The surgeon busied himself with dissolving a drug in a small quantity of water. This he took up in a hypodermic needle and injected into the lower jaw.
"The ache ought to stop in ten minutes, sir," continued the surgeon, turning to enter some memoranda in his record book.
After that the surgeon called up the ship's commander over the 'phone, and made known Pennington's report.
"Mr. Pennington, Captain Scott directs that you report at his office immediately," said the surgeon, as he turned away from the telephone.
"Very good, sir. Thank you, sir."
Both midshipmen saluted, then left the sick-bay.
"This is where you have to go up alone, I guess," hinted Midshipman Hallam.
"I'm afraid so," sighed Pennington.
"However, I'll be on the quarter-deck, and, if I'm wanted, you can send there for me."
"Thank you, old man. You're worth a brigade of Darrins—confound the greasing meddler!"