"No, sir."

"Try it."

Sam took hold of the rope as he had seen his instructor do, glanced up at the spot where he was expected to place himself, then set his teeth tightly together. He sought to draw himself up slowly, after the manner that he had been shown, but somehow, strong as he was, his feet refused to leave the floor.

Sam let go, wiping the perspiration from his brow, and gripped the rope again. This time he made a leap. His head hit the ceiling and he sat down on the floor heavily.

"Ouch!" howled Sam, bringing a laugh from his companions and a smile to the face of the instructor.

"Attention! You will get the knack after a little. Did you hurt your head?"

"No-sir," answered Sam, "but I think I made a dent in the roof."

"Carry on again."

The apprentice gripped the rope rather more cautiously this time, measured his distance, and with head well inclined forward, so that he might not hit the ceiling again, he gave a mighty leap.

Sam did not stop when he reached the hammock, however. He kept right on.

The hammock turned over, spilling the bedding and mattress out. But this was not all that had happened. Hickey had lost his grip on the rope. The result was that he struck the floor on the other side, flat on his back.

The floor was of cement, and the shock of the fall was severe. Sam managed to save his head, however, and sat up rubbing himself, red of face and thoroughly disgusted.

"Clumsy!" complained the officer.

"Yes, sir; but you see I've never had to go to bed that way before."

"Try it again."

"If it's all the same to you, sir, I think I should prefer to sleep on the floor."

This reply brought another sharp reprimand from the officer. But their instruction in slinging hammocks was over and they turned to other matters.

CHAPTER V-TRYING OUT THEIR GRIT

Sam's billet was next to that of Louis Flink. The former was not aware of this until that night, when the lads turned in at the sound of the bugle. So close were their hammocks that either boy might have reached out and touched the other. Sam had turned in after several disastrous attempts and much quiet grumbling. Dan caught the knack of it more quickly, and so did Flink.

"Say, freckles, you're a thickhead," jeered Flink.

"I'd rather be a thickhead than a Pennsylvania Dutchman, any day,"

retorted the freckle-faced boy. "There's some hope for a thickhead, but there isn't any for you."

"I'll settle with you some other time," sneered Flink. Both were speaking in low tones, knowing that they would get at least a rebuke, were any of the officers to overhear them.

"Yes, that's your measure all right. I didn't give you away this morning. Neither did my friend, but it wasn't because we loved you. No, Blinkers, it was because we wanted to wait for the proper moment to give you the worst thrashing you ever had in your life. Don't bother me now; I want to go to sleep."

The first night of their stay at the training station pa.s.sed uneventfully. At the sound of the bugle, on the following morning, all hands started up suddenly. Sam Hickey muttered drowsily and turned over.

"Get up, thickhead!" jeered Flink, giving the lad a vicious dig with his fist.

"Wha-wha--" demanded Sam sleepily.

"Turn out, old chap," called Dan. "Didn't you hear the bugle?"

Sam suddenly bethought himself of his duty, but he did not give thought to the fact that he was in a hammock. He thought he was in bed. Without opening his eyes he started to get out in the usual way.

The result was inevitable. Sam once more flattened himself upon the hard cement floor underneath his billet. He was awake without further urging.

"Say, Dan, how long did we enlist for?" he demanded.

"Four years."

"Oh, help!" moaned Sam, pulling himself together and starting for the shower bath with his clothes under his arm. At the door of the bathroom he paused long enough to shake his fist at Flink.

"Blinkers, I remember now, something hit me this morning before I got my eyes open. Much obliged. That's another score you'll have to answer for when the day of reckoning comes around."

Flink grinned sarcastically, as he climbed down from his hammock and prepared to follow to the bathroom.

Breakfast that morning was more interesting. There were all of fifty boys in the mess of barracks A, all of whom marched across the grounds to the mess hall, the newcomers bringing up the rear in a straggling line.

"I guess we are not making much of a showing," grinned Dan. "Our fire company at home could beat the alignment of this bunch. But see how those boys up ahead are marching."

"Yes; n.o.body would think they were going to breakfast," replied Sam, with a hand slyly laid upon his stomach. "I have a goneness here that nothing except a hot breakfast will satisfy."

Practically the first duty of the day was drill. The apprentices were instructed in the rudiments of company drill. Led by a drum and bugle corps, they marched back and forth across the field in the sunlight, with the sparkling waters of the bay almost at their feet. Dan Davis had had some experience in drilling, and he proved himself an apt pupil.

After the drill the boys were marched to the drill hall, where they were given guns and instructed in the manual of arms.

"This is something like," grinned Sam, who was thoroughly at home with a gun in his hand. "I'd like to take this piece out and hunt woodchucks with it. I'll bet it's a dandy for chucks."

"Wouldn't it be likely to blow them off the face of the earth?"

questioned Dan, with a smile.

"It might that."

"Attention!" commanded the officer, who had caught the faint sound of voices. "No talking in the ranks."

The lads subsided instantly.

"We will now have a little physical drill, and after that a c.o.c.k-fight,"

announced the officer.

Dan and Sam glanced at each other in surprise.

"Going to have a rooster fight?" whispered Sam. "They're real sports up here, after all."