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 does he fancy I have not been doing my best?" After a little, he confessed: "I am beginning to think that won't be an easy trick, Merriwell. You will not be far behind when we reach your room." At this, Frank suddenly came up beside Paul. "Judging by the way you talk, you are somewhat out of wind," he said. "Not at all," declared Pierson. "Then I presume you are in condition for a little dash?" "Oh, of course! But you may beat yourself out if you crowd yourself too hard." "Think so?" "Sure. Better not." "Oh, I think I'll chance it. Come on, old man, let's tear up some dust." Then Frank spurted. Pierson set his teeth and made a desperate effort to keep up, but, despite his determination not to fall behind, he found that Merriwell was steadily and surely drawing away. "Come on," called Frank, in a rather tantalizing manner. "It can't be that you are going to let me run away from you?" Paul did not answer. "What's the matter?" called Frank again. "Are you ill?" Still no answer.