shing
to see just how Frank stood the strain. He was forced to acknowledge
that, for a time at least, Merriwell was standing it very well.

"Oh, he is endeavoring to show me how easy he can do it!" mentally
exclaimed Paul. "Wait--wait a bit! I think I will give him a hot push
for a bit."

Faster and faster ran Pierson, and soon he was rather gratified to hear
Frank beginning to breathe heavily. Yes, although Paul had hoped that
Merriwell would show up well, he did feel a momentary sense of
satisfaction when it seemed that he was making the pace a hot one for
his companion.

Then Frank began to lag. He did not fall far behind Paul, and still he
seemed unable to keep his place at Pierson's side.

"I won't do a thing to him coming back!" decided Paul. "Browning was
dead wrong. The fellow is capable of short dashes, but he is not the man
for a long run. I am rather sorry."

At last, he decided that they had gone far enough into the country, and
so he turned about, without stopping, calling to Frank:

"Now for the hustle into town, and let's see what you are made of, my
boy. I am going to run away from you as if you were standing still."

"I wouldn't do that!" flung back Merriwell, as he wheeled about.

Somehow it seemed to Paul that there was a touch of sarcasm in the way
Frank uttered the words. That aroused the committeeman still more, and
he retorted:

"No, you wouldn't do it, because you couldn't; but I am going to."

"All right," laughed Frank. "I don't suppose there is any danger that
somebody will steal me for my beauty if you leave me alone out here in
the country. Go ahead and run away from me."

"Good-by."

"Good-by."

Then Pierson did run. He skimmed over the ground in a wonderful manner,
but the sound of running feet clung close behind him, and, when he
glanced over his shoulder, Merriwell was still there.

"Hanged if he doesn't hold on well!" mentally exclaimed Paul.

Then, as he glanced around, it began to seem that Merriwell was running
with still greater ease than he had at any previous time. Somehow it
appeared as if he was keeping close behind Pierson without any
particular effort.

"You're doing well," Paul finally flung over his shoulder. "Can you keep
it up?"

"I think so," was the half-laughing answer. "I am holding myself in so
that I can make an attempt to follow you a short distance when you get
ready to run away from me."

"Great smoke!" thought Paul. "Is he guying me? or do