“Wolgast, my objection to you has nothing personal in it,” Farley went on.  “With me it is a case simply of believing that Darry could lead us on the gridiron much better than you’re likely to.”

“That I know,” retorted Wolgast, with emphasis.  “But what on earth are we going to do with a fellow like Darrin?  He simply won’t allow himself to be made captain.  I’d resign this minute, if we could have Darry for our captain.”

“You’re going to do all right, Wolgast.  I know you are,” Dave rejoined.

“Then what’s the trouble?  Why don’t I suit all hands?” demanded the Navy’s football captain.

Darrin was silent for a few moments.  The midshipmen visitors waited patiently, knowing that, from this comrade, they could be sure of a wholly candid reply.

“Have you found the answer, Darry?” pressed Wolgast at last.

“Yes,” said Dave slowly; “I think I have.  The reason, as I see it, is that there are no decidedly star players on this year’s probable eleven.  The men are all pretty nearly equal, which doesn’t give you a chance to tower head and shoulders above the other players.  Usually, in the years that I know anything of, it has been the other way.  There have been only two or three star players in the squad, and the captain was usually one of the very best.  You’re plenty good enough football man, Wolgast, but there are so many other pretty good ones that you don’t outshine the others as much as captains of poorer teams have done in other years.”

“By Jupiter!  Darry has hit it!” cried Farley, leaping from his seat.  “Wolly, you have the luck to command an eleven in which most of the men are nearly, if not quite, as good as the captain.  You’re not head and shoulders over the rest, and you don’t tower—–­that’s all.  Wolly, I apologize for my criticisms.  Darry has shown me the truth.”

“Then you look for a big slaughter list for us this year, Darry?” Wolgast asked.

“Yes; unless the other elevens that we’re to play improve as much as the Navy is going to do.”

At this moment Page and Jetson rapped and then entered.  Ten minutes later there were fully twenty midshipmen in the room, all talking animatedly on the one subject at the United States Naval Academy in October—–­football.

So the time sped.  Dave lost his chance to read his novel, but he did not mind the loss.  It was Jetson who, at last, discovered the time.

“Whew, fellows!” he muttered.  “Only ten minutes to taps.”

That sent most of the midshipmen scuttling away.  Page and Farley, however, whose quarters were but a few doors away on the same deck, remained.

“Farl,” murmured Darrin, “for the first time tonight I’m feeling a bit worried.”

“Over Danny?”

“The same.”

“What’s up?” Page wanted to know.

“Why, he hasn’t been around all evening.   Surely Dalzell would
be coming back by this time, unless-----”

“Didn’t he have leave to visit town?” demanded Midshipman Page.