"THE MAN WORE A SLOUCH HAT"

"Bang," went the reveille gun at six in the morning, rattling every window in Bancroft Hall; and out of bed jumped Robert Drake in a hurry. He first took his customary cold shower-bath, and then quickly threw on his clothes. "Turn out, Stone," he called to his roommate, who was in his own sleeping room across the study. A suite for two midshipmen consists of two sleeping rooms separated by a longer room used in common by both, a large clothes closet, and a shower-bath.

Hardly had the reverberating roar of the morning gun died away than Bancroft Hall was filled with the harsh, sleep-blasting notes of discordant bugles.

"Turn out on this floor, turn out, turn out," called out Robert in the corridor just outside of his own room.

Then he entered the room next to his own, in which Peters and Glassfell roomed.

"All right, Bob," came from each sleeping room which opened into the study room where Robert had entered, and Robert left and rushed into the next room. It must be confessed that Robert was hardly out of the room when Glassfell was once more sound asleep. And further it is admitted that Robert did not give the same stern inspection to first classmen's rooms that he gave to those of the lower classes. He was satisfied with the report from his own classmates of "all right," but saw with his own eyes that all others were actually turned out. On this particular morning Mr. Harry Blunt, midshipman third class, was strangely very tired after what should have been eight hours of sleep, so tired, in fact, that neither gun-firing nor bugle detonation awakened him.

"Turn out, Blunt, turn out," called out Robert, standing over him. "Get up; you're on the report for not being turned out at reveille inspection."

Harry slowly turned out, and Robert rushed away to continue his inspection.

Breakfast formation came half an hour later. Most midshipmen were in ranks before roll call, but at the last note of the bugle swarms of midshipmen rushed madly from Bancroft Hall; midshipmen who had taken a few winks after reveille inspection, hoping to get to the formation without being marked late. This was Glassfell's habit, and he had developed remarkable skill in dressing himself while running at full speed. He would leave his room half dressed and at the end of a dead run he would appear in ranks ready for inspection.

"By George, Stone," said Robert later, "can you imagine there is anybody in the world who does more mad rushing than midshipmen do? We are jumped out of our sleep by a cannon going off right under us, and we run about in a feverish hurry all day long, always having to be present at some formation or other, always fearful of punishment if we are late at anything. And one day is just like another; we were jumped about all day long when we were plebes, and we are still at it."

Every minute of Robert's life was interesting and never had it been so full of zest as in this, his last year at Annapolis. He enjoyed his rank with its duties and authority as cadet lieutenant, also his studies and drills were engrossing. These days, though so crowded with detail, were much the same; several hours daily were spent in preparing lessons; recitations followed, and then at four o'clock came the afternoon drills. The practical drills supplemented the theoretical work in class rooms, and all was based upon what was to be required of the midshipmen after graduation. And as an important duty of graduated midshipmen is to teach and train enlisted men, Robert, in common with the rest of his classmates, was drilled at many different things. He commanded his own company at infantry and artillery manoeuvres and felt proud and important in this position, but at other times he was to be found at a forge, dirty with grime and sweat, or taking the place of a fireman at a boiler. He could now turn out a fair piece of work at the lathe, shaper, or drill-press; and he was quite at home in sailing a boat, running an engine or manipulating a twelve-inch gun turret. For at Annapolis drills are many and varied, and the mind, eye and hand are all trained together.

December passed and with it football was forgotten. In the last of January came the semi-annual examinations; of the first class there now remained but one-half of those who had originally entered.

In February occurred an incident of much interest to Robert. At a Saturday night dance he saw his first commander, Captain Blunt, and with the latter was Miss Helen, his daughter, and Harry Blunt's sister. It would be hard to decide who was most pleased at this meeting. Captain Blunt evinced real pleasure in meeting Robert again, and Helen's welcome was a genuinely glad one.

"Come and see us, Mr. Drake," said Captain Blunt to Robert; "I've given up my command and am on leave; I've brought Mrs. Blunt and Helen to Annapolis. We've opened our house here, as I'm going to be here for several months and then go to the Light House Board. Come and see us, and bring Mr. Stonewell with you."

Meanwhile Midshipman Henry Bligh lived a very quiet life. After the football game the reason for his dismissal from the squad became noised about, and Bligh felt he was ignored by upper classmen and shunned by his own class. He probably thought more of this than did anybody else and his thoughts were not happy. Besides, he was low in his studies and in danger of "bilging." He was barely satisfactory at the semi-annual examinations.

One night early in February, after taps inspection, and after the midshipmen in charge of floors had been sent to their rooms, the door of Bligh's room opened and that young man's head cautiously appeared. Looking up and down the corridor, and seeing the midshipmen in charge were not at their desks, Bligh left his room and walked to the end of the corridor for a glass of water. This act was inoffensive in itself, except that midshipmen are required to attend to such matters before ten o'clock or wait until after eleven; it was not yet eleven and naturally Bligh did not wish to be seen.

While drinking the water Bligh heard some steps on the stairway leading to the next upper floor, and fearing it might be the officer-in-charge he quickly slipped into a dark corner at the side of the stairway, hoping he would not be noticed; in a moment a figure passed a few feet from him, and to his surprise he saw it was Third Classman Blunt.

"Now, what's that fellow up to?" reflected Bligh, his mind full of the injuries he imagined he had received from Harry Blunt. Bligh peered around the corner and in the dim light he saw Harry quickly and quietly walk down the corridor and then stop for a moment in front of the door of the room that Bligh knew was the office of Lieutenant-Commander Brooks, one of the discipline officers. The next instant Harry had opened the door of this room and entered it. Bligh was astounded. He walked softly to the room, paused an instant, and then gently, without making any noise, turned the knob of the door.

The door was locked. Bligh was filled with wonder. It was evident that Blunt had a key to the door, had entered the room, and was now inside.

Bligh could not imagine why any midshipman should want to enter a discipline officer's room; it was certain no midshipman had a right to be in that office except to see Lieutenant-Commander Brooks on duty. Blunt was committing a serious offense in being in the room. This did not worry Bligh at all, but he was completely puzzled.

"What can Blunt be doing in there?" he asked himself again and again. He listened intently and heard Blunt moving about; and then he heard a noise as if a chair were being moved and had knocked against something. Looking up through the transom he saw it was all dark within; Blunt had not turned on any light.

Bligh now entered his own room, which was next to the one that Blunt had entered, and where Bligh now lived alone without a roommate. With a puzzled mind he drew a chair to his window, and thought and wondered. His imagination could not help him. He had been in the office next door and knew it contained nothing but a desk, a table, two chairs and a midshipman wardrobe where Lieutenant-Commander Brooks could hang a coat if he were so disposed.

Bligh sat by his window, his mind full of Harry Blunt. The soft moonlight streamed into his room. And then Bligh was startled by hearing a noise in the room next door, as if a window were being raised. Straining his eyes he looked out from his window, and in the next instant he saw the dark figure of a man creep out on the passageway leading from the window of the office to the terrace.

The man turned to his left, and with the bright moonlight full on his face Bligh got a good look at him, but did not recognize him. The man wore a slouch hat, sack coat, and had a moustache and full beard.

The dark figure stole over to the terrace and soon disappeared.

"Now I understand," cried Bligh to himself. "Blunt had an appointment with some 'cit' and they met in the room next door. He's up to something, and I'll see that he gets reported for this, and I hope it will bilge him."

Bligh now opened the door of his room and looked out, expecting every moment to see Harry Blunt emerge from the office. Bligh was thoughtful for a while, then he took a spool of black linen thread from a drawer in his wardrobe. He tied one end of the thread to the door-knob of the office and carried the thread overhead through the open transom of his room. He then sat in the chair by the window holding the thread hauled taut; and Bligh sat there for the next two hours, thread in hand.

At one o'clock his watchfulness was rewarded. He saw the figure of a man steal up over the terrace and across the passageway. And in the moonlight he recognized the same hat, moustache, beard and sack coat.

Bligh sat perfectly still, and it was not long before the thread in his hand suddenly pulled and snapped. Bligh quickly stepped to the doorway of his room and looked out, and there going down the corridor was Harry Blunt in his service uniform.

Then Mr. Henry Bligh, midshipman, fourth class, gave a pleased laugh and went to bed.