"It must be something fearful," said Mr. Stearns, who knew the junior officer's inclination to be duty-mad. "But, see here, if you make an official report you'll force me to take action, even though it's something that I'd secretly slap a midshipman on the shoulder for doing. No--don't begin to talk yet, Willow. Try a cigar and then tell me, personally, what's worrying you. Then perhaps it won't be altogether needful to make an official report." "I never was able to take you--er--somewhat jovial views of an officer's duty, Stearns," sighed Lieutenant Willow. Nevertheless, he selected a cigar, bit off the end, lighted it and took a few whiffs, Lieutenant-Commander Stearns all the while regarding his comrade in arms with twinkling eyes. "Now, fire ahead, Willow," urged the officer in charge, "but please don't make your communication an official one--not at first. Fire ahead, now, Willow." "Well--er--just between ourselves," continued Lieutenant Willow slowly, "there has been a fight to-night between two midshipmen." "No!" Lieutenant-Commander Stearns struck his fist rather heavily against the desk. "A fight--a real fight--with fists?" continued the officer in charge, in a tone of mock incredulity. "No, no, no, Willow, you don't mean it--you can't mean it!" "Yes, I do," rejoined the junior officer rather stiffly. "Oh, dear, what is the service coming to?" gasped Stearns ironically. "Why, Willow, we never heard of such things when we were midshipmen here. Now, did we?" "I'm afraid we did--sometimes," admitted the junior officer. "But duty is duty, you know, my dear Stearns. And this was an unusual fight, too. The man who was whipped insisted on another fight right then and there, and--he won the second fight." "Bully!" chuckled the officer in charge. "Whew, but I wish I had been there!" "Stearns, you surely don't mean that?" gasped duty-mad Mr. Willow. "You're quite right, Willow. No; I certainly don't want to be a spoilsport, and I'm glad I wasn't there--in my official capacity. But I'd like to have been divested of my rank for just an hour so that I could have taken in such a scene as that." "I'm--I'm just a bit astonished at your saying it, Stearns," rejoined Lieutenant Willow. "But then, you're always joking." "Perhaps I am joking," assented the officer in charge dryly, "but I never lose sight of the fact that our Navy has been built up, at huge expense, as a great fighting machine. Now, Willow, it takes fighting men to run a fighting machine. Of course, I'm terribly shocked to know that two midshipmen really had the grit to fight--but who were they! Mind you, I'm not asking you in an official way. This question is purely personal--just between ourselves. Who were the men? And, especially, who was the fellow who lost the decision, and then had the utter effrontery to demand a second chance at once, only to win the second fight?" "Darrin was the man who lost the first fight and won the second," replied Lieutenant Willow.