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290 Panama hat, stood for a moment in the doorway.

"Good-by!" he said. "Don't let anything happen to yourselves. I expect to be home before light-up time."

They gathered at the door and watched him cast off the Cymba's moorings, and they waved their hands.

"Good-by! Good-by!"

When he had rowed a little way from the pier, they saw him take off the Panama hat and put it in the stern, with an oar-lock inside it. They all shouted with glee, and he looked back at them. They caught the sudden flash of his smile when the wind raced through his hair, making it anything but flat.

"I do hope he'll make it," said Elspeth, as they dried the dishes. "He's worked so hard! All this year, you know, besides writing, he's been studying—tactical things, and navigation, and ordnance, and dear knows what else. He's done practically all that's required in the officers' schools, and he's specialized and worked out some ideas of his own. If they find that he's physically fit, I don't see why he should n't get his commission at once."

"I think he deserves it," said Joan.