he picture said when it found the cord was
tied to it."

"You know neither of us smoke," said Merriwell.

"I know you pretend you do not, but I don't know that you are not
bluffing when you say so."

"What's that? Do you mean to insinuate that I am lying? Why, I'll step
on you, Stubbsie!"

"In that case my days are numbered, as the calendar said to the
blotter."

There was a sound of voices outside the door, and then, with very
little ceremony, three lads came filing into the room.

There were Browning, Diamond and Griswold.

"Get up, you little villain!" said Bruce, as he collared Stubbs and
yanked him off the easy-chair. "Don't you know enough to let other folks
have a chance to sit down, you lazy little rascal?"

And then, with a sigh of relief, Bruce deposited his corpulent form on
the chair.

Stubbs bristled up, as if he meant to fight, then seemed to change his
mind, and shook his head and remarked:

"Such things are bound to a cur, as the dog said when he looked at the
tin can that was tied to his tail."

The boys were welcomed by Frank and Harry, and Merriwell said:

"I'm glad you fellows dropped in. I want to find out how many of you are
going to take that bicycle trip across the continent during the summer
vacation."

"Jeewhiskers!" grinned Danny Griswold. "Think of Bruce Browning, the
champion lazy man at Yale, riding a bicycle across the continent. The
exertion of riding across the campus would utterly prostrate him."

"Um!" grunted Bruce. "It's singular that small things annoy one worst."

"Oh, yes," returned Danny, promptly; "even a little mosquito bores me
frightfully."

"Say, Griswold," piped Stubbs, "that's a bad habit to get into."

"What's a bad habit to get into?" demanded Danny, bristling up
resentfully.

"That suit of clothes you have on," said Stubbs, whimsically. "It's a
miserable fit."

"Well, you'll have a bad fit if I get after you!" exclaimed Griswold,
hotly. "You're a base fraud and an impostor! You are trying to steal my
thunder by reading the same comic papers that I do. If you keep this up
you'll use up all of my original jokes."

"Oh, well," said Stubbs, "cough up a cigarette and I'll let you forgive
me. I'm dying for a whiff."

Griswold hesitated, and then flung a package of cigarettes at Bink, who
skillfully caught them, extracted one, closed the package, and tossed it
back. A moment later the little chap had lighted the cigarette, and, as
he deposited hims