Pooler started and scowled. “I hope they won’t be fools enough to put him in!” he said. “His head is swelled enough now. He’ll feel so big that he won’t be worth anything if he is made captain.” “Oh, how can you say that!” exclaimed Sidney Gooch, who had joined the crowd. “Mr. Merriwell is such a splendid fellow!” Sidney was a hypocrite. No one in college hated Frank more than Gooch, but he pretended to admire Merry greatly. In his sneaking way he lost no opportunity to injure Frank, but he never came out openly like an honorable foe. Of the two fellows, Pink Pooler was far the more manly, but that was not saying much for him. Bruce Browning was angry. He grasped Pooler by the collar and shook him till his teeth rattled together. “You envious whelp!” roared the big fellow. “You know Frank Merriwell is not troubled with the swelled head. What you deserve is a punch in the jaw, but I’d be ashamed if I gave it to you, so you get off without it.” Then he gave Pooler a fling that sent the fellow staggering. All were astounded by this display of energy on Browning’s part, for it was a rare thing that anything could arouse him. But Bruce was loyal to Frank Merriwell. He had been Frank’s foe when Merry first came to Yale, but, when he was dropped a class and found himself received in a manly manner by Merriwell, he suddenly changed from a foe to a stanch friend. No one but Frank seemed able to handle the big, lazy fellow, but Merriwell could do anything with Bruce. He even succeeded in inducing him to play first base on the “scrub” ball team, and Browning had not made a single error. Pooler ground his teeth together and gave Browning a fierce look, but he let it go at that, for he knew the big fellow was strong as a giant. “Merriwell will make a good captain,” said Ben Halliday. “He has a knack of getting more out of a lot of fellows than anybody I know. If they put him in Hardy’s place, the nine will not suffer.” “It wouldn’t surprise me a bit if you were right,” purred Sidney Gooch. “I am not going to give up that Hardy can’t play at all till I hear it from his lips,” said Parker. “You may as well give it up,” declared a voice, and Bart Hodge joined the group. “It is straight goods, fellows. I’ve just had a talk with Capt. Hardy.” They turned eagerly to the dark-faced, proud-looking lad, and plied him with questions. All he could tell them was substantially the same as they had learned from Gamp. Capt. Hardy had been examined by competent physicians, and he had been ordered to drop baseball and refrain from all kinds of violent exertion. “It’s a shame!” groaned Jones. “Just at this time Yale can’t afford to lose a single good man.” “Don’t you worry a bit,” said Hodge. “If Merriwell is made captain of the team, Yale will not lose anything. I know Phil Hardy is a dandy, but Frank Merriwell is another.” Somebody laughed scornfully and shortly. Hodge looked round quickly, his face flushing crimson.