ack of nimbleness, it was hazardous to attempt to board the
moving train.

Yet Herr Schimmelpodt made a wild dash for the train. He would
have been mangled or killed, had not Officer Hemingway caught
the anxious German and pulled him back.

"Hey, you! Vot for you do dot?" screamed Herr Schimmelpodt.
"Hey? Answer me dot vun, dumm-gesicht!" (Foolish-faced one.)

"I did it to save you from going under the wheels," retorted Officer
Hemingway dryly.

"Und now I don't go me by dot game today!" groaned Herr Schimmelpodt.
"Me! I dream apout dot game all der veek, und now I don't see
me by it."

"But, man-----"

"Hal's maul." (Literally' "Shut your mouth!")

"Me! Und I Couldn't lose dot game for ein dollar!" glared the
prosperous German.

He stared after the departed second section, from the open windows
of which fluttered or wildly waved many a banner; for few of the
Gridley crowd had yet discovered that one of the most prized members
of the team had been left behind.

Herr Schimmelpodt it was, who, a wealthy retired contractor, had
found his second youth in his enthusiasm over the High School
baseball nine the season before.

Though thrifty enough in most matters, the German had become a
liberal contributor to the High School athletic fund, to the great
dismay of his good wife, who feared that his new outdoor fads
would yet land them both in the poorhouse.

"Vot you doing here, Bresgott?" demanded Herr Schimmelpodt, turning
upon the young prisoner. "Vy you ain't by dot elefen? How dey going
to vin bis you are behint left?"

"You have company in your misery, sir," said Officer Hemingway.
"I'm awfully sorry to say that Dick Prescott can't see today's
game, either. It's a whopping shame, but sometimes the law is
powerless to do right."

"What foolishness are you talking mit, vonce alretty?" demanded
Herr Schimmelpodt, looking bewildered.

"I've just been arrested, on a false charge of assault," Dick
stated quietly.

"You? Und you don't blay by der game yet' By der beard of Charlemagne,"
howled Herr Schimmelpodt excitedly, "ve see apoud dot!"

Digging down into a trouser's pocket this enthusiastic old High
School "rooter" brought up a roll of bills almost as large around
as a loaf of bread.

CHAPTER XV

A "FACER" FOR THE PLOTTER

"What are you going to do with all that wallpaper, Mr.Schimmelpodt?"
laughed Officer Hemingway.

"Me? I gif bail, don't I?" demanded the German.

"Well, y