Ta-ra-ra-ta-ra-ta! sounded musically in the corridors.

"Supper formation, by Jove!" gasped Dan.

Farley and Page fled without a word. Soon the "decks" of Bancroft Hall
swarmed with young life. Then, outside, to seaward, the brigade fell in
by companies.

Military commands rang out briskly, roll was called, reports made and the
brigade marched in to supper.

What a joyous, noisy affair it was. Some license in the way of
boisterousness was allowed this evening, and most of the young men took
full advantage of the fact.

Swat! A slice of bread, soaked in a glass of water and kneaded into a
soppy ball, struck Dalzell full in the back of the neck, plastering his
collar and sending a sticky mess down his spine.

"I'll fight the man who did that," promised Midshipman Dan, wheeling
around. Then added cautiously:

"If he's a graduate."

There being, naturally, no graduates present except the officer at the
furthest corner of the mess hall, Dan's challenge provoked laughter.

Many other pranks were played, but there is not room to record them here.
The meal over and the brigade dismissed, some of the midshipmen--there
were nearly eight hundred of them--went to their own quarters, or visited