“Candidates, gentlemen?  Walk right upstairs.  An orderly there will direct you to the office of the superintendent’s aide.”

“Thank you,” replied Dave, with a bow, and led the way upstairs.

Near the head of the stairs another marine, in spick-and-span uniform, wearing white gloves and with a bayonet at his belt, called out quietly: 

“Candidates?  First two, step this way please.”

He swung open a door.  Dave and Dan stepped into an office where they found a young-looking though slightly bald gentleman in uniform, seated behind a flat-top desk.

“We have come to report, sir, according to our instructions,” announced Dave Darrin, happily.

“You are candidates, then?” asked Lieutenant-Commander Graham, reaching for a pile of bound sheets.

“Yes, sir.”

“Names?

“David Darrin and Daniel Dalzell, sir.”

“Have you your papers, Mr. Darrin?”

“Yes, sir.”

Dave drew an official-looking envelope from an inner pocket and handed it to Lieutenant-Commander Graham.

These the Naval aide scanned closely, after which he looked up.

“You have your papers, Mr. Dalzell?”

“Yes,” nodded Dan.

A more than perceptible frown flashed across the face of the officer.

“Mr. Dalzell, whenever you answer an officer you will say ’yes, sir,’ or ‘very good, sir.’”

Rather red in the face Dan handed over his envelope.

Mr. Graham examined these papers, too.  Then, pulling a pile of blanks before him, he filled out two, bearing the names of the young men, and signed them, after which he handed one of the signed blanks to each.

“Mr. Darrin, you will inquire of the orderly downstairs your way to the office of the commandant of midshipmen.  You will then at once present yourself before the commandant, handing him this paper.”

“Yes, sir; thank you, sir,” replied Dave, with a slight bow.

“Mr. Dalzell, stick close to your friend and you will find out what to do.”

“Yes, sir,” murmured Dan, again reddening.

The orderly below directed the two young men how to proceed to the main entrance of Bancroft Hall, there to turn to their left and inquire again their way to the commandant’s office.

“You see,” lectured Dave pleasantly, as the chums plodded along one of the walks, “you have already received your first lesson.  You answered the superintendent’s aide without saying ‘sir.’  You’ll have to work out of this freshness.”

“That wasn’t freshness; it was ignorance,” protested Dalzell.  “Don’t you worry, Dave; I shall soon get the Naval trotting gait to such an extent that I shall be saying ‘sir’ at every other word.”

This declaration was more prophetic than Dalzell could guess at that moment.

Each lad had a queer feeling at heart as he began to climb the long series of white steps that lead to the main entrance to Bancroft Hall.  What would be the outcome?  Were they hence-forth to find this huge pile “home” for four years to come?  Would they, through all after life, look back upon this great government training school as their alma mater?  It all seemed to depend, now, on the verdict of the examining Naval surgeons!