Upon glancing about the lad observed that there were no officers in sight. There was a reason for that, though he did not know it. The officers had been fully informed of what was to take place that evening, and hence discreetly kept away from the forecastle. However, there was, unknown to the others, a commissioned officer standing behind the weather cloth on the navigator’s bridge. The particular officer was an ensign, and when the hour for the boxing match approached he was joined by a brother officer. They peered down on the active scene below with keen interest. Being in a deep shadow they were unobserved by the men on the forward deck. Kester had not yet made his appearance, and the jackies shook their heads as they saw Dan strolling about, chatting and joking with a shipmate. “That’s the fellow,” said one of the ensigns to his companion, at the same time pointing to Dan. “Seems pretty light to match with a man of Kester’s build, doesn’t he?” “Yes, that is what I think. The boy has a steady eye, however. He seems a likely lad, but of course he can’t win the match.” “Wasn’t he up for something the other day?” “No, that was his friend, Hickey. The latter got two days in the brig for a row with this same Kester. I heard the captain saying, this evening, that he doubted the boy’s being to blame for that after all. He has heard something since about that affair.” “You aren’t worrying about it, are you?” laughed his companion. “Not particularly. I do not like to see injustice done, just the same. I should not be fit to be an officer if I felt otherwise. There comes the other one, now.” “The fellow Kester?” “Yes.” Bill Kester was clad in a pair of short trunks and canvas shoes, with a red handkerchief about his neck. He hopped into the ring, taking his seat in a corner, having chosen the one that suited him best. A moment later the referee that the men had chosen entered the ring. “Davis!” he called sharply. There was a movement outside the ring. “Here,” answered Dan, pausing in his conversation with a jackie. “Get into the ring, if you are going to.” Dan climbed through the ropes, smiled and nodded to the referee, then stood awkwardly twirling his white cap. “Take your corner.” The lad walked over and sat down. For the first time, he observed the scowling Bill Kester in the opposite corner, and Dan’s eyes took on a gleam of amusement as he noted the strips of plaster on his opponent’s nose, the swollen lips and discolored eyes. “Are you going to fight in that costume?” demanded the referee of Dan. “Certainly, unless there is objection.” “I know of none. Kester, do you object to Davis’s boxing with his clothes on?” Kester grinned and shook his head. Two pairs of gloves were passed through the ropes to the referee, who examined them inside and out. “Want to look at these, Bill?” Bill did. He scrutinized them even more carefully than had the referee before passing them back.