“None of you look forward to having to go to hospital during the progress of the game, do you?” inquired Lieutenant Benson with a slight smile.

“Hardly, sir.”

“Then the ‘Dodger’ can sail an hour after the finish of the game, and perhaps stay out a little later on Sunday.  Will that solve the problem?”

“Splendidly, sir!”

“Then I will use such persuasion as I can with the superintendent to have you six men detailed for the Saturday-Sunday detail this week,” promised Lieutenant Benson.  “And now I will write your names down, in order that there may be no mistake about the squad that reports to me late next Saturday afternoon.  Dismissed!”

As Dave and his friends stepped ashore even Dan Dalzell had a more gracious estimate of “that kid, Benson.”

That night, and for several nights afterwards, the “Dodger” and her officers furnished a fruitful theme for discussion among the midshipmen.  As the “Dodger” was believed to be the very finest submarine craft anywhere among the navies of the world, the interest grew rather than waned.

Dave and Dan, as well as their four friends, began to look forward with interest to the coming cruise down the bay.

“Fellows,” warned Wolgast, “you’ll have to look out not to get your heads so full of submarines that you lose to Creighton on Saturday.”

“On the contrary,” retorted Dave, “you can look for us to push Creighton all over the field.  We’ll do it just as a sheer vent to our new animal spirits.”

That was a decidedly boastful speech for Dave Darrin, yet on Saturday he made good, or helped tremendously, for Creighton retired from the field with the small end of an eight-to-two score.

“Now, hustle on the dressing,” roared Wolgast, as they started to un-tog and get under the showers, after the football victory.

“What’s the need of rush?” demanded Peckham one of the subs.

“It doesn’t apply to you,” Wolgast shot back over his shoulder, as he started on a run to the nearest shower.  “I’m talking only to to-night’s submarine squad.”

The six midshipmen found many an envious look shot in their direction.

“Those extremely youthful officers seem to have a bad case of spoons on you six,” remarked Peckham almost sourly.

“Show some nearly human intelligence, and maybe you’ll get a chance at one of the Saturday cruises, Peckham,” called back Farley, as he began to towel down vigorously.

Dave and his friends were the first men of the team to be dressed and ready to leave.

“Give our best regards to Davy Jones!” shouted one of the football men.

“If you go down to the bottom of Chesapeake Bay, and can’t get up again, don’t do anything to spoil the fishing,” called another middy.

By this time Dave Darrin and his mates were outside and on their way to the basin.

Lieutenant Jack Benson was the only one of the “Dodger’s” officers on view when the midshipmen arrived alongside.  They passed aboard, saluting Benson, who returned their salutes without affectation.