternoon's work. And, now that I've got a wife and baby
to feed, I can't afford to waste any good time in job-hunting."

"Then I hope none of the other fellows at the Naval Academy hear about
the 'Blade's' story," gulped Dan, as he wrapped himself in a blanket
while waiting for his dry clothes.

"Hear about it?" retorted Len. "They'll hear about it, all right. The
Associated Press man at Gridley will be sure to send something about it
to the papers all over the country."

"I guess we've got to take our medicine, Danny," hinted Midshipman
Dave Darrin.

In the meantime Tom Foss was soon comfortable, wrapped up in blankets and
with plenty of coffee inside him. Nor did it take long to bring Ab Canty
around. In three quarters of an hour Susie Danes opened her eyes.

As for Ella Wright, the physicians and nurses worked over her long and
earnestly, and were on the point of giving her up when at last a flutter
of her eyelids was seen.

By night time all of the young people were quite out of danger, but the
parents of the Wright and Danes families were highly indignant over the
recklessness of Tom Foss in taking the girls out on the river in such a
heavy wind.

Three days later even the launch was saved; that is, it was raised and
was towed to a boat-builder for overhauling and repairs.

CHAPTER III

THE TROUBLE-MAKING FOP

The story that Len Spencer wrote for the "Blade" was "worse" than the
midshipmen had expected. That is, the newspaper made them out to be
heroes of some rare, solid-gold type. To add to the trouble, the
story, in a condensed form, was printed broadcast by the dailies all
over the country.

"We can't hope to keep it quiet, Danny boy," groaned Dave when the two
chums met the next morning.

"No," sighed Dan. "The most we can hope for is to be allowed to
live it down."