ian it may seem that Dan Dalzell had done
nothing very wrong in taking a walk when he found the purpose
of his call frustrated; but discipline, when it imposes certain
restrictions on a man, cannot allow the man himself to be the
judge of whether he may break the restrictions. If the man himself
is to be the judge then discipline ceases to exist.

"So I've got to stick myself on pap, and accept a liberal handful
of demerits, all on account of a girl?" grumbled Dan, as the chums
turned into the road leading to Bancroft Hall."

"That is largely because you couldn't get the girl out of your
head," Dave rejoined. "Didn't I tell you, Danny, that you hadn't
head enough to give any of your attention to the other sex?"

"It's tough to get those demerits, though," contended Dan. "I
imagine there'll be a large allowance of them, and in his fourth
year a fellow can't receive many demerits without having to get
out of the Academy. One or two more such scrapes, and I'll soon
be a civilian, instead of an officer in the Navy!"

"See here, Dan; I'll offer an explanation that you can make truthfully.
Just state, when you're called up, that you and I were absorbed
talking football, and that you really forgot to turn in the right
direction while your mind was so full of Navy football. That may
help some."

"Yes; it will---not!"

Dan Dalzell passed into the outer room of the officer in charge,
picked up a blank and filled it out with the report against himself.

Dave was waiting outside as Dan came out from the disagreeable
duty of reporting himself.

"Hang the girls!" Dalzell muttered again disgustedly.

CHAPTER VII

DAN'S EYES JOLT HIS WITS

Dan Dalzell, on the point of stepping out of Bancroft Hall, wheeled
like a flash, and bounded back against Farley, Jetson and Page.

"Don't look!" whispered Dan hoarsely. "Duck!"

"What on earth is the matter?" demanded Midshipman Darrin, eyeing
his chum sharply.

"I---I don't know what it is," muttered Dan, after he had backed
his friends some feet from the entrance.

"What does it look like?" asked Farley.

"Something like a messenger boy," returned Dan.

"Surely, you're not afraid of a messenger boy with a telegram,"
laughed Darrin. "Little chance that the message is for you, at
any rate."

"But---it's got a Naval uniform on, I tell you," warned Dan.

"No; you hadn't told us. What is it---another midshipman?"

"Not by a jugful!" Dan sputtered. "It's wear