Hardly a word did Dalzell speak as he ate. As for Dave Darrin, he was
too happy over his chum's respite to want to talk.

Yet, when they strolled together in the open air during the brief
recreation period following the meal, Dalzell suddenly asked:

"Dave when do you fight with Treadwell?"

"To-night, I hope," replied Darrin.

"Oh, then I must get busy!"

"Why?"

"Why, I'm to represent you, Darry. Who are Treadwell's--"

"Danny boy, don't make a fuss about it," replied Dave quietly, "but just
for this once you are not to be my second."

"Why--"

"Danny boy, you have just gotten by the Board by a hair's breadth. What
kind of an act of gratitude would it be for you to make your first act a
breach of discipline? For a fight, though often necessary here, is in
defiance of the regulations."

"But Dave, I've never been out of your fights!"

"You will be this time, Danny. Don't worry about it, either. Farley and
Page are going to stand by me. In fact, I think that even now they are
talking with Treadwell's friends."

"You're wrong," murmured Dalzell, looking very solemn. "Here come Farley
and Page right now."

In another moment the seconds had reached Darrin and his chum.

"To-night?" asked Dave Quietly.

"Yes," nodded Page.

"Time?"

"Just after recall."

"Good," murmured Darrin. "You two come for me, and I'll be ready. And I
thank both of you fellows for taking up the matter for me."

"We'll be mighty glad to be there, Darry," grinned Farley, "for we look
to see you finish off that first classman."

"Maybe," smiled Dave quietly. "I'll do all I can, anyway."

"And to think," almost moaned Dan Dalzell, "that you're to be in a
scrap, David, little giant, and I'm not to be there to see!"

"There'll be other fights, I'm afraid," sighed Darry. "I seem destined
to displease quite a few of the fellows here at Annapolis."

Dan tried to study, that night, after Darrin had left the room in the
company of his seconds. Certainly Dan, in the light of his promise made
to the Board that morning, had need to study. Yet he found it woefully
hard to settle his mind on mathematics while Dave was fighting the fight
of his Naval Academy career.

"Oh, well," muttered Dan, picking up a pencil for the third time, "Dave
and I each have our own styles of fights, just now. Here goes for a
knockout blow at math!"

CHAPTER XVII

LOSING THE TIME-KEEPER'S COUNT

Conners and Brayton were Treadwell's seconds.