"It would be a dirty game to play on Merriwell," he muttered, "but now that I know it, I may get mad and do it in a huff, especially if I see Merriwell is getting the best of me."
The more Browning thought the matter over the greater became his regret that he had learned the trick of breaking an opponent's wrist. For all that he had a strong feeling against Merriwell, he could see that the leader of the freshmen was square and manly, and he did not believe Frank would take an unfair advantage of a foe.
Bruce became quite unlike his old jovial self. He was strangely downcast and moody, and he saw that he was fast losing prestige with those who had once regarded him as their leader.
Hartwick, Browning's roommate, was more bitter against Merriwell.
"The confounded upstart!" he would growl. "Think of his coming here and carrying things on with such a high hand! When we were freshmen the sophomores had everything their own way. They Lambda Chied us till they became sick of it, and all our attempts to get even proved failures. Now the freshmen who are following the lead of this fellow Merriwell seem to think that they are cocks of the walk. I tell you what it is, Bruce, you must do that fellow, and you must do him so he will stay done."
"Oh, I don't believe he is such a bad fellow at heart, It wouldn't be right to injure him permanently."
"Wouldn't it? Give me the chance and see if I don't fix him."
Hartwick began to regard his roommate with disdain.
"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."