They were wearing their new coats now, several inches longer in the tail, and denoting them as real officers in the Navy.

A non-graduate midshipman must salute one of these graduates whenever they meet.
In their room, to be occupied but one night more, Dave and Dan finished dressing in their new uniforms at the same moment.
"Shake, Danny boy!" cried Dave Darrin, holding out his hand.
"How does it seem, at last, to know that you're really an officer in the Navy ?" "Great!" gulped Dalzell.

"And I don't mind admitting that, during the last four years, I've had my doubts many a time that this great day would ever come for we.

But get your cap's and let's hustle outside." "Why this unseemly rush, Danny ?" "I want to round up a lot of under classmen and make them tire their arms out saluting me." "Your own arm will ache, too, then, Danny.

You are obliged, as of course you know, to return every salute." "Hang it, yes! There's a pebble in every pickle dish, isn't there ?" "You're going to the graduation ball tonight, of course ?" "Oh, surely," nodded Dalzell.