n't stop at the fence. He put up one hand,
hurdled it, and disappeared across the campus like a young whirlwind.

"He doesn't know enough to stop!" yelled Bost, rushing up to the fence.
"Hustle up, you fellows, and bring him back!"

[Illustration: "Aye ent care to stop," he said "Aye kent suit you,
Master Bost"
_Page 24_]

Three or four of us jumped the fence, but it was a hopeless game. Ole
was disappearing up the campus and across the street. The Muggledorfer
team was nonplussed and sort of indignant. To be bowled over by a
cyclone, and then to have said cyclone break up the game by running away
with the ball was to them a new idea in football. It wasn't to those of
us who knew Ole, however. One of us telephoned down to the _Leader_
office where Hinckley, an old team man, worked, and asked him to head
off Ole and send him back. Muggledorfer kindly consented to call time,
and we started after the fugitive ourselves.

Ten minutes later we met Hinckley downtown. He looked as if he had had a
slight argument with a thirteen-inch shell. He was also mad.

"What was that you asked me to stop?" he snorted, pinning himself
together. "Was it a gorilla or a high explosive? When did you fellows
begin importing steam rollers for the team? I asked him to stop. I
ordered him to stop. Then I went around in front of him to stop him--and
he ran right over me. I held on for thirty yards, but that's no way to
travel. I could have gone to the next town just as well, though. What
sort of a game is this, and where is that tow-headed holy terror bound
for?"

We gave the answer up, but we couldn't give up Ole. He was too valuable
to lose. How to catch him was the sticker. An awful uproar in the street
gave us an idea. It was Ted Harris in the only auto in town--one of the
earliest brands of sneeze vehicles. In a minute more four of us were in,
and Ted was chiveying the thing up the street.

If you've never chased an escaping fullback in one of those pioneer
automobiles you've got something coming. Take it all around, a good,
swift man, running all the time, could almost keep ahead of one. We
pumped up a tire, fixed a wire or two, and cranked up a few times; and
the upshot of it was we were two miles out on the state road before we
caught sight of Ole.

He was trotting briskly when we caught up with him, the ball under his
arm, and that patient, resigned expression on his face that he always
had when Bost cussed hi