Dave Darrin's First Year at Annapolis Part 15

Dave flushed, this time. Dodging two of Farley's blows he next moved as though about to retreat.

Instead, however, Darrin leaped up and forward.

Pound! Dave's hard left fist landed crus.h.i.+ngly near the point of Farley's jaw.

Down went the larger man, while his seconds rushed to him.

Mids.h.i.+pman Trotter, watch in hand, began calling off the seconds.

Steadily he counted them, until he came to "--eight, nine, _ten_!"

Still Farley lay on the ground, his good eye, as well as his damaged one, closed.

If he was breathing it was so slightly that his seconds, not permitted under the rules to go close, could not detect the movements of respiration.

"He loses the count," announced Second Cla.s.s Man Tyson, in businesslike tones. "I award the fight to Mister Darrin."

Always the ceremonious "mister" with which upper cla.s.s men refer to new fourth cla.s.s men. It is not until the plebe becomes a "youngster" that the "mister" is dropped for the more friendly social address.

Farley's seconds were kneeling at his side now.

"Can you bring him out easily?" asked Mids.h.i.+pman Tyson, going over to the defeated man's seconds.

"He's pretty soundly asleep, just now," put in Mids.h.i.+pman Trotter.

"My, but that was a fearful crack you gave your man, mister!"

"I'm sorry if I have had to hurt him much," replied Dave coolly.

"I am not keen for fighting."

Dan and Rollins offered their services in helping to bring Farley to, only to met by a curt refusal from Mids.h.i.+pman Henkel.

So Dave and his seconds stood mutely by, at a distance, while the two officials in the late fight added their efforts to those of the seconds of the knocked-out man.

At last they brought a sigh from Farley's lips.

Soon after the defeated mids.h.i.+pman opened his eyes.

"Is--Darrin--dead?" he asked slowly, with a bewildered look.

Mids.h.i.+pman Trotter chuckled.

"Not so you could notice it, mister. But you surely had a close call. Do you want to try to sit up?"

This Farley soon concluded to do. Then his seconds dressed him.

"Now, see if you can stand on your feet," urged Mids.h.i.+pman Tyson.

By this time Farley's wits had returned sufficiently for him to have a very fair idea of what had pa.s.sed.

Aided by Henkel and Page Mids.h.i.+pman Farley got to his feet. There he stood, dizzily, until his late seconds gave him stronger support.

"You can't go back to Bancroft while you are in this condition, mister," hinted Tyson decidedly. "You'll have to pa.s.s in review before one of our medical gentlemen, and do whatever he deems best."

"Dan," murmured Dave, "go over and ask Farley whether he cares to shake hands."

Dan crossed in quest of the information.

"Never!" growled Farley, with a hissing intake of breath.

"It's a shame to have bad blood after the fight is over," muttered Tyson rebukingly.

"I don't want anything to do with that fellow until we meet again,"

growled Farley.

"Great Scott, mister! You don't think of calling Mister Darrin out again, do you?" demanded Tyson, with a gasp.

"Yes; if he can be made to fight fair!" snarled Farley.

"He fought fairly this time, mister," replied Second Cla.s.s Man Tyson, almost with heat. "You're a fast, heavy and hard sc.r.a.pper for your age, mister, but the other man simply out-pointed you all through the game. If you call him out again, and he meets you, he can kill you if he sees fit."

"Misters," directed Mids.h.i.+pman Trotter, addressing Henkel and Page, "you'd better hurry to get your man over to a surgeon if you want to be in your rooms at lights-out time."

As Page and Henkel started away with their unfortunate comrade, Dave approached Tyson.

"Sir, do you believe that I fought with entire fairness?" asked Darrin of the referee.

"Fair? Of course you did, mister," replied Tyson. "Come along, Trotter."

Dave, who had dressed some time before, now turned with Dan and Rollins and started back. They took pains not to be seen close to the upper cla.s.s men.

"Who won?" demanded a fourth cla.s.s man, curiously, as they neared Bancroft Hall.

"Farley will tell you tomorrow if he's able," grinned Dan.

When taps sounded on the bugle, that evening, all of the mids.h.i.+pmen, save Farley, were in their rooms.

Promptly as the last note of taps broke on the air the last of the mids.h.i.+pmen was in bed, and the electric light was turned off from a master switch. The inspection of rooms was on.

CHAPTER IX

DAN JUST CAN'T HELP BEING "TOUGE"

Fourth Cla.s.s Man Farley did not put in an appearance at breakfast formation in the morning.

As this was the opening day of the first term of the academic year it was a bad time to be "docked for repairs" at the hospital.