keep this line in some sort of shape?"

"Yes, give the old tosh some air," breathed a worthy in my ear as he
retreated to his proper place.

"What did you do at Bar Harbor?" asked the officer, fixing me with his
gaze.

"Oh," I replied easily, "I occasionally yachted."

"On what kind of a boat?" he urged.

"Now for the life of me, sir, I can't quite recall," I replied. "It
was a splendid boat though, a perfect beauty, handsomely fitted up and
all--I think they called her the 'Black Wing.'"

These few little remarks seemed to leave the officer flat. He regarded
me with a pitiful expression. There was pain in his eyes.

"You mean to say," he whispered, "that you don't know what kind of a
boat it was?"

"Unfortunately no, sir," I replied, feeling really sorry for the
wounded man.

"Do you recall what was the nature of your activities aboard this
mysterious craft?" he continued.

"Oh, indeed I do, sir," I replied. "I tended the jib-sheet."

"Ah," said he thoughtfully, "sort of specialized on the jib-sheet?"

"That's it, sir," said I, feeling things taking a turn for the better.
"I specialized on the jib-sheet."

"What did you do to this jib-sheet?" he continued.

"I clewed it," said I promptly, dimly recalling the impassioned
instructions an enthusiastic friend of mine had shunted at me
throughout the course of one long, hot, horrible, confused afternoon
of the past summer--my first, and, as I had hoped at the time, final
sailing experience.

The officer seemed to be lost in reflection. He was probably weighing
my last answer. Then with a heavy sigh he took my paper and wrote
something mysterious upon it.

"I'm going to make an experiment of you," he said, holding the paper
to me. "You are going to be a sort of a test case. You're the worst
applicant I have ever had. If the Navy can make a sailor out of you it
can make a sailor out of anybody"; he paused for a moment, then added
emphatically, "without exception."

"Thank you, sir," I replied humbly.

"Report here Monday for physical examination," he continued, waving my
thanks aside. "And now go away."

[Illustration: "'DO YOU ENLIST FOR FOREIGN SERVICE?' HE SNAPPED.
'SURE,' I REPLIED, 'IT WILL ALL BE FOREIGN TO ME'"]

I accordingly went, but as I did so I fancied I caught the reflection
of a smile lurking guiltily under his mustache. It was the sort of a
smile, I imagined at the time, that might flicker across the grim
visage of a lion in the act