y. Bruce had heard Pierson express a
belief that Merriwell was one of the persons who, by sheer determination
and sand, as well as ability, was bound to win in almost everything he
attempted.

Bruce went to Pierson immediately after leaving Merriwell's room.
Pierson was one of the sort who seldom said much, and Browning left him
without knowing whether he had made an impression or not.

Late that afternoon, however, Pierson accidentally met Frank, who was
crossing the campus.

"I say, Merriwell," said Paul, in his abrupt manner, "can you run?"

"Some," answered Frank, sententiously.

"Hum!" grunted Pierson.

Then he looked Frank all over, as if he had never seen him before and
was taking his physical measure.

"You keep yourself in the very best condition all the time, I see," he
finally observed.

"Well I seldom do anything to abuse myself."

"Are you in training for a race?"

"Not exactly."

"How long would it take for you to put yourself in condition?"

"Possibly a week."

"What are you good for--a short dash, or a long run?"

"I think I can do either fairly well."

"Fairly well does not go at Yale, as you know, Merriwell. You must do
things exceptionally well. You are altogether too modest. If something
had not brought you out, nobody could have known you could do anything
at all. You have been pushed in various ways by others, but you fail to
push yourself."

"Oh, I do not go about blowing my own horn," said Frank, smiling.

"You will find you'll have to blow your own horn when you go into
business, or my brother is a liar. He keeps hammering at me that the man
who does not blow his horn is the fellow who gets left. To a large
extent, it is that way here at Yale. The fellow who keeps still and sits
back gets left. That's my sermon. I'm not going to say any more now. Get
into training for a long run. I'll come round at nine this evening and
go you a sprint of a mile or two, just to see how you show up."

That was all. Pierson turned and sauntered away, without another word.

Frank whistled softly, and smiled.

"This is Browning's work," he muttered. "Pierson takes things for
granted. How does he know I will take any part in a race? He does not
ask if I will, but he tells me to go to work and get into shape. He is
coming round to-night to see how I show up. All right."

At ten minutes of nine that evening, Paul Pierson rapped on the door of
Merriwell's room, and was invited to walk in. He w