staring
dumfoundedly at his comrade. "What on earth----"

"I did it because I had more than one satisfactory reason for
considering it my duty," interposed Dave, speaking quietly though
firmly.

"You--you--bag of wind!" exploded Midshipman Pennington.

"I'll accept your apology when you've had time to think it all over,"
replied Dave, with a smile, though there was a brief flash in his eyes.

"I'll make no apology to you--at any time, you--you--greaser!"

Marks for efficiency or good conduct, which increase a midshipman's
standing, are called "grease-marks" or "grease" in midshipman slang.
Hence a midshipman who is accused of currying favor with his officers in
order to win "grease" is contemptuously termed a "greaser."

"I don't want to talk with you any more, Mr. Darrin," Pennington went on
bitterly, "or walk with you, either. When I get over this toothache I'll
call you out--you greaser!"

Burning with indignation, Midshipman Pennington fell back to walk with
Hallam.

CHAPTER II

DAVE'S PAP-SHEET ADVICE

When our party reached the landing a lively scene lay before them.

Fully a hundred midshipmen, belonging to the first, second and third
classes, were waiting to be transported out to one or another of the
great, gray battleships.

Several launches were darting back and forth over the water. The baggage
of the midshipmen had already been taken aboard the battleships. Only
the young men themselves were now awaited.

Near-by stood a lieutenant of the Navy, who was directing the
embarkation of the midshipmen of the different classes.

Five minutes after our party arrived a launch from the "Massachusetts"
lay in alongside the landing.

"Third classmen, this way!" shouted the lieutenant. "How many of you?"

Turning his eyes over the squad that had moved forward, the officer
continued:

"Twenty-two. You can all crowd into this launch. Move quickly, young
gentlemen!"

In another couple of minutes the puffing launch was steaming away to
the massive battleship that lay out in the stream.

Dave stood well up in the bow. Once he barely overheard Pennington
mutter to a comrade:

"The rascally greaser!"

"That means me," Dave muttered under his breath. "I won't take it up
now, or in any hurry. I'll wait until Pen has had time to see things
straight."

As soon as the launch lay alongside, the young midshipmen clambered
nimbly up the side gangway, each raising his cap to the flag at the
stern