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CHAPTER I WEIGHING ANCHOR FOR THE GREAT CRUISE "It sounds like the greatest cruise ever!" declared Danny Grin, enthusiastically, as he rose and began to pace the narrow limits of the chart-room of the destroyer commanded by his chum, Lieutenant-Commander Dave Darrin. "It is undoubtedly the most dangerous work we've ever undertaken," Darrin observed thoughtfully. "All the better!" answered Dan lightly. "In our drive against the submarines off... more...

CHAPTER I READY FOR FIGHT OR FROLIC "Do you care to go out this evening, Danny boy?" asked Dave Darrin, stepping into his chum's room. "I'm too excited and too tired," confessed Ensign Dalzell. "The first thing I want is a hot bath, the second, pajamas, and the third, a long sleep." "Too bad," sighed Dave. "I wanted an hour's stroll along Broadway." "Don't let my indolence keep you in," urged Dalzell. "If you're going out, then I can have... more...

CHAPTER I GREEN HAT, THE TROUBLE-STARTER "Dan," whispered Dave Darrin, Ensign, United States Navy, to his chum and brother officer, "do you see that fellow with the green Alpine hat and the green vest?" "Yes," nodded Dan Dalzell. "Watch him." "Why?" "He's a powerful brute, and it looks as though he's spoiling for a fight." "You are not going to oblige him, are you?" asked Dalzell in a whisper, betraying surprise. "Nothing like it," Darrin... more...

CHAPTER I WANTED—-A DOUGHFACE! "Now, then, Danny boy, we——-" First Classman Dave Darrin, midshipman at the United States NavalAcademy, did not finish what he was about to say. While speaking he had closed the door behind him and had stepped into the quarters occupied jointly by himself and by Midshipman Daniel Dalzell, also of the first or upper class. "Danny boy isn't here. Visiting, probably," mused Dave Darrin, after... more...

CHAPTER I A QUESTION OF MIDSHIPMAN HONOR "How can a midshipman and gentleman act in that way?" The voice of Midshipman David Darrin, United States Navy, vibrated uneasily as he turned to his comrades. "It's a shame—that's what it is," quivered Mr. Farley, also of the third class at the United States Naval Academy. "But the question is," propounded Midshipman Dan Dalzell, "what are we going to do about it?" "Is it any part of our... more...


CHAPTER I WHY THE MIDSHIPMEN BALKED "So Tom Reade and Harry Hazelton have been here?" demanded MidshipmanDave Darrin. That handsome young member of the brigade of midshipmen at the United States Naval Academy at Annapolis was now in mufti, or cits,—meaning, in other words, that he was out of his Naval uniform and attired in the conventional clothing of a young American when calling on his sweetheart. It will make the situation even... more...

CHAPTER I "TWO TINY SPECKS OF NOTHING" "How do you feel, Dick! As spruce as you did an hour ago!" Candidate Greg Holmes put the question with a half-nervous laugh. He spoke in a whisper, too, as if to keep his agitation from reaching the notice of any of the score or more of other young men in the room of Mr. Ward, the aged notary at West Point. "I'll be glad when I see some daylight through the proceedings,"Dick Prescott whispered in answer.... more...

CHAPTER I ON FURLOUGH IN THE OLD HOME TOWN "My son, Richard. He is home on his furlough from the MilitaryAcademy at West Point." Words would fail in describing motherly pride with which Mrs. Prescott introduced her son to Mrs. Davidson, wife of the new pastor. "I am very glad to meet you, Mr. Prescott," said Mrs. Davidson, looking up, for up she had to glance in order to see the face of this tall, distinguished-looking cadet. Dick Prescott's... more...

Chapter I A JOLT ON A QUIET DAY "There's just one thing that I keep thinking about on a day like this," Dave Darrin sighed contentedly. "What's that?" Tom Reade wanted to know. "Supper?" Darrin turned, favoring Reade with a flash of disgust from his large, dark eyes. "I'm still waiting for the information," insisted Tom after a short pause. "You may as well wait," retorted Dave. "You wouldn't understand what I feel, anyway. Any fellow who... more...

CHAPTER I "OLD DUT" TELLS A STORY—DICK ANOTHER—— "Master Prescott, what are you doing?" The voice of Mr. E. Dutton Jones rasped out rather sharply, jarring on the generally studious air of the eighth-grade room of the Central Grammar School. "What were you doing, Master Prescott?" repeated the stern voice of the principal. Dick Prescott had glanced up, somewhat startled and confused. By this time every boy's and girl's eyes... more...