Not a morning paper appeared in either city that did not contain Frank Merriwell's picture. It made little difference if some of the pictures were poor, Frank's name was beneath each and every one of them. The papers gave him glaring headlines. He was called "The Yale Trojan," "The Sensation of the Season," "The Boy of Iron," and many other complimentary things. All Yale was reading the papers, and Frank was more than ever the topic of conversation, for his fellow-students began to realize that he had played an even more important part in the game than was at first thought possible by those who had not witnessed it. If Frank had smoked or drank he would not have found it necessary to buy a cigar or a drink for weeks to come. Scores of fellows would have considered it a great honor to buy smokes and drinks for him. But Merriwell neither smoked nor drank. He had never indulged in tobacco or liquor. Who knows how much that was responsible for his wonderful strength, nerve and wind? At the fence a group gathered early and read and discussed the newspaper reports. Rob Marline seemed to be the only man who did not have a paper. "What's the matter with you, old man?" asked Tom Thornton. "You are looking as blue as if we had lost yesterday." "I'm feeling grouchy," confessed Marline. "Ankle?" "Has something to do with it." "Too bad! It was tough to be knocked out just before the game, but you can feel satisfied that your place was filled by a good man." Marline seemed to turn yellow. "That is it, sah--that's just it!" he exclaimed, "Look at all the stuff in the papers about him! And I might have had the opportunities he had if I had played." "Perhaps not." "Why not?" "The change might have made considerable difference in the play. You know as well as I, no two men will play just the same under the same circumstances. They may attempt similar plays, but they do not carry them out in precisely the same manner." "I don't like the way you use that word 'attempt,' sah!" said Marline, flaming up a bit. "It seems like an insinuation that I might have failed in the attempt, while Merriwell succeeded." "You are altogether too suspicious and sensitive, Marline. I did not hint anything of the sort, although even you cannot be sure you would have succeeded as well as Merriwell. Indeed, what he did in that game was phenomenal." "Rot, sah!" "I believe you are jealous of him, Marline. If you are, take my advice, and conceal it, or the boys will jolly you to death." Rob Marline drew himself up with as much haughtiness as possible, considering his lame ankle. "Sah," he said, hissing the words through his white teeth, "the boys had better be careful. I am in no condition to be jollied on that point, sah." Had any other fellow at Yale taken such a stand, it would have produced shouts of laughter. As it was, not a fellow of the group grinned, and Burn Putnam observed: