r?"

"He didn't, though," replied Dan contentedly.

Now another set of footsteps passed hurriedly along the "deck" outside.

"What's that?" questioned a voice sharply. "You say that you saw
some one entering a room from the upper end of the terrace?"

"Oh, by George," groaned Dan Dalzell, now beginning to shiver
in earnest. "Some meddling marine sentry has gone and whispered
tales."

"Keep a stiff upper lip," Dave whispered hoarsely, encouragingly.
"If the officer returns don't give yourself away by your shaking."

"But if he asks me?"

"If you're asked a direct question," sighed Dave mournfully, "you'll
have to give a truthful answer."

"And take my medicine!"

"Of course."

That annoying discipline officer was now on his way back, opening
doors once more. Moreover, the two very wide-awake midshipmen
could hear him asking questions in the rooms further along the
"deck."

"He's questioning each man," whispered Dave.

"Of course," nodded Dan gloomily.

"It'll be our turn soon."

"D-D-Dave!"

"What?"

"I---I'm feeling ill---or I'm going to."

"Don't have cold feet, old fellow. Take your dose like a man---if
you have to."

"D-Dave, I wonder if I couldn't have a real sickness? Couldn't
it be something so you'll have to jump up and help me to hospital?
Couldn't I have---a---a fit?"

"A midshipman subject to fits would be ordered before a medical
board, and then dropped from the brigade," Dave replied thoughtfully.
"No; that wouldn't do."

That meddling discipline officer was getting closer and closer.
Dave and Dan could hear him asking questions in each room that
he visited. And there are no "white lies" possible to a midshipman.
When questioned he must answer truthfully. If the officers over
him catch him in a lie they will bring him up before a court-martial,
and his dismissal from the service will follow. If the officers
don't catch him in a lie, but his brother midshipmen do, they
won't report him, but they'll ostracize him and force him to resign.
A youngster with the untruthful habit can find no happiness at the
Naval Academy.

"He---he's in the next room now," whispered Dan across the few
feet of space.

"Yes," returned Dave Darrin despairingly, "and I can't think of
a single, blessed way of getting you out of the scrape."

"Woof!" sputtered Midshipman Dan Dalzell, which was a brief way
of saying, "Here he comes, now, for our door."

Then a hand rested on the knob and the do