ast summer and
put on weight. This is taking it out of me finely; I can feel whole
pounds melting off. It doesn't seem to bother you any," he added.

"No, I haven't much flesh about me," panted Neil; "but I'm glad this is
the last time around, just the same!"

After their baths in the little green-roofed locker-house the two walked
back to the yard together, Paul, as Neil saw, being in close
companionship with a big youth whose name, according to Foster, was
Tom Cowan.

"He played right-guard last year," said Foster. "He's a soph; this is
his third year."

"Third year!" exclaimed Neil. "But how--"

"Oh, Cowan was too busy to pass his exams last year," said Foster with a
grin. "So they let him stay a soph. He doesn't care; a little thing
like that never bothers Cowan." His tone was rather contemptuous.

"Is he liked?" Neil asked.

"Oh, yes; he's very popular among a small and select circle of
friends--a very small circle." Then he dismissed Cowan with an airy wave
of one hand. "By the way," he continued, "have you any candidate for the
presidency of your class?"

"No," Neil replied. "I haven't heard anything about it yet."

"Good; then you can vote for 'Fan' Livingston. He's a _protege_ of mine,
you see; used to know him at St. Mathias; you'll like him. He's an
awfully good, manly, straightforward chap, just the fellow for the
place. The election comes off next Thursday evening. How about
your friend?"

"Gale? I don't think he has any one in view. I guess you can count on
his vote, too."

"Thanks; just mention it to him, will you? I'm booming Livingston, and I
want to see him win. Can't you come round some evening the first of the
week? I'd like you to meet him. And meanwhile just talk him up a bit,
will you?"

Neil promised and made an appointment to meet the candidate the
following Saturday night at Foster's room in McLean Hall. The two parted
at the gate, Foster going up to his room and Neil traversing the campus
and the common to his own quarters. As he opened the study door he was
surprised to hear voices within. Paul and his new acquaintance, Tom
Cowan, were sitting side by side on the window-seat.

"Hello," greeted the former. "How'd it go? Like old times, wasn't it?
Neil, I want you to meet Mr. Cowan. Cowan has quarters up-stairs here.
He's an old player, and we've been telling each other how good we are."

Cowan looked for an instant as though he didn't quite appreciate the
latter remark, but