The fourth period and the game were over.  West Point had gone down in a memorable, stinging defeat.  The Navy had triumphed, ten to two.

What a crash came from the Naval Academy Band!  Yet the Military Academy Band, catching the spirit and the tune, joined in, and both bands blared forth, the musicians making themselves heard faintly through all the tempest of huzzas.

Dave Darrin smiled faintly as he hurried away from the field.  All his personal interest in football had vanished.  He had played his last game of football and was glad that the Navy had won; that was about all.

Yet he was not listless—–­far from it.  On the contrary Dave fairly ran to dressing quarters, hustled under a shower and then began to towel and dress.

For out in the audience, well he knew, had sat Belle Meade and her mother.

“Darry, you’re a wonder!” cried Wolgast.  “Every time to-day we called upon you you were ready with the push.”

But Dave, rushing through his dressing, barely heard this and other praise that was showered on him.

“I’ll get along before assembly time, Davy,” whispered Dan Dalzell.

“Come along now,” Dave called back.

“Oh, no!  I know that you and Belle want some time to yourselves,” murmured Dalzell wisely.  “I’ll get along at the proper time.”

Dave didn’t delay to argue.  He stepped briskly outside, then into the field, his eyes roving over the thousands of spectators who still lingered.  At last a waving little white morsel of a handkerchief rewarded Darrin’s search.

“Oh, you did just splendidly to-day,” was Belle’s enthusiastic greeting, as Dave stepped up to the young lady and her mother.  “I’ve heard lots of men say that it was all Darrin’s victory.”

“Yes; you’re the hero of Franklin Field, this year,” smiled Mrs. Meade.

“Laura Bentley and her mother didn’t come over?” Dave inquired presently.

“No; of course not——­after the way that the cadets used Dick Prescott,” returned Belle.  “Wasn’t it shameful of the cadets to treat a man like Dick in that fashion?”

“I have my opinion, of course,” Dave replied moodily, “but it’s hardly for a midshipman to criticise the cadets for their own administration of internal discipline in their own corps.  The absence of Prescott and Holmes probably cost the Army the game to-day.”

“Not a bit of it!” Belle disputed warmly.  “Dave, don’t belittle your own superb work in that fashion!  The Army would have lost to-day if the West Point eleven had been made up exclusively of Prescotts and Holmeses!”

As Belle spoke thus warmly her gaze wandered, resting, though not by intent, on the face of a young Army officer passing at that moment.

“If the remark was made to me, miss,” smiled the Army officer, “I wish to say that I wholly agree with you.  The Navy’s playing was the most wonderful that I ever saw.”