"Not a bit! Why shouldn't I have a fling at it? Cowan here has promised
to help; in fact, it was he that suggested it. With his help and yours,
and with the kind assistance of one or two fellows I know here, I dare
say I can pull out on top. Anyhow, there's no harm in trying."

"I think you'll win," said Cowan. "This chump Livingston that Foster is
booming is a regular milksop; does nothing but grind, so they say; came
out of St. Mathias with all kinds of silly prizes and such. What the
fellows always want is a good, popular chap that goes in for athletics
and that will make a name for himself."

"Foster said Livingston was something of a dab at baseball," said Neil.

"Baseball!" cried Cowan. "What's baseball? Why not puss-in-the-corner? A
chap with a football reputation like Gale here can walk all round your
baseball man. We'll carry it with a rush! You'll see! Freshmen are like
a lot of sheep--show 'em the way and they'll fall over themselves to
get there."

"Well, we're freshmen ourselves, you know," said Neil sweetly. Cowan
looked nonplussed for a moment. Then--

"Oh, but you fellows are different; you've got sense. I was speaking of
the general run of freshmen," he explained.

"Thanks," murmured Neil. Paul scented danger.

"I'll put the campaign in your hands and Cowan's, Neil," he said. "You
know several fellows here--there's Wallace and Knowles and Jones.
They're not freshmen, but they can give you introductions. Knowles is a