"Come in," called Dave. The door opened, revealing Midshipman Hepson, of the first class. "Are you fellows to rights?" he called. "Come in, Hepson," urged Dave. "Yes; we're to rights as far as quarters go." Hepson came no more than inside the door before he halted, asking briskly: "Have you anything on!" "Nothing but our clothes," grinned Dan, "and some hair." "You've no appointments or engagements, then?" persisted Hepson. "My being here won't interfere with anything that you want to do?" "Not in the least," Dave replied. "Oh, then, I'll invite myself to a chair," declared the first classman, suiting the action to the word. "Now, you fellows can guess why I'm here." "You're captain of this year's football eleven," Dave replied. "Has that anything to do with your call?" "Everything," admitted Hepson briskly. "Have you fellows any notion that we've a poor eleven, so far, this year?" "Why I thought it pretty good, from the practice work that I saw done in August," Darrin answered slowly. "A pretty good eleven doesn't win games, sir," retorted Hepson. "Man, we've got to strengthen the team all along the line, or I'll go down in Naval Academy history as captain of the worst lot of dubs who ever chased a pigskin around the field!" "Is it as bad as that?" demanded Dan, opening his eyes. "Dalzell," said Hepson, "our eleven is rotten, sir--simply and fiercely useless!" "If it's as bad as that," hinted Dan innocently, "wouldn't it be a prime good idea to draw our eleven from the field this year?" "What? Strike the Navy's colors, and especially to the Army?" glared Mr. Hepson. "What are you talking about?" "Then I guess," nodded Dan, "that we'll have to stay in the ring, and let it go by apologizing to the Army for getting in their way on the field the Saturday after Thanksgiving." "We won't do that, either, by Jingo!" retorted Midshipman Hepson. "But we've got to strengthen our team. We've got to practice every minute that the commandant will allow us for practice. We've got to make a front-rank team out of--nearly nothing!" "Aren't there any good players who have been holding back?" asked Dave Darrin. "Two that I know of, Darrin," rejoined Hepson, fixing his eyes keenly on Dave. "Who are they?" "You and Dalzell." "We haven't backed out, or refused duty," Darrin retorted quickly. "No; but you haven't pushed yourselves forward any, either." "Well, we're hardly team material," objected Dave modestly. "However, I'll promise for myself and Dalzell, too, that we'll turn out to all the practice we can, and work like blazes!" "Will you?" cried Midshipman Hepson delightedly. He jumped up, grasping each midshipman by the hand in turn. "But you don't want to bank on us too much," Darrin continued. "You know, we've never played on anything as big as the Navy team. We used to be good enough little players on a country school team. But it's different here."