"Nothing. Just looked at him." "If he keeps this up," grunted Bruce Browning, who was stretched on the couch, puffing away at a cigarette, "his career at Yale will be short." "That's right!" cried Jack Diamond, showing his teeth. "Some one will kill him. If he struck me, I'd shoot him in a minute--in a minute!" Diamond meant it. There was hot blood in his veins. Frank's example had taught him to control his fiery temper to a certain extent, but there were times when it would blaze forth and get the best of him for all of anything he could do. "It's a pity some fellow can't get at him and lick the stuffing out of him," said Bandy Robinson. "That's what he needs." "Well, who is there that can do it?" cried Griswold. "He's a perfect giant, over six feet tall, and must weigh nearly two hundred pounds, though there's not an ounce of fat on him. He's all bone and muscle. He strikes a regular prize-fighter blow, and he can't be hurt. I tell you, he is a good man to let alone." "That's right," agreed Halliday. "I saw him do up those coppers the other night, four of them, and they all had their clubs out." "Did they hit him?" asked Merriwell. "Hit him! Well, I should guess yes. They cracked him eight or ten times over the head and shoulders." "Somebody said it didn't have any effect on him," observed "Uncle" Blossom, who was chewing gum as if his life depended on it. "Not a bit more than it would if they had hammered a block of wood," declared Halliday. "It made me sick the first time they cracked him on the head, and it sounded exactly as if they struck a piece of hard wood. I expected it would lay him out stiff." "But he kept on his feet?" "He never staggered! Cut his scalp open in three places, and he bled frightfully, but that only seemed to make him worse." "Very interesting," commented Frank, his eyes sparkling. "It would be an honor to subdue such a fellow as that." "Honor?" cried Halliday and Griswold. "It would be a miracle!" "If he lives, he'll become a prize fighter," said Blossom. "He has their brutal instincts, and still he seems to have some brains." "That's what makes him such a bad man--his brains," cried Halliday. "He fights with his head, as well as with his hands." "I must say, you interest me greatly in this freshman," said Merriwell. "What did you call his name--Mason?" "Yes, Hock Mason. You've seen him. He's that big, red-headed bruiser, who----" "Yes, I've seen him," nodded Frank. "I know him by sight." "It's a wonder he hasn't jumped on you yet. You must have attracted his notice, for you are the most popular man in college." "Oh, he'll get at Merry in time," grinned Griswold. "All he is waiting for is the opportunity." Frank laughed. "I don't know as I care about having any trouble with this freshman bully," he confessed. "I should say not!" cried the others. "But I shall not run to get out of his way." "You'd better." "Perhaps some of you are aware that I can put up a good, stiff fight myself."