David Darrins Second Year at Annapolis | Page 3

"Him plenty
'shipmen come here and smoke."
"You lie!" hissed Dave, grasping the heathen by the collar and shaking
him until the latter's teeth rattled.
Then Dave gave him a brief rest, though he still retained his hold on the
Chinaman's collar. But the yellow man began struggling again, and
Dave repeated the shaking.
Chow Hop had kept his hands up inside his wide sleeves. Now Farley
leaped forward as he shouted:
"Look out, Darry! He has a knife!"
Farley attempted to seize the Chinaman's wrist, for the purpose of
disarming the yellow man, but Dave swiftly threw the Chinaman
around out of Farley's reach. Then, with a lightning-like move, Dave
knocked the knife from Chow Hop's hand.
"Pick that up and keep it for a curio, Farley," directed Dave coolly.
In another twinkling Darrin had run the Chinaman up against the wall.
Smack! biff! thump!
With increasing force Dave's hard fist struck the heathen in the face.

"Now stand there and behave yourself," admonished Midshipman Dave,
dropping his hold on the yellow man's collar, "or we'll stop playing
with you and hurt you some."
The scowl on Chow Hop's face was ominous, but he stood still, glaring
at Dave.
"Chow, what can we do to bring this man out of his sleep!" asked Dave
coolly, and almost in a friendly tone.
"Me no sabby," sulked the Chinaman.
"Yes, you do," retorted Dave warningly. "Now, what can we do to get
our friend out of this!"
"You allee same cally (carry) him out," retorted Chow, with a suspicion
of a sulky grin.
"None of that, now, you yellow-face!" glared Dave. "How shall we get
our comrade out of this opium sleep!"
"Me no sabby no way," insisted Chow.
"Oh, yes, you do!" snapped Dave. "But you won't tell. All right; we'll
find the way, and we'll punish you into the bargain. Dan, get a piece of
paper from the other room."
Dalzell was quickly back with the desired item. On the paper Dave
wrote a name and a telephone number.
"It's near the end of the doctor's office hours," murmured Dave. "Go to
a telephone and ask the doctor to meet you at the corner above. Tell
him it's vastly important, and ask him to meet you on the jump."
"Shall I tell him what's up!" asked Dan cautiously.
"Yes; you'd better. Then he'll be sure to bring the necessary remedies
with him."

Dan Dalzell was off like a shot.
Chow tried to edge around toward the door.
"Here, you get back there," cried Dave, seizing the Chinaman and
slamming him back against the wall. "Don't you move again, until we
tell you that you may--or it will be the worse for you."
Ten minutes passed ere Dan returned with Dr. Lawrence.
"You see the job that's cut out for you," said Darrin, pointing to the
unconscious figure in the bunk. "Can you do it, Doctor?"
The medical man made a hasty examination of the unconscious
midshipman before he answered briefly:
"Yes."
"Will it be a long job, Doctor?"
"Fifteen minutes, probably."
"Oh, good, if you can do it in that time!"
"Me go now?" asked Chow, with sullen curiosity, as the medical man
opened his medicine-case.
"Yes; if you don't try to leave the joint," agreed Dave. "And I'm going
outside with you."
Chow looked very much as though he did not care for company, but
Midshipman Darrin kept at his side.
"Now, see here, Chow," warned Dave, "this is the last day you sell
opium for white men to smoke!"
"You heap too flesh (fresh)" growled the Chinaman.
"It's the last day you'll sell opium to white men," insisted Dave, "for, as

soon as I'm through here I'm going to the police station to inform
against you. They'll go through here like a twelve-inch shot."
"You alle same tell cop?" grinned Chow, green hatred showing through
his skin. "Then I tell evelybody about you fliend in there."
"Do just as you please about that," retorted Dave with pretended
carelessness. "For one thing, you don't know his name."
"Oh, yes, I do," swaggered Chow impudently. "Know heap 'bout him.
His name alle same Pen'ton."
Seizing a marking brush and a piece of paper, Chow Hop quickly wrote
out Pennington's name, correctly spelled. His ability to write English
with a good hand was one of Chow's great vanities, anyway.
"You go back to your ironing board, yellow-face," warned Darrin, and
something in the young third classman's face showed Chow that it
would be wise to obey.
Then Hallam drew Darrin to one side, to whisper earnestly in his ear:
"Look out, old man, or you will get Pen into an awful scrape!"
"I shan't do it," maintained Darrin. "If it happens it will have been Pen's
own work."
"You'd better let the chink