Frank told Bruce all about the night run, and a lazy smile spread over the fat lad's round face as he listened.

"That's one on Pierson!" he exclaimed. "He thinks he is unequalled when it comes to a long-distance run, and I'll wager something that you have fixed him so he will fight to get you into that race. I can see him bidding you farewell! Ha! ha! ha! And then I can see him when you took your turn! Ha! ha! ha!"

Bruce laughed in a hearty manner, and, for some time they talked over the events of the evening.

"What sort of a fellow is Yates?" asked Frank. "I've never met him to have a talk with him."

"Oh, he isn't half bad," answered Bruce, in a somewhat noncommittal manner.

"I presume he will feel injured if I am chosen to run, instead of him?"

"What if he does? That's none of your business."

CHAPTER x.x.xII.

THE RUN TO THE STATION.

The final ball game of the series between Harvard and Yale was to take place at Springfield. The day of the game arrived, and there was an exodus from Yale.

There was a rush for the last train by which the college lads could reach Springfield in time to witness the whole of the game.

On their way to the station, Frank and Harry fell in with Jack Diamond and Danny Griswold.

"We've got to hurry," said Diamond, glancing at his watch. "There is no time to waste if we want to catch the train."

They soon overtook Flemming, Emery and Yates. These fellows were in the company of several other lads, among whom were two of the committee of arrangements for the tournament.

"You fellows seem to be in a great rush," one of the party called to Frank and his friends.

"You had better rush a little, if you want to catch the train," flung back Griswold.

"Ah!" said Andy Emery, with an undisguised sneer; "it's Merriwell and his trainers. They are putting him in condition to beat the field in that race he expects to enter."

"Go him to the station, Yates!" exclaimed one of the lads accompanying Duncan. "Just show him he doesn't know how to run."

"Yah!" flung back Griswold, quick as a flash. "Yates knows better than to try that. Where would he be when Merriwell reached the station?"

"Buying his ticket inside," sneered Emery, in return.

That aroused Jack Diamond, who flushed hotly and turned on Andy.

"I'll go you ten even that Merriwell beats Yates to the station platform," he flashed, producing a roll of bills. "This is business!

Take me if you have the nerve!"

"Oh, I'll take you!" cried Emery; "and, when the business is over, I'll take your money, too."

He promptly produced a ten-dollar bill, and the money was quickly thrust into the hands of a stakeholder, who was chosen by mutual agreement.

"It strikes me you men are pretty swift," said Yates, in a manner that showed his disapproval. "How do you know I will run?"

"'Sh!" warned Flemming. "You'll have to run now, or they'll say you were afraid to go against Merriwell."

It was plain that Yates did not feel at all pleased by the situation, but he said:

"If I must run, I will, and I'll beat the fellow, but I don't care about getting into a sweat just now."

"Never mind that," said Emery, in Yates' ear. "If you beat Merriwell to the station, it is pretty sure that you spoil his show for getting into the mile run. This is your chance to do that little job, so don't let it slip."

Frank had said very little. It was not easy to tell if he felt satisfied or displeased over the situation.

The party turned a corner, and came in view of the station.

"Here is a good starting point," said Emery. "Does it satisfy you, Diamond?"

"Perfectly," bowed Jack.

"Then that's all right. Are you going to run, fellows?"

"I leave that entirely to Mr. Yates," said Frank, quietly.

"Oh, I'll go you--and I'll do you!" exclaimed Yates, as he tore off both coat and vest and flung them at Flemming, who caught them.

That started Rattleton, who excitedly cried:

"I'll tet you ben dollars--I mean I'll bet you ten dollars you don't do it!"

Yates paid no attention to this, but Flemming said:

"I'll have to go you, Rattleton. Put up the tenner."

The money was quickly posted, and then the rivals stood side by side, with their coats and vests removed, ready for the word.

Merriwell seemed quiet and indifferent, as if it were an event of no particular moment; while on Yates' face there was a look that plainly showed he was determined to settle all dispute by winning the dash to the station.

One of the committee had been chosen to give the word, and he stepped out, sharply calling:

"Ready!"

The lads leaned forward over the scratch in the dirt, which had been drawn by somebody's heel.

"Go!"

Away shot the rivals like leaping fawns. They seemed like two foxes, and the crowd of lads who broke away in pursuit resembled a pack of hounds.