"Since you admit having read the 'Bazoo's' infamous article, mister,"

continued Midshipman Paulson, "tell us whether any of the scurrilous charges therein are true?"

"The quotation from the official report, sir, being correct as a copy, is bound to be true--"

"Official reports at the Naval Academy are always true," retorted Paulson severely. "Proceed, sir, to the comments which the ink-slinger of the 'Bazoo' has made concerning you. Mister, read the paragraph numbered 'one.'"

In a voice that shook a trifle Dave read:

_"Dave Darrin is, beyond any question or cavil, one of the brightest, smartest, bravest and most popular boys who ever went forth into the world as a true son of old Gridley."_

"Mister," declared Paulson, "you may gloss over some of the slander in those words by singing them to the tune of 'Yankee Doodle.'"

Dave flushed. There was a momentary flash in his eyes. Dan, watching his chum covertly, was briefly certain that Darrin was going to balk. Perhaps he would even fight.

True hazing, however, does not aim at cruelty, but at teaching a new man to obey, no matter how absurd the order.

In another moment the grim lines around the corners of Dave's mouth softened to a grin.

"Wipe off that ha-ha look, mister!" warned Youngster Paulson.

"I'll sing, gentlemen, if you think you can stand it," Dave promised.

"You'll sing, mister, because you've been ordered to do so," reported Paulson as master of ceremonies. "Now, then, let us have that paragraph to the air of 'Yankee Doodle.'"

Dave obeyed. To do him justice, he sang the best that he knew how, but that wasn't saying much for quality. Dave had a good voice for a leader of men, but a poor one for a singer.

Somehow, he got through the ordeal.

"Now, cast your eye on the paragraph marked as number two," directed Mr. Paulson. "Mister, the 'Bazoo' in your left hand. Thrust your right hand in under the front of your blouse and strike the att.i.tude popularly ascribed to Daniel Webster. No comedy, either, mister; give us a serious impersonation, sir!"

This was surely rubbing it in, but Dave gave his best in att.i.tude and pose.

"Effective!" murmured Midshipman Jones. "Very!

"Superb!" voiced Mr. Hurlburt.

"Now, for the declamation, mister, of paragraph number two," commanded Youngster Paulson.

In a deep voice, and with a ring that was meant to be convincing, Dave read the paragraph:

_"Since a school consists of pupils as well as of instructors, the brightest student minds may be said to make the life and history of a famous school. It has been so with our justly famous Gridley High School. Mr. Darrin, in the past, has aided in establishing many of the traditions of the famous school that claims him as her own son. The young man's heroism at Annapolis, under the most exacting conditions, will surprise no one who knows either Mr. Darrin or the splendid traditions that he helped establish among the youth of his home town. In the years to come we may look confidently forward to hearing the name of Darrin as one of the most famous among the newer generation of the United States Navy. David Darrin will always be a hero--because he cannot help it."_

As Dave, his face flushing more hotly than ever, read through these lines he was conscious of the jeering gaze of the upper cla.s.s men.

He was interrupted, at times, by cries of fervid but mock admiration.

"I feel," announced Mr. Hurlburt, wiping his eyes with his handkerchief, "that I am indeed honored in being one of the humbler students at this great school on which our beloved comrade has shed the l.u.s.ter of his presence."

"It seems almost profane to look at such a young man, except through smoked gla.s.ses," protested Midshipman Heath.

"What's your name, mister?" demanded Midshipman Brooks.

"Darrin, sir," Dave answered, with the becoming meekness of a fourth cla.s.s man.

"Any relative of the Darrin mentioned in the elegy you have just been reading?"

"I hope not, sir," replied Dave, fighting to stifle a grin, though it was a sheepish one.

"Mister," stormed Midshipman Denton, "you are attempting to deceive us!"

Dave gazed meekly but inquiringly at the last speaker.

"You are trying to evade the fact that you are the real Darrin, the identical hero whom the 'Bazoo' so lovingly, so reverently describes. Deceit fills your system, mister! You will stand on your head long enough to let it run out of you."

Midshipman Paulson, though an inveterate "runner" of fourth cla.s.s men, had some regard for the dangers of overstaying the visit, and kept his left eye on the time.

Darrin, standing on his head, became redder of face than ever, for all the blood in his body seemed to be running downward.

At last he became so unsteady that twice his feet slipped along the wall, and he had to return to his att.i.tude of standing on his head.

"Better let up on the beast, Paulson," murmured Midshipman Brooks.

"Yes," agreed Paulson. "The warning bell will go in a minute more. Mister, on your feet!"

Dave promptly returned to normal att.i.tude, standing respectfully at attention.

"Mister," continued Paulson, "you will be allowed to retain this marked copy of the 'Bazoo.' You are warned to keep it out of sight, ordinarily, that none of the discipline officers may find it.

But you will continue to refer to it several times daily, until you are sure that you have committed all of the marked paragraphs to heart, so that you can reel them off in song or in declamation.

And you will be prepared, at all times, to favor any of the upper cla.s.s men with these selections, whenever called for. Good night, mister!

"Good night, sir."

Dave returned the salutations of each of the departing visitors.

Just as Brooks, the last of the lot, was pa.s.sing through the doorway, the warning bell before taps sounded.

For a moment Dave Darrin, his face still red, stood behind the closed door, shaking his fist after the departing visitors.

"Why didn't you shake your fist while they were in the room?" asked Dalzell bluntly.

"That would have started a fight, as the least consequence," replied Dave, more soberly.

"A fight, eh?" chuckled Dan. "Dave, I don't know what has come over you lately. There was a time when you didn't mind fights."

"I have fought three times since coming here," Darrin replied soberly.

"And I have fought seven times," retorted Dan.

"Puzzle: Guess which one of us was found the fresher," laughed Darrin.

"I never thought you'd stand anything such as you've endured at Annapolis, without pounding your way through thick ranks of fighters,"

mused Dalzell aloud. "Dave, I can't fathom your meekness."