DAN RECEIVES A FEARFUL FACER
"Oh, you heap!" sighed Dan Dalzell dismally.
He sat in his chair, in their new quarters in Bancroft Hall, United
States Naval Academy, gazing in mock despair at the pile of new books
that he had just drawn.
These text-books contained the subjects in which a midshipman is
required to qualify in his second academic year.
"Been through the books for a first look?" called Dave from behind his
own study table.
"Some of 'em," admitted Dalzell. "I'm afraid to glance into the others."
"I've looked in all of my books," continued Darrin, "and I've just come
to a startling conclusion."
"What?"
"I'm inclined to believe that I have received a complete set of
text-books for the first and second classes."
"No such luck!" grunted Dan, getting up and going over to his chum. "Let
me see if you got all the books I did."
Before Dave could prevent it, Dan started a determined over-tossing of
the book pile. As he did so, Dan suddenly uncovered a photograph from
which a fair, sweet, laughing face gazed up at him.
"Oh, I beg a million pardons, Dave, old boy!" cried Dalzell.
"You needn't," came Dave's frank answer. "I'm proud of that treasure and
of all it means to me."
"And I'm glad for you, David, little giant."
Their hands met in hearty clasp, and that was all that was said on that
subject at the time.
"But, seriously," Dan grumbled on, after a while, "I'm aghast at what an
exacting government expects and demands that we shall know. Just look
over the list--mechanical drawing and mechanical processes, analytical
geometry, calculus, physics, chemistry, English literature, French and
Spanish, integral calculus, spherical trigonometry, stereographic
projection and United States Naval history! David, my boy, by the end of
this year we'll know more than college professors do."
"Aren't you getting a big head, Danny?" queried Darrin, looking up with
a smile.
"I am," assented Dalzell, "and I admit it. Why, man alive, one has to
have a big head here. No small head would contain all that the Academic
Board insists on crowding into it."
By the time that the chums had attended the first section recitations on
the following day, their despair was increased.
"Davy, I don't see how we are ever going to make it, this year," Dalzell
gasped, while they were making ready for supper formation. "We'll bilge
this year without a doubt."
"There's only one reason I see for hoping that we can get through the
year with fair credit," murmured Darrin.
"And what's that?"
"Others have done it, before us, and many more are going to do it this
year," replied Dave slowly, as he laid comb and brush away and drew on
his uniform blouse.
"I know men have gotten through the Naval Academy in years gone by,"
Dalzell agreed. "But, the first chance that I have, I'm going to look
the matter up and see whether the middies of old had any such fearful
grind as we have our noses held to."
"Oh, we'll do it," declared Darrin confidently. "I shall, anyway--for
I've got to!"
As he spoke he was thinking of Belle Meade, and of her prospects in life
as well as his own.
As the days went by, however, Dave and Dan became more and more dull of
spirits. The grind was a fearful one. A few very bright youngsters went
along all right, but to most of the third classmen graduation began to
look a thousand years away.
The football squad was out now and training in deadly earnest. There
were many big games to be played, but most of all the middies longed to
tow West Point's Army eleven into the port of defeat.
In their first year Dave and Dan had looked forward longingly to joining
the gridiron squad. They had even practised somewhat. But now they
realized that playing football in the second year at Annapolis must be,
for them, merely a foolish dream.
"I'm thankful enough if I can study day and night and keep myself up to
2.5," confessed Darrin, as he and Dan chatted over their gridiron
longings.
Two-and-five tenths is the lowest marking, on a scale of four, that will
suffice to keep a midshipman in the Naval Academy.
"I'm not going to reach 2.5 in some studies this month," groaned Dan. "I
know that much by way of advance information. The fates be thanked that
we're allowed until the semi-ans to pick up. But the question is, are we
ever going to pick up? As I look through my books it seems to me that
every succeeding lesson is twice as hard as the one before it."
"Other men have gone through, every year."
"And still other men have been dropped every year," Dalzell dolefully
reminded him.
"We're among those who are going to stay," Dave contended stubbornly.
"Then I'm afraid we'll be among those who are dropped after Christmas
and come back, next year, as bilgers," Dalzell groaned.
"Now, drop that!" commanded Darrin, almost roughly. "Remember one thing,
Daniel little lion slayer! My congressman and your senator won't appoint
us again, if we fail now. No talk of that kind, remember. We've got to
make our standing secure within the next few weeks."
Before the month was over the football games began in earnest on the
athletic field. Darrin and Dalzell, however, missed every game. They
were too busy poring over their text-books. Fortunately for them their
drills, parades and gym. work furnished them enough exercise.
The end of October found Darrin at or above 2.5 in only three studies.
Dan was above 2.5 in two studies--below that mark in all others.
"It's a pity my father never taught me to swear," grumbled Dalzell, in
the privacy of their room.
"Stow that talk," ordered Darrin, "and shove off into the deeper waters
of greater effort."
"Greater effort?" demanded Dan, in a rage. "Why I study, now, every
possible moment of the time allowed for such foolishness. And we can't
run a light. Right after taps the electric light is turned off at the
master switch."
"We're wasting ninety seconds of precious time, now, in grumbling,"
uttered Dave, seating himself doggedly at his study table.
"Got any money, Darry?" asked Dalzell suddenly.
"Yes; are you broke?"
"I am, and the next time I go into Annapolis I mean to buy some
candles."
"Don't try that, Danny. Running a light is dangerous, and doubly so with
candles. The grease is bound to drip, and to be found in some little
corner by one of the discipline officers. It would be no use to study if
you are going to get frapped on the pap continuously."
Immediately after supper both midshipmen forfeited their few minutes of
recreation, going at once back to their study tables. There they
remained, boning hard until the brief release sounded before taps was
due.
Almost at the sound of the release there came a knock at the door.
Farley and his roommate, Page, came bounding in.
"I've got to say something, or I'll go daffy," cried Farley, rubbing his
eyes. "Fellows, did you ever hear of such downright abuse as the second
year course of studies means?"
"It is tough," agreed Dave. "But what can we do about it, except fight
it out?"
"Can you make head or tail out of calculus?" demanded Farley.
"No," admitted Darrin, "but I hope to, one of these days."
Just then Freeman, of the first class, poked his head in, after a soft
knock.
"What is this--a despair meeting?" he called cheerily.
"Yes," groaned Page. "We're in a blue funk over the way recitations are
going."
"Oh, buck up, kiddies!" called Freeman cheerily, as he crossed the
floor. "Youngsters always get in the doldrums at the beginning of the
year."
"You're a first classman. When you were in the third class did you have
all the studies that we have now?"
"Every one of them, sir," affirmed Midshipman Freeman gravely, though
there was a twinkle in his eyes.
"And did you come through the course easily?" asked Page.
"Not easily," admitted the first classman. "There isn't anything at
Annapolis that is easy, except the dancing. In fact, during the first
two months very few of our class came along like anything at all. After
that, we began to do better. By the time that semi-ans came around
nearly all of us managed to pull through. But what seems to be the worst
grind of all--the real blue paint?"
"Calculus!" cried the four youngsters in unison.
"Why, once you begin to see daylight in calculus it's just as easy as
taking a nap," declared the first classman.
"At present it seems more like suffering from delirium," sighed Dave.
"What's the hard one for to-morrow?" asked Freeman.
"Here it is, right here," continued Dave, opening his text-book. "Here's
the very proposition."
The others crowded about, nodding.
"I remember that one," laughed Freeman lightly. "Our class named it
'sticky fly paper.'"
"It was rightly named," grumbled Farley.
"None of you four youngsters see through it?" demanded Midshipman
Freeman.
"Do you mean to claim, sir, that you ever did?" insisted Dan Dalzell.
"Not only once, but now," grinned Mr. Freeman. "You haven't been looking
at this torturing proposition from the right angle--that's all. Now,
listen, while I read it."
"Oh, we all know how it runs, Mr. Freeman," protested Page.
"Nevertheless, listen, while I read it."
As the first classman read through the proposition that was torturing
them he threw an emphasis upon certain words that opened their eyes
better as to the meaning.
"Now, it works out this way," continued the first classman, bending over
the disk and drawing paper and pencil toward him. "In the first place."
Freeman seemed to these youngsters like a born demonstrator. Within five
minutes he had made the "sticky fly paper" problem so plain to them all
that they glanced from one to another in astonishment.
"Why, it does seem easy," confessed Farley.
"It sounds foolish, now," grinned Darrin. "I'm beginning to feel ashamed
of myself."
"Mr. Freeman," protested Page, "you've saved us from suicide, or some
other gruesome fate."
"Then I'll drop in once in a while again," promised the first classman.
"But that will take time from your own studies," remonstrated Darrin
generously.
"Not in the least. I won't come around before release. By the time a
fellow reaches the first class, if he's going to graduate anyway, he
doesn't have to study as hard as a youngster does. The man who reaches
the first class has had all the habits of true study ground into him."
Darrin, Dalzell, Farley and Page were all in different sections in
mathematics. When they recited, next day, it so happened that each was
the man to have the "sticky fly paper" problem assigned to him by the
instructor. Each of the quartette received a full "4" for the day's
marking.
"Did you have any assistance with this problem, Mr. Darrin?" asked
Dave's instructor.
"Yes, sir; a member of the first class tried to make it plain to me last
night."
"He appears to have succeeded," remarked the instructor dryly.
There was, however, no discredit attached to having received proper
assistance before coming into section.
True to his promise Freeman dropped in every fourth or fifth evening, to
see if he could be of any help to the four youngsters. Always he found
that he could be.
Even when Thanksgiving came, Dave Darrin did not go to Philadelphia, but
remained at the Academy, devoting his time to study.
Dan, in sheer desperation, took in the trip to Philadelphia. He hoped to
meet Dick Prescott and Greg Holmes, but they did not come down from West
Point.
On the first day of December, Dan Dalzell's name was formally reported
by the Academic Board in a report to the superintendent which
recommended that Midshipman Dalzell be dropped from the rolls for
"inaptitude in his studies."
Poor Dan. It was a staggering blow. Yet it struck Dave Darrin just about
as hard.