“Team aboard, first day coach behind the smoker!” roared Captain Wadleigh, and the fellows made a rush.

“The truth is,” confessed Hemingway, “I’ve a war-----”

Dick saw light in an instant.

“Oh, that wretched Dodge?   He has-----”

“Sworn out a warrant for your arrest,” nodded Hemingway.

Laura and Belle did not hear or see this.  They were hurrying rearward along the train.

Few of the football fellows saw the trouble, for they were busy boarding the car named by Captain Wadleigh.

Dave Darrin was the only one to pay urgent heed.

“See here, Hemingway,” began Dave, “Dick will come back—–­you know that.  He’s desperately needed today.  Won’t it do just as well-----”

“No,” broke in the plain-clothes man, reluctantly.  “I’d have done that if possible, but Dodge’s father put the warrant in my hand and insisted.”

“He?” echoed Darrin, bitterly.  “The very man that Dick and I rescued when he was out of his head and in the clutches of scoundrels He?  Oh, this is infamous—–­or crazy!”

“I know it is,” nodded Officer Hemingway sympathetically.   “But
what am I to do when-----”

“Hustle aboard, there, you Prescott and Darrin!” roared Captain Wadleigh’s voice from an open window.

“You hear, Hemingway?” urged Dave.

“Yes; but I can’t help it,” sighed the policeman.

“We’re not going---can’t-----” fluttered Darrin.   His voice was
low, but it reached the captain of the eleven.

“What’s that?” roared Wadleigh, making a dash for the door of
the car.   “Keep your seats, you other fellows.   I-----”

“You go, Dave—–­you must!” commanded Dick.  “Hurry!  The train is starting.  Hustle!  Play for both of us.”

Dick gave his chum a push that was compelling.  Dave yielded, boarding the step as the end of the car went by him.

“What-----” began Wadleigh, breathlessly.

“I’ll explain,” panted Darrin angrily.

The train was now in full motion.

“Hey, dere!  Stop dot train, quick!  Me!  I am not off board, yet!”

It was Herr Schimmelpodt, hot, perspiring and gasping, who now raced upon the platform.  For one of his weight, combined with his lack 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!”)