"We're going to win, just the same," announced Dan Dalzell.
"Sure?" questioned several voices.
"Oh, yes! It's all settled now," laughed Midshipman Waite. "I've been waiting for Danny boy to tell us. Now, we know—we've heard from the hot-air meter."
There was a laugh in which Dan didn't join readily, though his face reddened considerably. Midshipman Dalzell was one of those who always believed that the Navy must win, just because it was the Navy. Some of the other midshipmen didn't go quite as far as that in their confidence.
"Better not call Danny boy names," advised Dave Darrin gravely. "He might be sulking at just the time when we need him this afternoon."
"That would be unmilitary," retorted Mr. Waite.
"Oh, no," said Dave lightly. "Even as good a soldier as Achilles sulked in his tent, you know."
"Achilles? What class was he in, then?" demanded Waite. "I don't remember the name."
"He was in a class of his own, at the siege of Troy," volunteered Farley.
"Troy, N.Y.?" inquired Waite.