As soon as the band stopped the corps yell rose, with the names of Durville, Prescott and Holmes, and of Carter whose batting luck had played such a part in the eighth.

But, by the time that the corps yell rose the Army nine was nearly off the field.

“Listen to the good noise, old ramrod,” glowed Greg.

“It’s the last time we’ll ever hear the corps yell for any work we do in West Point athletics,” went on Greg mournfully.

“I know it,” sighed Dick.  “If we ever hear cheers for us again, we’ll have to win the noise by a gallant charge, or something like that.”

“In the Army,” replied Greg, choking somewhat.

“Yes; in the good old Army,” went on Dick, his eyes kindling.  “I don’t feel any uneasiness about getting through the final exams. now.  We’re as good as second lieutenants already, Holmesy!”

While thus chatting, however, the two chums were keeping pace with their comrades of the nine.  The nine from Annapolis moved in a compact group a little ahead down the road.

Just before the Army ball-tossers reached the dressing quarters, Lieutenant Lawrence, their coach, hastened ahead of them, meeting them in the doorway.

“The best nine we’ve had in a long number of years, gentlemen,” glowed coach, as he shook the hand of each in passing.  “Thank you all for your splendid, hard work!”

Thanks like that was sweet music, after all.  But Dick raced to dressing quarters full of but one thing.

“Quick, Holmesy!  We don’t know how soon the Navy team may have to run down the road to a train.”

“Aren’t they going to have supper at the mess?” demanded Greg, as he stripped.

“I don’t know; I’m afraid not.”

Dick and Greg were the first of the Army nine to be dressed in their fatigue uniforms.  Immediately they made a quick break for the Navy quarters.

“It looks almost cheeky to throw ourselves in on the other fellows,” muttered Greg dubiously.  “Some of the middies will think we’ve come in on purpose to see how they take their beating.”

“They didn’t get a bad enough beating to need to feel ashamed,” replied Dick.  “And we won’t say a word about the game, anyway.”

“May we come in?” called Prescott, knocking on the door of the middies’ quarters.

“Who’s there?” called a voice.  Then the Navy coach, in uniform, opened the door.

“Oh, come in, gentlemen,” called the coach, holding out his hand.  “And let me congratulate you, Prescott and Holmes, on the very fine game that you two had a star part in putting up for the nine from Crabtown.”

“Thank you, sir,” Dick replied.  “But we didn’t call on that account.  There are two old chums of ours here, sir, that we’re looking for.”

“See anything of them anywhere?” smiled Dave Darrin, stepping forward, minus his blouse and holding out both hands.

Dick and Greg pounced upon Dave.  Then Dan struggled into another article of clothing and ran forward from the rear of the room.