pper classmen were due back from
their leave.

Dave and Dan were in their room, poring hard over French, when
a light tap sounded on the door.

Right on top of the tap Midshipman Farley, fourth class, entered
on tiptoe, closing the door behind him.

This accomplished, Farley dropped his air of stealth, strolling
over to the study desk.

"There's a nice little place in town--you know, Purdy's," began
Farley significantly.

"I've heard of it as an eating place," responded Darrin.

"It's more than that," returned Farley, smacking his lips. "It's
an ideal place for a banquet."

"I accept your word for it," smiled Dave.

"I don't ask you to, Darrin," grinned Farley. "Like any honest
man I'm prepared to prove all I say. Purdy has received--by
underground telegraph--orders to prepare a swell feast for eight.
It's to be ready at eleven tonight. We had the eight all made
up, but two fellows have flunked cold. We're to French it over
the wall tonight, leaving here a few minutes after taps. Are you on?"

Farley's enthusiastic look fell upon the face of Dalzell.

"I'm on!" nodded Dan

"No; you're not" broke in Dave quietly.

"I'm afraid I must disagree with you, little David," murmured Dan.

"Oysters, clams, fish--watermelon!" tempted Midshipman Farley.

"Um-yum!" grunted Dan, his eyes rolling.

"Then you're with us, Dalzell?" insisted Farley.

"Well, rather--"

"--not!" interjected Dave Darrin with emphasis.

"Now, what are you butting in for, you greasy greaser?" demanded
Farley, giving Dave a contemptuous glance. "Maybe you won't join
us, and maybe we'd just as soon not have as greasy a midshipman
as you at the festive board, but Dalzell isn't tied to your apron
strings, are you, Dalzell?"

"No; he's not," replied Darrin, speaking for his chum. "Dalzell
will speak for himself, if he insists. But he and I have been
chums these many years, and we've often given each other good
advice in trying or tempting times. Dalzell will go with you,
if he cares to, for he already knows all that I have to say on
the subject."

"You've had your nose stuck down deep in the grease-pot ever since
you struck Annapolis!" cried Farley angrily. "I hope you bilge,
Darrin; with all my heart I hope you bilge soon. We don't need
a mollycoddle like you here in the Naval Academy!"

"Isn't that about all you want to say?" demanded Dave, looking
up with a frown.

"No; it's not half what I have to say," cried Farley h