"Some of the middies will think we've come
in on purpose to see how they take their beating."
"They didn't get a bad enough beating to need to feel ashamed,"
replied Dick. "And we won't say a word about the game, anyway."
"May we come in?" called Prescott, knocking on the door of the
middies' quarters.
"Who's there?" called a voice. Then the Navy coach, in uniform,
opened the door.
"Oh, come in, gentlemen," called the coach, holding out his hand.
"And let me congratulate you, Prescott and Holmes, on the very
fine game that you two had a star part in putting up for the nine
from Crabtown."
"Thank you, sir," Dick replied. "But we didn't call on that account.
There are two old chums of ours here, sir, that we're looking for."
"See anything of them anywhere?" smiled Dave Darrin, stepping
forward, minus his blouse and holding out both hands.
Dick and Greg pounced upon Dave. Then Dan struggled into another
article of clothing and ran forward from the rear of the room.
"How soon do you go?" asked Dick eagerly.
"The 6.14 train to New York," replied Dave.
"Oh, then you're not going to have supper at cadet mess?" asked
Greg in a tone of deep disappointment.
"No," answered Dan Dalzell. "It would get us through too late.
We dine in New York on arrival."
"Hurry up and get dressed," Dick urged. Then, turning to the
coach, he inquired:
"May we keep Darrin and Dalzell with us, sir, until your train
leaves?"
"No reason on earth why you shouldn't," nodded the Navy coach.
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