"Jetson, that was a mean, deliberate trip," remarked Darrin, as he sprang
to his feet. He spoke coolly, with a warning flash in his eyes.

"Not on my part," retorted Jetson.

"You thrust your leg between mine as you went down."

Coach signed to referee not to renew the game for the moment. Then
Lieutenant-Commander Havens and the two team captains crowded close.

"I didn't do it deliberately, as you charged," retorted Jetson, hot
with anger.

"You deny it?" insisted Dave.

"I do."

"On your word as a gentleman you did not intend, a foul trip?" demanded
Midshipman Darrin.

"I have already answered you."

"Answer me on your word as a gentleman."

"I don't have to."

"Very good, then," retorted Dave, turning away with a meaning smile.

"Hold on. I pledge you my word as a gentleman that I did not intend
to make a foul trip," said Jetson, swiftly realizing the error of
his refusal.

In the meantime Lieutenant-Commander Havens had turned to Motley, of the
first class, who was serving as referee.

"Mr. Motley," demanded coach, "did you see just what happened?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you call it a foul trip?"

"I do, sir. If I were referee in a regular game, I would penalize the
team and order the player from the field."

"Mr. Jetson--" began the coach, but, swift as a flash Dave Darrin
interposed, though respectfully, saluting at the same time.

"Will you pardon me, sir. Mr. Jetson has given me his word that he did
not intend a foul trip. I accept his word without reservation."

"Very good, then," nodded coach. "But Mr. Jetson, you will do well to be
careful in the future, and avoid even the appearance of evil."

"Yes, sir; very good, sir," answered Jetson, looking decidedly sheepish.

In giving his word Jetson had told the truth, or had intended to. The
exact truth was that he really did not realize what he had done until it
was too late to avoid the foul. He had meant to stop Darrin, somehow.

"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.

"I suppose that suspicion will stick, and my chances of making the Navy
eleven are now scantier than ever," muttered the unfortunate midshipman
to himself.