Jack pranced as best he could, on all fours, Hal making the load of his
own weight as light as he could. Over the ground the pair moved in this
nonsensical ride, the cadets following and grinning their appreciation of
the nonsense.

Two of the young men followed, holding Eph by the arms between them. Mr.
Merriam now turned upon the unhappy freckled boy.

“Down on all fours,” ordered Mr. Merriam. “You’re the measly dog that
barked at General Washington on that famous ride. Bark, you wretched
yellow cur—bark, bark, _bark_!”

Though Eph Somers was madder than ever, he had just enough judgment
remaining to feel that the wisest thing would be to obey instructions. So,
on all fours, Eph raced after Jack, barking at him.

“See how frightened the horse is,” muttered one of the midshipmen.

Taking the hint, Jack shied as well as he could.

“That’s all,” said Mr. Merriam, at last. “All of that, at least.”

As the three submarine boys rose, each found himself gently held by a pair
of cadet midshipmen. It was a more or less polite hint that the ordeal was
not yet over. Mr. Merriam turned to whisper to one of the cadets, who
darted inside the barracks building. He was back, promptly, carrying a
folded blanket on his arm.

A grin spread over the faces of the assembled cadet midshipmen. The bearer