We're as good as second lieutenants already, Holmesy!" While thus chatting, however, the two chums were keeping pace with their comrades of the nine.

The nine from Annapolis moved in a compact group a little ahead down the road.
Just before the Army ball-tossers reached the dressing quarters, Lieutenant Lawrence, their coach, hastened ahead of them, meeting them in the doorway.
"The best nine we've had in a long number of years, gentlemen," glowed coach, as he shook the hand of each in passing.

"Thank you all for your splendid, hard work!" Thanks like that was sweet music, after all.

But Dick raced to dressing quarters full of but one thing.
"Quick, Holmesy! We don't know how soon the Navy team may have to run down the road to a train." "Aren't they going to have supper at the mess ?" demanded Greg, as he stripped.
"I don't know; I'm afraid not." Dick and Greg were the first of the Army nine to be dressed in their fatigue uniforms.

Immediately they made a quick break for the Navy quarters.
"It looks almost cheeky to throw ourselves in on the other fellows," muttered Greg dubiously.