He was fully six feet two, and apparently weighed about two hundred pounds.

His face was rather handsome in a coarse, heavy-featured style, and his hands, as Neil observed, were not quite clean.

Later, Neil discovered that they never were.
After listening politely for some moments to Cowan's tales of former football triumphs and defeats, in all of which the narrator played, according to his words, a prominent part, Neil broke into the stream of his eloquence and told Paul of his meeting with Foster, and of their talk regarding the freshman presidency.
"Well," answered Paul, smiling at Cowan, "you'll have to get out of that promise to Foster or whatever his name is, because we've got a plan better than that.

The fact is, Neil, I'm going to try for the presidency myself!" "I suppose you're fooling ?" gasped Neil.
"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.