“Hurray for the Yankee who saved a king,” shrieked little Nanny. “Three cheers and—and a whole cageful of tigers.”
The cheers were given and the tigers, too, but in subdued tones. It is not considered the proper thing to make much noise on board an American war vessel.
“You make one good speech now,” insisted Trolley, grinning broadly.
“Not much,” was Clif’s flat refusal. “I draw the line at that. What’s all this row about, anyway? One would think war had been declared at the very least.”
“Something more important than that, dear boy,” drawled Toggles. “I’ll wager anything the news is being cabled about the world this very minute. And the name of Clifford Faraday, new fourth class plebe, function, and rescuer of kings in general, will be in everybody’s mouth before dinner. Clif, your fortune is made. I see you Lord High Muck-a-Muck of Portugal before you are a day older.”
Clif laughed carelessly.
“I am content to remain a cadet in the United States Naval Academy,” he replied. “That’s honor enough for me.”
“What did the girl say?” asked Nanny, slyly. “I saw you talking to her after your great act.”
“If you want to know, youngster, she asked me to tea to-night and I accepted the invitation. She also said she would like to have me bring another cadet.”
A hubbub broke out at once. Every plebe within hearing was eager to be selected.