The impetuous Jack turned.  “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Of course we will,” answered his chum.  “We’ll send them a telegram right away, telling them we are going to enlist tomorrow.”

It was agreed, and no sooner said than done.

There was not much sleep in 63 that night.  Long after lights were out the two boys were huddled together in their den, gazing out at the stars and speculating on the new adventure for which they were heading.

The morning train into Winchester brought among its passengers two very much perturbed mothers and two rather anxious fathers.  The Hammonds and Wainwrights had met in the spring during commencement week festivities and had much in common this morning as they came together in the Winchester terminal.  Ted and Jack were at breakfast when word was brought to them of the presence of their parents in the president’s reception room.

It was a joyful little reunion.  Only a few minutes’ conversation was necessary, however, to prove to the parents that each of the boys was dead in earnest in his announced intention to enlist in the navy.

“I don’t suppose there is much to be said here,” concluded Ted’s father after listening to the son’s impassioned appeal for parental sanction.  “You seem to have decided that you owe allegiance to your country above all other interests.  I shall not interfere.  As a matter of fact, my boy, I’m proud of you, and so—–­here’s God bless you!”

Jack’s father felt the same and so expressed himself.  Only the two little “maters,” their eyes dimmed with mist, held back; but they, too, eventually were won over by the arguments of the eager lads.

It was decided that the party should have dinner together in town and that in the afternoon the boys would present themselves for examination at the recruiting station.  The remainder of the morning was spent in packing up belongings in 63 and preparing to vacate the “dorms.”  The boys decided to wait until after they had been accepted before breaking the news to their school chums.  Each felt confident of passing the necessary requirements.  They had made the football team together in their freshman year.  Jack had played, too, on the varsity basket-ball team for two seasons, while Ted excelled on the track in the sprints.

Dinner over, the entire party repaired to the recruiting station.  It did not take long to get through the formalities there and, needless to say, each lad passed with flying colors.

“All I want to make sure of,” ventured Jack, “is that we get into the submarine service.  I’m strong for that, and so is chum.”

There was a twinkle in the eye of Chief Boatswain’s Mate Dunn, in charge of the recruiting station.

“I reckon Uncle Sam might be able to fix it for you,” chuckled the bronzed veteran.  “He’s fitting out a great submarine fleet to get right in after the Prussians, and, since you fellows seem so dead set on getting there, I guess maybe it’ll be arranged.”