“How soon do you go?” asked Dick eagerly.

“The 6.14 train to New York,” replied Dave.

“Oh, then you’re not going to have supper at cadet mess?” asked Greg in a tone of deep disappointment.

“No,” answered Dan Dalzell.  “It would get us through too late.  We dine in New York on arrival.”

“Hurry up and get dressed,” Dick urged.  Then, turning to the coach, he inquired: 

“May we keep Darrin and Dalzell with us, sir, until your train leaves?”

“No reason on earth why you shouldn’t,” nodded the Navy coach.

So Dave and Dan were dressed in a trice, it seemed, though with the care that a cadet or midshipman must always display in the set of his immaculate uniform.

Dick seized Dave by the elbow, marching him forth, while Greg piloted Dan.

“Great game for you-----” began Dan, as soon as the quartette
of old chums were outside.

“Send all that kind of talk by the baggage train,” ordered Cadet Holmes.  “What we want to talk about are the dear old personal affairs.”

“You youngsters are through here, after not so many more days, aren’t you?” began Darrin.

“Yes; and so are you, down at Annapolis,” replied Prescott.

“Not quite,” rejoined Dave gravely.  “There’s this difference.  In a few days you’ll be through here, and will proceed to your homes.  Then, within the next few days, you’ll both receive your commissions as second lieutenants in the Army, and will be ordered to your regiments.  You’re officers for all time to come!  We of the first class at Annapolis will receive our diplomas, surely.  But what beyond that?  While you become officers at once, we have to start on the two years’ cruise, and we’re still midshipmen.  After two years at sea, we have to come back and take another exam.  If we pass that one, then we’ll be ensigns—–­officers at last.  But if we fail in the exam, two years hence then we’re dropped from the service.  After we’ve gone through our whole course at Annapolis we still have to guess, for two years, whether we’re going to be reckoned smart enough to be entitled to serve the United States as officers.  I can’t feel, Dick, that we of Annapolis, get a square deal.”

“It doesn’t sound like it,” Prescott, after a moment, admitted.  “Still, you can do nothing about it.  And you knew the game when you went to Annapolis.”

“Yes, I knew all this four years ago,” Darrin admitted.  “Still, the four years haven’t made the deal look any more fair than it did four years ago.  However, Dick, hang all kickers and sea-lawyers!  Isn’t it grand, anyway, to feel that you’re in your country’s uniform, and that all your active life is to be spent under the good old flag—–­always working for it, fighting for it if need be!”

“Then you still love the service?” asked Dick, turning glowing eyes upon his Annapolis chum.

“Love it?” cried Dave.  “The word isn’t strong enough!”