"There are worse liveries to wear than Uncle Sam's," murmured Dan
Dalzell when, having arrayed himself, he glanced down lovingly at the
neat, dark blue.

"Much worse," replied Dave briefly, as, having dressed, he set to work to
help make their quarters neat enough to please even the captious eye of
the discipline officer. By the time that the two midshipmen finished
policing their quarters no housekeeper in the land could have found the
least sign of disorder.

Rap-tap! sounded briskly at the door.

"Come in," called Dave.

The door opened, revealing Midshipman Hepson, of the first class.

"Are you fellows to rights?" he called.

"Come in, Hepson," urged Dave. "Yes; we're to rights as far as
quarters go."

Hepson came no more than inside the door before he halted, asking
briskly:

"Have you anything on!"

"Nothing but our clothes," grinned Dan, "and some hair."

"You've no appointments or engagements, then?" persisted Hepson. "My
being here won't interfere with anything that you want to do?"

"Not in the least," Dave replied.

"Oh, then, I'll invite myself to a chair," declared the first
classman, suiting the action to the word. "Now, you fellows can guess
why I'm here."

"You're captain of this year's football eleven," Dave replied. "Has that
anything to do with your call?"

"Everything," admitted Hepson briskly. "Have you fellows any notion that
we've a poor eleven, so far, this year?"

"Why I thought it pretty good, from the practice work that I saw done in
August," Darrin answered slowly.

"A pretty good eleven doesn't win games, sir," retorted Hepson. "Man,
we've got to strengthen the team all along the line, or I'll go down in
Naval Academy history as captain of the worst lot of dubs who ever chased
a pigskin around the field!"

"Is it as bad as that?" demanded Dan, opening his eyes.

"Dalzell," said Hepson, "our eleven is rotten, sir--simply and
fiercely useless!"

"If it's as bad as that," hinted Dan innocently, "wouldn't it be a prime
good idea to draw our eleven from the field this year?"

"What? Strike the Navy's colors, and especially to the Army?" glared Mr.
Hepson. "What are you talking about?"

"Then I guess," nodded Dan, "that we'll have to stay in the ring, and let
it go by apologizing to the Army for getting in their way on the field
the Saturday after Thanksgiving."

"We won't do that, either, by Jingo!" retorted Midshipman Hepson. "But
we've got to strengthen our team. W