"Ah, I thought I heard something like a scrimmage in the room," assented Lieutenant Cotton. "Yet remember, gentlemen, that quarters is not the place for football practice."
"Very good, sir; thank you, sir," replied the unmovable Hepson.
"And remember that it is now very close to the time for study call," continued the O.C.
"Yes, sir; thank you, sir. We are just parting to our various quarters, sir."
"Good evening, gentlemen."
"Good evening, sir."
Lieutenant Cotton passed on down the corridor, and the midshipmen eased themselves from the rigid position of attention.
"That was a narrow squeak," grunted Hepson. "Now, Jetson, get out ahead."
"I'll renew this argument at another time," retorted Jetson slowly, as he crossed the floor.
"You don't need to, sir," Midshipman Hepson advised him. "Every gentleman here will agree with me that Mr. Dalzell had the best of the affair right up to the end. Nor is Mr. Dalzell under any obligation whatever to afford you another meeting on the score of to-night's disagreement."