undergoing a
great change. Little by little the outline of a pig's foot was
appearing. The pig's foot was done in red, while the toe nails of the
foot were in blue.

"There; you can let the broncho up now," announced Johnson, after
putting the final touches to his artistic achievement.

The sailors piled off, while one of their number released the rope that
held the foot. Sam struggled to a sitting posture, much the worse for
wear, his hair standing up, his clothes soiled and disordered. But it
was the foot that attracted his attention. He surveyed it dubiously,
then his eyes wandered about the circle of laughing faces.

Sam grinned a sheepish grin.

"Fellows, you've insulted an officer and a gentleman, and I've got to
get even with you--no; I'll have you before the mast, every one of you,
so----"

All hands began grunting in imitation of a herd of pigs.

"I see I am not the only pig in the sty, after all," announced Seaman
Hickey cuttingly, as he calmly began pulling on his shoe over the sore
foot.

CHAPTER IX

LOWERING THE FLAG

"Colors! Fall in for colors!" shouted petty officers in different
parts of the ship as the bugle blew its warning notes.

Sam Hickey limped into place with the gun squad, and awaited the order
to march.

"Colors," means the formalities that are observed at sunset on
shipboard, consisting of impressive ceremonies when the Stars and
Strips are lowered from the after flagstaff. The ceremony of colors,
however, is never observed when the ship is under motion, but only when
the vessel is at anchor.

Just before the moment when the sun was to set, the different
divisions, in charge of midshipmen and ensigns, were marched to the
quarterdeck with measured step; then, facing toward amidships, they
banked themselves on each side of the deck. Behind the jackies, next
to the starboard and port rails, were the marines, carrying their
rifles.

Grouped aft on the starboard side was the band, its members resplendent
in white and gold uniforms.

Between these lines of color stood the captain and his executive
officer, facing the Flag that was lazily fluttering in the soft evening
breeze.

All was silence, the only sound being the water lapping the steel sides
of the battleship.

"Attention!"

The bugle blew a few short notes. The Flag began creeping slowly down
the after flagstaff, with every eye fixed on the ensign as it fluttered
toward the deck.

Instantly upon th