In five minutes both midshipmen were attired for their "affair." Between
them the different members of the party had smuggled ashore shoes, old
trousers and belts for the fighters.

It being a class affair, Remington, of the third class, had come along
as referee, while Dawley; was to be the time-keeper.

"If the principals are ready, let them step forward," ordered Midshipman
Remington, going to the middle of the floor. "Now, I understand that
this is to be a finish fight; rounds, two minutes; rests, two minutes. I
also understand that the principals do not care to shake hands before
the call to mix up."

Darrin and Pennington nodded their assent.

"Take your places, gentlemen," ordered the referee quickly. "Are you
ready, gentlemen?"

"Yes," came from both principals.

"Time!"

Both men had their guards up. As the word left the referee's lips each
tried two or three passes which the other blocked. Midshipman Pennington
was trying to take his opponent's "measure."

Then Dave ducked, darted, dodged and wheeled about. Pennington had to
follow him, and it made the latter angry.

"Stand up and fight, can't you," hissed Pen.