Dave Darrin's Second Year at Annapolis Part 25

"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 cla.s.s, 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 cla.s.sman. When you were in the third cla.s.s 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 cla.s.sman. "There isn't anything at Annapolis that is easy, except the dancing. In fact, during the first two months very few of our cla.s.s 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 cla.s.sman.

"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 cla.s.s 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 cla.s.sman 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 cla.s.sman, 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 cla.s.sman.

"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 cla.s.s, 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 cla.s.s 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 a.s.signed to him by the instructor. Each of the quartette received a full "4" for the day's marking.