"Where the deuce--!" shouted a clear young voice angrily. Then the note changed. "I beg pardon, sir--these confounded lights--I didn't see you at all."
Follansbee returned the midshipman's salute.
"Don't mention it!" he growled. "But what are you doing ashore? I thought you had the deck."
"I did, but I'm trying to find Russell. The Admiral wants him. I took the ship's launch to the _Dirigo_ and they said there he was ashore and hadn't left any word, only that he'd be back late. Have you seen him?"
"Can't you _hear_ him?" inquired Follansbee laconically.
A figure in white duck loomed suddenly into view on the veranda rail waving a bottle and shouting at the top of his lungs:
"I've got command of the _Dirigo_ An' I'm off for a cruise on the Hwang-ho!"
followed by a tremendous chorus accompanied by cracking glass and unearthly yells.
"Do I!" exclaimed the midshipman under his breath. "Is that him?"
At that moment a searchlight illumined the figure in question and the midshipman answering his own question, "Yes, that's him," scrambled on up the steps.
Follansbee wondered how long it would take to deliver the Admiral's order and felt his way gingerly through the crowded street.
When the midshipman burst panting upon them they were standing on their chairs with their arms around one another's necks shouting the swinging chorus of
"The good old summer ti-i-me! Oh, the good old summer ti-i-me! For she's my tootsie-wootsie in The good old summer ti-i-me!"
"Come on up! There's plenty of room on my chair!" cried the boy excitedly, at sight of the midshipman, "we've only just begun." His face was very, very red and his eyes were very, very bright.
"Oh, the good old summer time! Oh, the good old----"
"Here, what's the matter with you? Let me alone! What?"
He dropped his arms and climbed soberly enough down to the veranda floor while his comrades continued their refrain.
"Orders! From the Admiral! Is he here? I didn't know that the _Ohio_ had come in. With you in a jiffy."
"Don't wait," urged the midshipman, "it's important!"
"It isn't--bad news?" he asked apprehensively.
"No, no," answered the other quickly, remembering the news the boy had had the year before. "Just orders."
"Well, I won't spoil their fun," said the boy, echoing the sentiments earlier expressed by Follansbee. "Back in a minute, fellows: I've got to telephone! On with the dance, let joy be unrefined!"