Just as suddenly as it had begun the blanket-tossing stopped. Yet, hardly had Jack been allowed to step out than Hal Hastings was unceremoniously dropped athwart the blanket. The tossing began again, to the chant of:
Sir, sir, surcingle!
Sir, sir, circle!
Right plentifully were these cadet midshipmen avenging themselves for having had to say “sir” to these young submarine boys that day.
“Woof!” breathed Jack, as soon as breath entered his body again. Eph clenched his fists [pg 125] tightly, as Hal continued to go higher and higher. But at last Hastings's ordeal was over.
“I suppose they'll try that on me!” gritted Eph Somers to himself. “If they do—”
That was far as he got, for Eph was suddenly flung upon the blanket.
Sir, sir, surcingle!
Then how Eph did go up and down! It was as though these cadet midshipmen knew that it would make Eph mad, madder, maddest! These budding young naval officers fairly bent to their work, tautening and loosening on the blanket until their muscles fairly ached.
It was lofty aerial work that Eph Somers was doing. Up and up—higher and higher! Without the need of any effort on his own part young Somers was now traveling upward at the rate of ten or eleven feet at every punctuated bound.