As he joined the line-up his eyes rested on Dave Darrin.
"I wonder if Jetson means me any harm ?" flashed through Dave's mind.

In an instant, however, he dismissed the suspicion.
"Jetson is a midshipman, a gentleman and a man of honor," thought Darrin generously.
The whistle sounded, the ball was snapped back and passed, Darrin received it and dashed forward to carry it past the opponents.
In a twinkling there was a staggering crash.

Dave was down with the ball, with men of two teams piled above him.
At the sound of the referee's whistle the mass disentangled itself.

Dave and Jetson were at the bottom of the heap.

Jetson was the last man up, but Dave still lay there.
"Surgeon here ?" called the coach's steady voice, devoid of excitement.
But there was anxiety enough when it was seen that Midshipman Darrin still lay face downward.
"Has Darrin been hurt--our Darrin--the great Darrin ?" flew from tongue to tongue.
"Did Jetson do it ?" was another question that was instantly asked..