Dave Darrins Fourth Year at Annapolis | Page 7

him asking questions in the rooms further along the "deck."
"He's questioning each man," whispered Dave.
"Of course," nodded Dan gloomily.
"It'll be our turn soon."
"D-D-Dave!"
"What?"
"I---I'm feeling ill---or I'm going to."
"Don't have cold feet, old fellow. Take your dose like a man---if you
have to."
"D-Dave, I wonder if I couldn't have a real sickness? Couldn't it be
something so you'll have to jump up and help me to hospital? Couldn't I
have---a---a fit?"
"A midshipman subject to fits would be ordered before a medical board,
and then dropped from the brigade," Dave replied thoughtfully. "No;
that wouldn't do."
That meddling discipline officer was getting closer and closer. Dave
and Dan could hear him asking questions in each room that he visited.
And there are no "white lies" possible to a midshipman. When

questioned he must answer truthfully. If the officers over him catch him
in a lie they will bring him up before a court-martial, and his dismissal
from the service will follow. If the officers don't catch him in a lie, but
his brother midshipmen do, they won't report him, but they'll ostracize
him and force him to resign. A youngster with the untruthful habit can
find no happiness at the Naval Academy.
"He---he's in the next room now," whispered Dan across the few feet of
space.
"Yes," returned Dave Darrin despairingly, "and I can't think of a single,
blessed way of getting you out of the scrape."
"Woof!" sputtered Midshipman Dan Dalzell, which was a brief way of
saying, "Here he comes, now, for our door."
Then a hand rested on the knob and the door swung open. Lieutenant
Adams, U.S.N., entered the room.
"Mr. Darrin, are you awake?" boomed the discipline officer.
Dave stirred in bed, rolled over so that he could see the lieutenant, and
then replied:
"Yes, sir."
"Rise, Mr. Darrin, and come to attention."
Dave got out of bed, but purposely stumbled in doing so. This might
give the impression that he had been actually awakened.
"Mr. Darrin," demanded Lieutenant Adams, "have you been absent
from this room tonight?"
"Yes, sir."
"After taps was sounded?"
"No, sir."

"You are fully aware of what you have answered?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very good."
That was all. A midshipman's word must be taken, for he is a
gentleman---that is to say, a man of honor.
"Mr. Dalzell!"
Poor Dan stirred uneasily.
"Mr. Dalzell!" This time the Naval officer's voice was sharper.
Dan acted as though he were waking with difficulty. He had no
intention, in the face of a direct question, of denying that he had been
absent without leave. But he moved thus slowly, hoping desperately
that the few seconds of time thus rained would be sufficient to bring to
him some inspiration that might save him.
"Mr Dalzell, come to attention!"
Dan stood up, the personification of drowsiness, saluted, then let his
right hand fall at his side and stood blinking, bracing for them correct
military attitude.
"It's too bad to disturb the boy!" thought Lieutenant Adams. "Surely,
this young man hasn't been anywhere but in bed since taps."
None the less the Naval officer, as a part of his duty, put the question:
"Mr. Dalzell, have you, since taps, been out of this room? Did you
return, let us say, by the route of the open window from the terrace?"
Midshipman Dalzell stiffened. He didn't intend to betray his own honor
by denying, yet he hated to let out the admission that would damage
him so much.

Bang! It was an explosion like a crashing pistol shot, and it sounded
from the corridor outside.
There could be no such thing as an assault at arms in guarded Bancroft
Hall. The first thought that flashed, excitedly, through Lieutenant
Adams's mind was that perhaps the real delinquent guilty of the night's
escapade had just shot himself. It was a wild guess, but a pistol shot
sometimes starts a wilder guess.
Out into the corridor darted Lieutenant Adams. He did not immediately
return to the room, so Dave Darrin, with rare and desperate presence of
mind, closed the door.
"Get back into the meadow grass, Danny boy," Darrin whispered,
giving his friend's arm a hard grip. "If the 'loot'nant' comes back, get up
fearfully drowsy when he orders you. Gape and look too stupid to
apologize!"
Lieutenant Adams, however, had other matters to occupy his attention.
There was a genuine puzzle for him in the corridor. Just out, side the
door of Midshipmen Farley and Page there lay on the floor tiny glass
fragments of what had been an efficient sixty-candle-power tungsten
electric bulb. It was one of the lights that illuminated the corridor.
Now one of these tungsten bulbs, when struck smartly, explodes with a
report like that of a pistol.
At this hour of