Before the month was over the football games began in earnest on the athletic field.  Darrin and Dalzell, however, missed every game.  They were too busy poring over their text-books.  Fortunately for them their drills, parades and gym. work furnished them enough exercise.

The end of October found Darrin at or above 2.5 in only three studies.  Dan was above 2.5 in two studies—­below that mark in all others.

“It’s a pity my father never taught me to swear,” grumbled Dalzell, in the privacy of their room.

“Stow that talk,” ordered Darrin, “and shove off into the deeper waters of greater effort.”

“Greater effort?” demanded Dan, in a rage.  “Why I study, now, every possible moment of the time allowed for such foolishness.  And we can’t run a light.  Right after taps the electric light is turned off at the master switch.”

“We’re wasting ninety seconds of precious time, now, in grumbling,” uttered Dave, seating himself doggedly at his study table.

“Got any money, Darry?” asked Dalzell suddenly.

“Yes; are you broke?”

“I am, and the next time I go into Annapolis I mean to buy some candles.”

“Don’t try that, Danny.  Running a light is dangerous, and doubly so with candles.  The grease is bound to drip, and to be found in some little corner by one of the discipline officers.  It would be no use to study if you are going to get frapped on the pap continuously.”

Immediately after supper both midshipmen forfeited their few minutes of recreation, going at once back to their study tables.  There they remained, boning hard until the brief release sounded before taps was due.

Almost at the sound of the release there came a knock at the door.  Farley and his roommate, Page, came bounding in.

“I’ve got to say something, or I’ll go daffy,” cried Farley, rubbing his eyes.  “Fellows, did you ever hear of such downright abuse as the second year course of studies means?”

“It is tough,” agreed Dave.  “But what can we do about it, except fight it out?”

“Can you make head or tail out of calculus?” demanded Farley.

“No,” admitted Darrin, “but I hope to, one of these days.”

Just then Freeman, of the first class, poked his head in, after a soft knock.

“What is this—­a despair meeting?” he called cheerily.

“Yes,” groaned Page.  “We’re in a blue funk over the way recitations are going.”

“Oh, buck up, kiddies!” called Freeman cheerily, as he crossed the floor.  “Youngsters always get in the doldrums at the beginning of the year.”

“You’re a first classman.  When you were in the third class did you have all the studies that we have now?”

“Every one of them, sir,” affirmed Midshipman Freeman gravely, though there was a twinkle in his eyes.

“And did you come through the course easily?” asked Page.

“Not easily,” admitted the first classman.  “There isn’t anything at Annapolis that is easy, except the dancing.  In fact, during the first two months very few of our class came along like anything at all.  After that, we began to do better.  By the time that semi-ans came around nearly all of us managed to pull through.  But what seems to be the worst grind of all—­the real blue paint?”