ce had been a
pusher in athletic matters, being at that time an athlete himself, as he
kept himself in form and held back the threatening development of flesh
by the severest sort of training.

But Bruce could not continue to resist the temptations of his appetite,
and it became more and more difficult for him to keep in trim. As long
as he was a freshman he had done so, but when he became a sophomore he
gradually abandoned the struggle.

Still he had remained active as a leader, and had been known at one time
as "the King of the Sophomores." His final effort at training had been
when he put himself in condition to meet Merriwell in a four-round
hard-glove contest.

The bout had been pronounced a draw, but Browning afterward acknowledged
that he must have been knocked out had it continued to a finish.

From that time Browning's interest in athletic matters waned.

He lost ambition in that line, and he soon became so overburdened with
flesh that nothing save a question of life or death could have induced
him to go into training.

It was not so very long before Bruce was known as the champion lazy man
at Yale. All that he seemed to care about was to eat, drink, smoke and
loaf. He seldom was known to "grind," and his attempts at "skinning"
were pitiable failures.

Then he was dropped a class, and, as he still stuck to Yale, he found
himself arrayed with Merriwell and the fellows whom he at one time had
regarded as enemies.

In that class Merriwell was regarded as a leader in athletic matters,
and Bruce seldom mentioned anything of the kind. Now, however, to
Merriwell's surprise, he displayed sudden interest in the great
intercollegiate tournament to be held in Madison Square Garden, New
York, directly at the close of the spring terms.

In the various contests Yale was to be represented by her best men.
There had been some uncertainty concerning the one who would wear Yale's
colors in the mile run, but the belief grew that Duncan Yates, a junior,
would be the one finally settled on by the committee in charge of the
matter.

"Why don't you go into that race, Browning, old sylph?" grinned Danny
Griswold. "You would astonish the public."

"Some time I'll sit on you, runtie," growled Bruce.

Stubbs remarked:

"That will settle it, as the sugar observed when the egg dropped into
the coffee."

Rattleton threw a slipper at Bink, who grunted as it struck him in the
ribs, but serenely continued to smoke, his mottl