"Come on, Fismes, old boy; you've been with us in more than one pinch and saw us safely through," called Jay a few mornings later to the famous dog of war that he and Dick Monaghan had brought home with them from the North Sea. Ensigns Thacker and Monaghan, home less than a week, were losing no time. It was only three months until the opening of Brighton Academy for the fall term, and both lads were keen on getting back again to finish their preparatory school courses. A job! That was what they wanted. The chance to earn a few dollars that would go a long way toward seeing them through their final year at Brighton. Jay was a fatherless lad whose dad had lost his life some years previously in the big shipyard that was one of the major industries of the hustling New England city of Bridgeford. His mother had been able to make things go by reason of a small English estate left her by an aunt, together with an allowance provided by the shipbuilding company. An only sister had made ready money during the war in the central offices. Jay had helped work his way through three years at Brighton and was all set on a college career. His chum, Dick Monaghan, came of a family of moderate means. Neither lad was averse to good honest toil, and invariably spent the summer recess between school years working in the shipyards at one job or another. Tall, well-built as a result of their athletic training on the football field and in the "gym" at Brighton, they could stack up against the toughest kind of work and get away with it. Back from war, without funds except for the final pay-off, they were out again for a summer job. The home-coming had been a joyous reunion; hearty handshakes, reminiscences of the long campaign and a friendly succession of "Good work, boys," and "We're proud of you." But the job was now the thing--and the sooner the better for this pair. "Come on, Fismes, you'll have to help us put this over," sang out Dick, as he swung alongside his chum, and together they set their faces toward the waterfront, with the dog tagging along at their heels. "Think we'll have any trouble horning in again at the old works," suggested Dick as they elbowed their way along, bowing to various friends whom they chanced to pass. "Well, they've been laying some of the hands off, according to what I hear," answered Jay. "However, there's no telling until we try; there may be a chance for a couple of retired seadogs." "Here's hoping," was Dick's optimistic sally. Soon they were in sight of the familiar old shipyard; the giant steel-framed shipways looming against the sky like monster spider webs; the throbbing rat-tat-tat of the riveting machines borne into their ears with a haunting familiarity. "Just the same as ever, kiddo," laughed Jay, as he turned to his chum. "Only bigger and busier than ever finishing up contracts," came the reply.