ey 'Bazoo.'"

"Have you seen another copy of the 'Bazoo' lately, mister?"

"Yes, sir," admitted Dave, his face growing still redder.

"Ah! He saw it--and still he did not die of shame!" murmured
Second Class Man Jones.

"Shocking depravity!" groaned Midshipman Hurlburt.

"Since you have already scanned the 'Bazoo,'" resumed Midshipman
Paulson, "you will have no difficulty in finding the page, mister,
on which the editor of the 'Bazoo' sings his silly praise of you.
Turn to that page, mister."

Dave further unfolded the paper, coming to the page on which the
fearful article was printed. As he glanced at it Dave saw that
the article had been marked in blue pencil, and many of the paragraphs
numbered.

"Since you admit having read the 'Bazoo's' infamous article, mister,"
continued Midshipman Paulson, "tell us whether any of the scurrilous
charges therein are true?"

"The quotation from the official report, sir, being correct as
a copy, is bound to be true--"

"Official reports at the Naval Academy are always true," retorted
Paulson severely. "Proceed, sir, to the comments which the ink-slinger
of the 'Bazoo' has made concerning you. Mister, read the paragraph
numbered 'one.'"

In a voice that shook a trifle Dave read:

_"Dave Darrin is, beyond any question or cavil, one of the
brightest, smartest, bravest and most popular boys who ever went
forth into the world as a true son of old Gridley."_

"Mister," declared Paulson, "you may gloss over some of the slander
in those words by singing them to the tune of 'Yankee Doodle.'"

Dave flushed. There was a momentary flash in his eyes. Dan,
watching his chum covertly, was briefly certain that Darrin was
going to balk. Perhaps he would even fight.

True hazing, however, does not aim at cruelty, but at teaching a
new man to obey, no matter how absurd the order.

In another moment the grim lines around the corners of Dave's mouth
softened to a grin.

"Wipe off that ha-ha look, mister!" warned Youngster Paulson.

"I'll sing, gentlemen, if you think you can stand it," Dave promised.

"You'll sing, mister, because you've been ordered to do so," reported
Paulson as master of ceremonies. "Now, then, let us have that
paragraph to the air of 'Yankee Doodle.'"

Dave obeyed. To do him justice, he sang the best that he knew how,
but that wasn't saying much for quality. Dave had a good voice for
a leader of men, but a poor one for a singer.

Somehow, he got