In another moment Jack had crushed the newspaper into his pocket---his decision made---jumped from the bench under the old oak tree and was speeding across the campus in the direction of the main dormitory entrance. Without waiting for the elevator he leaped the steps, three at a time, running up to the third floor, and thence down the corridor to No. 63---his "home," and that of his chum, Ted Wainwright. Out of breath, he hurled himself into the room. Ted was crouched over the study table, algebra in front of him, cramming for an examination. "There you are! Hip, hurrah!" Jack cried excitedly, thrusting the folded newspaper under Ted's eyes and pointing to the bold typed appeal for recruits, all the while keeping up a running fire of chatter. Ted was in the midst of a tantalizing equation. He was accustomed, however, to such invasions on the part of his chum, the two having lived together now for nearly three school years---ever since they had come to Brighton. Both boys were completing their junior year in the select little school for which the town of Winchester was famous. They lived at remote corners of the state and had met during the first week of their freshman year. They had found themselves together that first night when the "freshies" were lined up before the gymnasium to withstand the attack of the "sophs" in the annual fall cane rush. Together they had fought in that melee, and after it was all over, anointed each other with liniment and bandaged each other's battle scars. Jack was a spirited lad, ready always for a fight or a frolic, impetuous and temperamental; Ted had inherited his father's quiet tastes and philosophical views of life, looking always before he leaped, cautious and conservative. So, when Jack came bouncing in, gasping with excitement, Ted accepted the outburst as "just another one of chum's fits." "What's all the grand shebang about this time?" he queried, shoving the algebra aside and taking up the newspaper that had been thrust upon him. "I'm going---I'm not going to wait another minute---all the other fellows are going---my grandfather fought through the Civil War---it's me for the submarine fleet---I'm off this very-----" But before he could ramble any farther Ted took a hand in the oratory. "What's the matter, chum? Flunked in anything, or been out to see a new movie show, have you?" Jack ran his finger down the newspaper column to the advertisement for recruits. "There you are!" he shouted. "And what's more, I'm going to sign up this very afternoon. What's the use of waiting any longer? Here's a great chance to get out with the submarines---think of it!---and, gee, wouldn't that be bully? Look! Look! What do you say, old boy; are you going with me?" Jack's enthusiasm "got" Ted. Taking up the newspaper he read every word of the appeal, slowly, deliberately. Then he looked up at his chum. "Do you mean it, Jack; are you in earnest?" he asked, after a long pause.