He was aroused from his abstraction by the voice of his chum.

"Good boy!" breathed Dan. "I am proud of you. Fine! I knew you would show them the material you are made of when you got the chance. Were you really struck by lightning?"

"I don't know. I think it must have been the thunder clap that hit me, though I didn't hear it. But wasn't that gun a sight? Nearly tore the clothes off my back in the bargain."

"Burn you anywhere?"

"I guess not." Sam turned his palms up mechanically and opened his eyes in amazement. They had been burned by the electric fluid until they were black to the finger tips.

"Waugh!" he exclaimed. "Good thing it didn't do that to my face, or I'd look just like the Pennsylvania Dutchman."

Sam, having his liberty, made a trip to the town that afternoon. It was his first trip there since arriving at the Training School. First, however, he procured his new rating badge and, after consulting with a petty officer, sewed it on his sleeve. Sam strutted around for some time after that, holding up his arm so that he might feast his eyes on the red-lined rating mark. He felt very proud of it, and his companion, Dan Davis, was no less proud of him.

In the town Sam found many other apprentices on liberty, and at their invitation he joined them, spending the rest of the afternoon in wandering about. They made him tell about his experiences in being struck by lightning that morning, which Sam did with more or less relish.

"I imagine it was almost like being in a battle, fellows," he said.

"If you got a clip like that in battle, I reckon you wouldn't be bragging about it afterwards," suggested one.

"I'm not bragging about it," protested Hickey indignantly. "What's the matter with you? Besides, I'm an officer, now, and officers don't have to brag. They do things that speak for themselves."

"Hear him talk! He's got a swelled head already," jeered one of the party. "You'll have a chance, to-morrow, to see whether you are any good or not."

"What do you mean?"

"Can you shoot?"

Sam grinned.

"Don't make me laugh. I can shoot the eyes out of a spud as far as I can see it."

"What's a spud?" piped a voice.

"You a sailor, and don't know what a spud is?" scoffed Sam. "A spud is a spud, otherwise known as a potato. I am surprised at your ignorance."

"Louis Flink says he's going to clean up the whole crowd of us, to-morrow, when we get to shooting."

"Shooting?"

"Yes."

"Shooting at what?"

"Targets."

"Are we going to do that?"

"Sure, and the ones who make the best scores will be promoted, I understand. The officers always do that. They are going to try out the apprentices, to see who is good enough to qualify for the sharpshooting record of the station."

Hickey's eyes glowed. As soon as possible thereafter he excused himself.

Boarding a street car, he returned to the station.

"What do you think, Dan?" questioned Sam, as soon as he had gotten his chum off away from the others.

"Well, what is it? Been getting into more trouble, young man?"

"Not I. It's news, and you'll say it's real news when you hear it."

"Well, I am listening," smiled Dan good-naturedly.

Sam's face was flushed with excitement, for this had been an eventful day for him.

"Tell me all about it?"

"We are going to shoot to-morrow," whispered Sam in a stage whisper loud enough to be heard a dozen yards away.

"Shoot what?"

"Target work."

"You don't say?"

"Yes," chuckled Hickey. "We won't do a thing to the targets, will we?"

"I don't know about you, but as for myself I never thought I was much of a marksman. Of course, I have done some shooting, but there are boys here who have done much more, I guess. What's the range?"

"I haven't heard. But, being an officer, perhaps I might ask some one."

"Do not presume too much on your promotion," warned Dan. "You are only a very little officer. You may lose that rating if you are not careful."

"Then I'll get struck by lightning again, and get another one," answered Sam confidently.

That night the boys swung themselves up into their hammocks, full of antic.i.p.ation of what lay before them on the following day. It seemed as if they had no sooner gotten to sleep than the bugle sounded the reveille.

They were up and at their shower baths, laughing and chatting, a few minutes later. A happier, more care-free lot of hardy, brown-faced young fellows it would be difficult to find.

The early morning duties were quickly disposed of, for the word had been pa.s.sed along that they were to take their first turn at the targets that day. Some of the boys who had never handled a gun before were more curious than those who had. The latter, however, were no less anxious to be at it. When the command, "Fall in for target practice," was given, all hands felt like setting up a shout of joy. They restrained themselves, knowing full well that such a demonstration would bring swift and sure punishment.

After they had lined up, the officer in charge ordered certain of the men to fall out, they being wanted for other work. There were disappointed ones among these, but these were told they would be given their chance later in the week, as very many men could not be accommodated at one time. The target practice was to last nearly a week, two hours a day being devoted to it during this time.

All preparations having been made, the men were marched to the armory where they were equipped with their rifles and ammunition for the day.

The apprentices were to fire five rounds apiece, each day, only the average for the week to count.

"Keep your nerves steady, and don't try to do anything fancy, just because you are an officer," warned Dan.

"You squint through your own sights; I'll look after mine," retorted Sam.

Immediately after arriving at the range, the shooting began, one man taking a shot, then giving place to another.