"Not tonight, Dan."
"Then I'm going to get in between sheets. It's chilly here in the room."
"Duck!" whispered Dave with sudden energy.
Footsteps could be heard coming down the corridor. It was a noise like a discipline officer.
Three doors above that of the room occupied by our midshipman friends were opened, one after the other. Then a hand rested on the knob of the door to Dave and Dan's room. The door was opened, and the rays of a pocket electric light flashed into the room.
Dan lay on one side, an arm thrown out of bed, his breathing regular but a trifle loud. Dave Darrin had again found recourse to a snore.
In an instant the door closed. Any discipline officer ought to be satisfied with what this one had seen.
"Safe!" chuckled Dalzell.
"An awfully close squeak," whispered Dave across the intervening room.
"What if he had started his rounds ten minutes earlier?"