“For goodness’ sake, don’t get soft,” he implored.  “The fellows will say you are chicken-hearted, and that will settle your case.  You’ll never get back to your old position if you once lose it.”

“I’d rather be thought chicken-hearted than hold my position by dirty play.”

Hartwick made no retort, but it was plain to see that he entertained a different view of a case like the one in question.

Browning worked like a beaver to get himself in shape for the coming struggle, but he promised himself over and over that he would never do such a thing again.  It was pride and hope that sustained him through his severe course of training.

“No fresh mug can do youse now,” Buster Kelley finally declared.  “I’ll put me dough on you, an’ I’ll win, too.”

Bruce was really in very good form, and he felt that he stood more than an even chance with Merriwell.

He had seen the freshman fight, however, and he realized that he would not have a walkover.

The freshmen began to think that Browning feared to meet Merriwell, and they openly told him as much.  They taunted him to such an extent that it was with the utmost difficulty he held himself in check till the expiration of the time he had set for getting himself in condition.

“What if I should see the freshman getting the best of me and should break his wrist?” he thought.  “I might make it appear to be an accident, but I would know better myself.  I’d get the best of Merriwell, and the fellows would still hail me as King Browning, but I would be ashamed of myself all the while.”

It was that thought which troubled him so much and made him appear so grouchy.

“Browning is in a blue funk whenever he thinks of stacking up against the freshman,” one sophomore confidentially told another.  “I believe he has lost his nerve.”

“It looks that way,” admitted the other.

Thus it came about that Bruce’s appearance led his former admirers to misjudge him, and he saw a growing coolness toward him.

“I’ll meet Merriwell on the level,” he finally decided, “and I will whip him on the level or I’ll not whip him at all.”

Then he instructed Hartwick to carry a challenge to Frank.

“I will fight him with hard gloves,” said Bruce.

He had decided that with a glove on his hand he could not easily perform the trick of breaking his enemy’s wrist in case he was seized by an impulse to do so.

“Gloves?” cried Hartwick.  “Why, man, why don’t you challenge him to meet you with bare fists?”

“Because I have decided that gloves are all right.”

“The fellows will say you are afraid.”

“Let them say so if they like,” returned Bruce, but he winced a bit, as if a tender spot had been touched.

Hartwick did his test to induce his friend to challenge Merriwell to a fight with bare fists, but Bruce had made up his mind and he was obstinate.