"Dunno," grunted Dan. "But I have my own name for it. _I_ call
it the pinochle deck."

"I'm afraid that won't do to repeat," laughed Dave.

At that moment the handle of the door was turned. Five upper
class midshipmen entered, closing the door behind them. Then
they stood there, glaring at the two poor plebes in "cit." clothes.




CHAPTER III

A TASTE OF HAZING


"Good evening, gentlemen," nodded Dave pleasantly, as he rose
and stood by the study table, waiting to hear the pleasure of
his visitors.

Dan Dalzell favored his callers with a nod, but remained seated,
both hands thrust deep in his pockets.

"Get up on your feet, mister!" ordered one of the midshipmen,
so sternly that Dan obeyed like a shot.

"Excuse me," he began hastily. "I didn't know you came here in
an official capacity. I thought--"