"Most certainly I have," was the reply. "The marines figure in nearly every move our country makes in one way or another. They are always busy somewhere, though they get but little credit from the general public for their excellent work. I am not as familiar with their history as I should be--as every good American who has his country’s welfare at heart should be, I might add, though perhaps I know a little more about them than a vast majority. Were it not for the marines our firm would have lost thousands of dollars some years ago when the revolutionists started burning up the sugar mills and the cane fields in Cuba. Our government sent a few hundred marines down there in a rush and they put a stop to all the depredations in a most efficient manner. The presence on the premises saved our mill beyond a doubt. But, how do the marines figure in this discussion? You don’t mean----" "Well, you see, it’s this way," said the boy, and now his words no longer came slowly and haltingly, "I’ve made up my mind to become a Marine Officer, and if I can’t do it by the time I’m twenty-one, then my name isn’t Richard Comstock." "Bless me! How do you propose going about it, Dick? As I have told you, there is no chance of going to the Naval Academy this year, and I understand that all marine officers are appointed to the Corps from among Annapolis graduates. For that reason I do not believe you have----" "Excuse me, Dad, but that’s just where you are mistaken. All the marine officers don’t go through the Naval Academy. Some of them enlist and go up from the ranks. They win their shoulder straps on their own merit. That’s what I expect to do if you will only give me the chance. And you will, won’t you, Dad?" Dick’s voice trembled with eagerness as he put the momentous question. A few moments elapsed before his father answered and when he began speaking he reached out and gently placed his hand over that of his son. "Evidently you have been looking into this matter thoroughly. I know now what has been keeping you so silent these last few days. I suspected you were grieving over your disappointment at my inability to send you to the Naval School or possibly over the departure of your chum, Graham, but I might have known my boy was using his time to better advantage than ’crying over spilled milk.’" Mr. Comstock paused a moment and then continued: