As for Pennington, that midshipman had wheeled and was stealing rapidly
down the passageway, intent only on escape.

"That was the closest squeak we'll ever have without being ragged cold,"
murmured Dalzell tremulously.

"Where is Pennington?" demanded Dave, wheeling about after he had
watched the Naval lieutenant out of sight.

"Ducked out of sight, like a submarine," chuckled Dan.

At that moment the call for midshipmen's dinner formation sounded. Dave
and Dan were ready.

Pennington showed up just after the line had started to march into the
midshipmen's mess tables.

To the inquiry of the officer in charge, Pen lamely explained that he
had bumped his nose into something hard in a poorly lighted passageway.

Though the officer accepted the excuse, he smiled within himself.

"It wasn't iron or steel that bumped that young man's nose," thought the
officer.

"Oh, the middies haven't changed a lot since I boned at Annapolis!"

Pennington's nose was no very lovely member of his face at that moment.
It had been struck hard, mashed rather flat, and now looked like a red
bulb.