“Will you, old man?  I’ll be a thousand times obliged!”

So the pair went off in search of the sick-bay, as the hospital part of a battleship is called.  The surgeon was not in his office adjoining, but the hospital steward called him over one of the ship telephones, informing him that a midshipman was suffering with an ulcerated tooth.

Dr. Mackenzie came at once, turned on a reflector light, and gazed into Midshipman Pennington’s mouth.

“Have you tried to treat this tooth yourself, in any way?” queried the ship’s surgeon.

“Yes, sir; I was so crazy with the pain, while in Annapolis, that I am afraid I did something that will get me into trouble,” replied Pennington, with a quiver in his voice.

“What was that?” asked Dr. Mackenzie, glancing at him sharply.  “Did you try the aid of liquor?”

“Worse, I’m afraid, sir.”

“Worse?”

Pennington told of his experience with the opium pipe.

“That’s no good whatever for a toothache, sir,” growled Dr. Mackenzie.  “Besides, it’s a serious breach of discipline.  I shall have to report you, Mr. Pennington.”

“I expected it, sir,” replied Pennington meekly.

“However, the report won’t cure your toothache,” continued Dr. Mackenzie in a milder tone.  “We’ll attend to that first.”

The surgeon busied himself with dissolving a drug in a small quantity of water.  This he took up in a hypodermic needle and injected into the lower jaw.

“The ache ought to stop in ten minutes, sir,” continued the surgeon, turning to enter some memoranda in his record book.

After that the surgeon called up the ship’s commander over the ’phone, and made known Pennington’s report.

“Mr. Pennington, Captain Scott directs that you report at his office immediately,” said the surgeon, as he turned away from the telephone.

“Very good, sir.  Thank you, sir.”

Both midshipmen saluted, then left the sick-bay.

“This is where you have to go up alone, I guess,” hinted Midshipman Hallam.

“I’m afraid so,” sighed Pennington.

“However, I’ll be on the quarter-deck, and, if I’m wanted, you can send there for me.”

“Thank you, old man.  You’re worth a brigade of Darrins—­confound the greasing meddler!”

“Darrin acted according to his best lights on the subject of duty,” remonstrated Mr. Hallam mildly.

“His best lights—­bah!” snarled Pennington.  “I’ll take this all out of him before I’m through with him!”

Pennington reported to the battleship’s commander.  After some ten minutes a marine orderly found Hallam and directed him to go to Captain Scott’s office.  Here Hallam repeated as much as was asked of him concerning the doings of the afternoon.  Incidentally, the fact of Midshipman Darrin’s report to the police was brought out.

“Mr. Pennington, I shall send you at once, in a launch, over to the commandant of cadets to report this matter in person to him,” said Captain Scott gravely.  “Mr. Hallam, you will go with Mr. Pennington.”