es he fancy I have
not been doing my best?"

After a little, he confessed:

"I am beginning to think that won't be an easy trick, Merriwell. You
will not be far behind when we reach your room."

At this, Frank suddenly came up beside Paul.

"Judging by the way you talk, you are somewhat out of wind," he said.

"Not at all," declared Pierson.

"Then I presume you are in condition for a little dash?"

"Oh, of course! But you may beat yourself out if you crowd yourself too
hard."

"Think so?"

"Sure. Better not."

"Oh, I think I'll chance it. Come on, old man, let's tear up some dust."

Then Frank spurted.

Pierson set his teeth and made a desperate effort to keep up, but,
despite his determination not to fall behind, he found that Merriwell
was steadily and surely drawing away.

"Come on," called Frank, in a rather tantalizing manner. "It can't be
that you are going to let me run away from you?"

Paul did not answer.

"What's the matter?" called Frank again. "Are you ill?"

Still no answer.

"Well, you are not sociable at all," laughed the lad in advance,
tauntingly. "I don't seem to like your company, and so I think I will
move along. Good-by."

With that, Pierson could see that the tantalizing fellow actually made
an increase of speed.

"Confound him!" grated Paul. "I believe he was fooling me all along when
he seemed to be having a hard time to keep up. All that panting and
heavy breathing was put on."

It was decidedly humiliating to be "jollied" in such a manner; but Paul
found he could not hold his own with Frank, and he finally gave up the
struggle. Still he continued to run on, thinking that the lad ahead
would use up his wind by such a burst of speed, and believing there was
a possibility of overtaking Merriwell before South Middle was reached.

This did not happen, however, and when Paul burst into Frank's room, he
found Rattleton there, listening to a funny story that Merriwell was
telling.

And Merriwell? He had his feet resting comfortably on the top of a
table, while he lay back in an easy-chair, looking remarkably cool, as
if he had not lately made a run of several miles.

More than that, he had changed his clothes, as the suit he had on was
not the same he had worn during the run!

Paul staggered in, and dropped limply on the couch, staring at Frank, as
if he saw a ghost.

"Look--here--Merriwell," he panted, "what--are--you--made--of?
Are--you--run--by--steam?"

"Oh, no