"I---I'm feeling ill---or I'm going to."

"Don't have cold feet, old fellow. Take your dose like a man---if
you have to."

"D-Dave, I wonder if I couldn't have a real sickness? Couldn't
it be something so you'll have to jump up and help me to hospital?
Couldn't I have---a---a fit?"

"A midshipman subject to fits would be ordered before a medical
board, and then dropped from the brigade," Dave replied thoughtfully.
"No; that wouldn't do."

That meddling discipline officer was getting closer and closer.
Dave and Dan could hear him asking questions in each room that
he visited. And there are no "white lies" possible to a midshipman.
When questioned he must answer truthfully. If the officers over
him catch him in a lie they will bring him up before a court-martial,
and his dismissal from the service will follow. If the officers
don't catch him in a lie, but his brother midshipmen do, they
won't report him, but they'll ostracize him and force him to resign.
A youngster with the untruthful habit can find no happiness at the
Naval Academy.

"He---he's in the next room now," whispered Dan across the few
feet of space.

"Yes," returned Dave Darrin despairingly, "and I can't think of
a single, blessed way of getting you out of the scrape."