eutenant Willow picked his way.

He looked solemn--unusually so, even for Lieutenant Willow, U.S.N. He
had the air of a man who hates to do his duty, but who is convinced that
the heavens would fall if he didn't.

To his left he turned, acknowledging smartly the crisp salute given him
by the midshipman assistant officer of the day.

Into the outer office of the officer in charge stepped Mr. Willow, and
thence on into the smaller room where Lieutenant-Commander Stearns sat
reading.

"Oh, good evening, Willow," hailed Lieut. Stearns heartily.

"Good evening, Stearns," was the almost moody reply.

"Sit down and let's have a chat I'm glad to see you," urged
Lieutenant-Commander Stearns.

Mr. Stearns, he of the round, jovial face, gazed at his junior with
twinkling eyes.

"Willow," he muttered, "I'm half inclined to believe that you've come
to me to make an official report."

"I guess I have," nodded Lieutenant Willow.

"And against some unfortunate midshipman, at that!"

"Against two, at least," sighed Mr. Willow, "and there were others
involved in the affair."

"It must be something fearful," said Mr. Stearns, who knew the junior
officer's inclination to be duty-mad. "But, see here, if you make an
official report you'll force me to take action, even though it's
something that I'd secretly slap a midshipman on the shoulder for doing.
No--don't begin to talk yet, Willow. Try a cigar and then tell me,
personally, what's worrying you. Then perhaps it won't be altogether
needful to make an official report."

"I never was able to take you--er--somewhat jovial views of an officer's
duty, Stearns," sighed Lieutenant Willow.

Nevertheless, he selected a cigar, bit off the end, lighted it and took
a few whiffs, Lieutenant-Commander Stearns all the while regarding his
comrade in arms with twinkling eyes.

"Now, fire ahead, Willow," urged the officer in charge, "but please
don't make your communication an official one--not at first. Fire ahead,
now, Willow."

"Well--er--just between ourselves," continued Lieutenant Willow slowly,
"there has been a fight to-night between two midshipmen."

"No!"

Lieutenant-Commander Stearns struck his fist rather heavily against the
desk.

"A fight--a real fight--with fists?" continued the officer in charge, in
a tone of mock incredulity. "No, no, no, Willow, you don't mean it--you
can't mean it!"

"Yes, I do," rejoined the junior officer rather stiffly.

"Oh, dear, what is