Dave Darrin's Third Year at Annapolis eBook

H. Irving Hancock
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 138 pages of information about Dave Darrin's Third Year at Annapolis.

“Then they’ve run all to bones and haven’t any brains,” grinned Dan.  “After all, we don’t mind mere bulk, for intelligence wins most of the games on the gridiron.”

“As to their intelligence, I can’t say,” admitted Joyce.  “At any rate, from the glimpse that I got of the Hans, I should say that they average two years older than our men.”

“Let’s throw up the sponge, then,” proposed Dalzell demurely.  “If we can’t beat the visitors what’s the use of playing them?  It isn’t even necessary to get into togs.  We can send a note to the referee, and he can award the game to Hanniston.”

“Fine!” broke in Hepson scornfully.

“However, I guess we aren’t going to have any cinch to-day,” joined in Midshipman Waite, from another table.  “I have word from outside, by the way.”

“What word?”

“Well, the Hanniston fellows have brought over some money with which to back up the howls they’re making for their team.  They’re offering odds of ten to six that Hanniston wins.”

“They stand to lose a lot of money,” grinned Hepson.

“But here’s the funny part of it,” continued Waite.  “You know, when the townspeople in Annapolis think they have a really good thing on us, they cover the money of visitors in any wagers on the games.”

“Then here’s hoping that the Annapolis townspeople win a lot to-day,” laughed Midshipman Hepson.

“Yes, but,” returned Waite, “what I hear from town is that the Annapolis townspeople have been driven to cover; that they aren’t taking up the offers of the visiting Hanniston boys.”

“Too bad!” sighed Dave Darrin.  “And Annapolis needs the money so badly, too.”

“Are we going to win?” asked Waite bluntly.

“Too early to tell you,” replied Hepson coolly.  “Ask me at supper to-night.  But the townies won’t wager any money on us this year, eh?”

“The Annapolis people have put up some, but not much,” replied Waite.

“We’re going to win, just the same,” announced Dan Dalzell.

“Sure?” questioned several voices.

“Oh, yes!  It’s all settled now,” laughed Midshipman Waite.  “I’ve been waiting for Danny boy to tell us.  Now, we know—­we’ve heard from the hot-air meter.”

There was a laugh in which Dan didn’t join readily, though his face reddened considerably.  Midshipman Dalzell was one of those who always believed that the Navy must win, just because it was the Navy.  Some of the other midshipmen didn’t go quite as far as that in their confidence.

“Better not call Danny boy names,” advised Dave Darrin gravely.  “He might be sulking at just the time when we need him this afternoon.”

“That would be unmilitary,” retorted Mr. Waite.

“Oh, no,” said Dave lightly.  “Even as good a soldier as Achilles sulked in his tent, you know.”

“Achilles?  What class was he in, then?” demanded Waite.  “I don’t remember the name.”

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Dave Darrin's Third Year at Annapolis from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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