of the blanket at once unfolded it. As many of the cadets as could got
hold of the edges, bending, holding the blanket spread out over the
ground.

Jack Benson’s two captors suddenly hurled him across the length of the
blanket with no gentle force. Instantly the cadets holding the blankets
straightened up, jerking it taut. Up into the air a couple of feet bounded
Jack. As his body came down the cadets holding the blanket gave it a still
harder jerk. This time Jack shot up into the air at least four feet. It
was the same old blanket-tossing, long popular both in the Army and Navy.
Every time Jack landed the blanket was given a harder jerk by those
holding it. Benson began to go higher and higher.

[Illustration: Eph Raced After Jack, Barking at Him.]

Eph Raced After Jack, Barking at Him.


And now the cadets broke into a low, monotonous chant, in time to their
movements. It ran:

Sir, sir, surcingle!
Sir, sir, circle!
Sir, sir, with a shingle—
Sir, sir, sir!

As regular as drumbeats the cadets ripped out the syllables of the
refrain. At each word Jack Benson’s body shot higher and higher. These
young men were experts in the gentle art of blanket-tossing. Ere long the
submarine boy was going up into the air some eight or nine feet at every