A diminutive midshipman, seemingly hardly five feet tall, but fat, happy and careless looking, assisted by some vehement whispered advice of the left guide, shambled awkwardly to the front of the company, with his rifle on his right shoulder. "That chap over there said you meant me, mister," said the small midshipman, in an engaging manner. "Salute," ordered Cadet Lieutenant Drake, severely. "Certainly, mister," replied the young man, eagerly taking off his cap and bowing. "Put on that cap. Don't you know the rifle salute? Have you had any drill? What's your name?" "Reginald Mumma. These chaps call me Mama's Darling, mister; I wish you'd have it stopped." "When did you enter the Academy?" "A month ago, but I've been sick in the hospital; just got out yesterday." "Third petty officer, fall out of line of file closers. Drill Mr. Mumma as a recruit every day this week, and whenever the company has infantry, till he can take his place in ranks. Squads right, full step, march." CHAPTER V A MYSTERIOUS CRY The football season opened auspiciously for Annapolis. About fifty midshipmen were members of the football squad; these were excused from drills except on two afternoons of the week. Of those selected to play in regular games all were seasoned players, and except Bligh, all had played on the Naval Academy team the previous year. And so Stonewell and Robert and others were quite hopeful. The head coach was Professor Danton, the field coach Gates, a famous old Yale player. After several hard games on successive Wednesdays and Saturdays Stonewell was called into special consultation by Danton and Gates. "Stonewell," began Gates, "I've been watching our team, and I'm convinced we have a fine lot of men here; not only good football players but real trustworthy chaps, men who will keep their promise, whose word can be depended upon." "We don't want any other kind," replied Stonewell, thinking by Gates' manner that there was something in the wind. "I've been trying to size up each man's character," continued Gates, "and I've decided to put personal trust in every one of them. But I will exact an individual promise of secrecy from every member of the squad for something I'm going to give them. The matter is this: I have devised a forward pass which if it isn't expected and is properly executed is practically certain to bring a touch-down to the team that works it. I've sent it to Yale, where it has been tried out in secret practice, and the people there are wild over it. I've told them I wanted to give it to the midshipmen. They don't like that idea, but it's my own play, and I can do so if I wish to. They've asked me, if I give it to the midshipmen, to take every precaution for secrecy and not to use it until after Yale plays Harvard. Annapolis plays West Point the same day that Yale meets Harvard, and you could work the trick against the soldiers. It's a beauty. Now what do you say, Stonewell?"