None of these young men were in the “savvy” section, but all had passed with sufficient credit for the first year.

While the graduating exercises were going on the fourth class men were divided between drills on land and on water.

Dave and Dan were in a squad that marched up from the steam building just in time to catch a distant glimpse of the crowds surging out from the graduating exercises.

Both young men, and probably a lot of others in the same squad throbbed with a swift flash of thought.

As soon as the ranks were broken Dalzell seized his chum’s hand, and began wringing it strenuously.

“David, little giant,” murmured Dan ecstatically, “we are no longer fourth class men.  From the instant that the tail-ender of the old first class received his diploma we became transformed into third class men.”

“Yes,” smiled Dave.  “We’re youngsters.  That’s going some.”

“Poor fourth class men!” sighed Dan.  “I’m alluding to those who will have to look up to and reverence me as a youngster!”

As soon as the chums had made a shift from their working clothes to the uniform of the day, and had stepped outside, they saw Mr. Henley coming their way, looking wholly proud and happy.

Then, of a sudden, Mr. Henley bent a keen look upon the new youngsters.

Just in the nick of time Dave Darrin recalled one of the regulations to which he had hitherto paid little heed for lack of use.

Graduate midshipmen are entitled to be saluted by mere midshipmen as though they were already officer.

Swiftly Darrin brought his heels together with a click, bringing his hand smartly up to the visor of his uniform cap.

Henley gravely returned the salute with a new sense of existence.

Dan Dalzell caught the drift of the thing just in time, and saluted also.

“May we congratulate you, Mr. Henley?” asked Dave.

“I was hoping that you both would,” replied the graduate.  “And, one of these days, I may have the pleasure of congratulating you, as an officer, when you first come up over the side to start in with your real sea life.”

“I’m thinking, now, of our first taste of sea life,” murmured Darrin, a dreamy light coming into his eyes.

“Yes; just as soon as we graduates are gotten out of the way you new youngsters will join the two upper classes on the big battleships and start on your first summer practice cruise.”

“I feel as if I couldn’t wait,” muttered Dan, as Henley moved away.

“You’ll have to, however,” laughed Dave.  “Don’t be impatient.  Think what a very small insect on shipboard a youngster midshipman is!”

The chums were through with their first year at Annapolis.  But, all in a moment, they had entered the next year.  Many things befell them on that summer practice cruise, and many more things in the new academic year that followed.  But these will be appropriately reserved for the next volume, which will be entitled:  “Dave Darrin’s Second Year at Annapolis; Or, Two Midshipmen as Naval Academy ’Youngsters.’”