There was a rap on the door, which immediately popped open, and in bobbed a head, thatched with carroty hair, upon which was perched a crumpled cap. A freckled, jolly face was wrinkled into a cheerful grin, and a voice that was made up of bubbles and hollows cried:

"Hello, chaps! I just looked in to see if you were doing well, as the cook said to the lobster, when she lifted the sauce-pan lid."

"Come in, Stubbs," invited Frank, promptly—"come in and make yourself as big a nuisance as possible."

"No need to tell me to do that," piped the lad at the door, as he bounced into the room. "I always make myself a nuisance wherever I am. It is my policy."

He was a little short-legged fellow, with a roly-poly body and twinkling eyes. Good nature bubbled out all over him. At a glance you could see he was the sort of chap who would try to be merry under almost any circumstances.

This was Bink Stubbs, a lad with whom Frank and Harry had recently become acquainted. Frank had picked him up because of his merry ways and quaint sayings of the wise and humorous order.

"Have you fellers got any smokers?" asked Bink, as he deposited himself on a chair.

"No, we haven't got any smokers," answered Harry. "And the last time you were here, Bruce Browning said you swiped a whole package of cigarettes from him."

Stubbs tried to look horrified, and then cried:

"Well, I'll be hanged! as the 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 himself at full length on a tiger-skin rug, he puffed out a great whiff of smoke, and murmured:

"Now I have something to blow about, as the cyclone said when it lifted a house and barn into the next State."

"Speaking about clothes," said Browning, languidly, "did you see Goldstein, the tailor, to-day, Rattleton?"

"Yes, I saw him," nodded Harry.

"And did you tell him I said I would settle that little bill?"

"Sure."

"That's kind of you. Did he seem convinced?"

"He said he was."

"Was what?"

"Convinced that you lied."

This provoked a laugh. When the laughing had ceased, Griswold sagely observed:

"It is remarkable that man is the only animal that can lie standing up."

"Say, you chaps," called Frank, "drop this sort of chatter, and answer my question. How many of you are in for spending the summer vacation in a bicycle trip across the continent?"

"You'll have to excuse me," said Griswold, as he followed Stubbs' example and lighted a cigarette. "I'm going down to Bar Harbor, and play tennis on my vacation."

"I can't endure tennis," drawled Browning.

"I should say not. Too much exertion for you."

"It is not that. I don't like to be around where others are playing it."

"Don't? Why not?"

"Because it is so noisy."

"Noisy? Christmas! How do you make that out?"

"Why, you can't play it without a racket," said Browning.

Griswold staggered and clutched at his heart.

"What papers have you been reading?" he gasped.

Diamond spoke up for the first time:

"I'll tell you what I'll do, Merriwell—I'll go on this bicycle trip across the continent, if I can secure my mother's consent?"

"Will you?" cried Frank, eagerly. "Then see her as soon as possible. I couldn't ask for a better fellow than you. Harry thinks he can go, and that makes three of us. We'll do the trick, even if we can't get another fellow. Is it agreed?"

"It is agreed if I can get my mother to agree to it," assured Jack.

"Well, let's talk about another matter," said Bruce. "The tournament at Madison Square Garden is right upon us. Are you on for anything, Merriwell?"

"Yes," answered Frank, "I shall take part in several contests."

"How about the mile run?" questioned Diamond.

"I believe Yates is in for that," said Merriwell.

"That's something I want to speak to you about," drawled Bruce.

Frank was rather surprised, as Browning had taken very little interest in athletics of late. During his early days at Yale, Bruce 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 mottled face wrinkled into a quaint grimace.

"What is it that you want to say about the mile race, Browning?" asked Frank, his curiosity aroused.

"I want to say that I do not believe Yates is the proper man to represent Old Eli."

"He is fast, and he has a record."

"It's no use to talk about his record."

"Why not?"

"Orton, of U.P., lays over him, and this will be a case of Yale against the field. Better men than Orton may show up."

"Yates may break his own record."

"That word 'may' is all right, but it can be applied both ways. He may not."

"There's Van Tassle," said Diamond. "He claims to be a record-breaker."

"A record-breaker!" sniffed Griswold. "Why, that fellow couldn't break an egg!"

"That's right," nodded Rattleton. "He breaks records with his mouth. Don't talk about him."

"Well, there are others," laughed Frank.

"Name a few of them," invited Browning, with more animation than he had displayed for some time.

"There's Hickson."

"He's stiff in the joints, as you know."

"Walter Gordan."

"He's no stayer. That fellow can run, but he has not the sand to make himself a winner."

"He thinks himself the biggest thing on ice," said Rattleton.

"By the way," broke in Griswold, "what is the biggest thing on ice?"

"The profit," promptly answered Stubbs, and then he made a scramble to get out of Griswold's way.

"It's no use, I can't shine when that chap is around!" exclaimed Danny, with attempted seriousness. "He has an answer for all my conundrums."

"That makes me think of one for you," piped Bink, who was now perched on the back of a high chair, like a monkey. "Why is a duel a quick affair?"

"Answer it yourself. I'll never tell."

"Well, a duel is a quick affair because it takes only two seconds to arrange it."

"There won't be a duel in this case," grunted Browning; "but there'll be a cold-blooded murder if you kids keep on. I'll assassinate you both!"

Frank laughed.

"Oh, let them go it, Bruce," he said. "It seems to amuse them, and it doesn't harm anybody else."

"I think Browning is right about Yates," declared Diamond. "He is not the proper man to represent Yale in that race."

"Whom would you suggest?" asked Frank.

"Frank Merriwell, by all means."

"Now that is folly!" said Merriwell, seriously.

"I fail to see why it is folly," cried Browning. "You are the man I have had in my mind all along."

"But I have no record."

"To the winds with your records! What we want is a man who can run. He'll make a record."

"Why do you think I can run?"

"I have seen you run, and I have heard the fellows tell about your speed. That is enough in your case."

Frank shook his head.

"It is not enough," he contradicted. "I know I have a record as a base runner in a ball game, but the best base runners are not always able to make good showings in races. Besides that, base running is dash work, and this is a case of running a mile. There is a vast difference."

"That's all right," spluttered Harry, quickly. "You can mun a rile—I mean run a mile with the best of 'em. I've seen you on a long run."

"When was that?"

"When we had that turkey chase. You led us all, and it didn't bother you a bit. Then, after you made the run out into the country and back, Pierson got after you before you could get to our rooms. You ran away from him, and held on to the turkey. That settled in Pierson's mind that you could hustle along all right, and it had something to do with his giving you a place for a trial on the ball team."

"That is true," Frank was forced to confess.

"Have you ever been in any races?" asked Diamond.

"Oh, I took part in some races when I was at Fardale Academy."

"What did you do in them?"

"I believe I won, but you must remember that I had no such rivals to go against as will be found at the tournament."

"And you were in no such condition as you are now. Is that right?"

Frank was forced to confess that it was. Then Browning tried to pin Frank down and make him answer the question whether he did not have confidence enough in himself to believe he could race Duncan Yates for a mile.

"Of course I could race him," smiled Frank, "but the matter of winning is another question."

"Well, I believe you are the man to run for Yale in that race," said Browning; "and I am going to use my influence to see that you, and not Yates, are entered. That is settled, and it is no use for you to make any objections."