“Do you think they’d assassinate us?” jeered Bert.

“I—–­I think Wadleigh may have formed the notion of stopping us and giving us a thrashing,” responded Bayliss.

“Bosh!” snapped Dodge quickly.

Yet, none the less, he paused and looked thoughtful.

“There’s more than one road to Gridley, old fellow,” muttered Bert uneasily.  “You see Schimmelpodt and that mocker didn’t pass us on the way here.”

“But I think they’re likely to have guessed our road,” persisted Bayliss.  “There was an ugly look on Wadleigh’s face, too, as that car drove past here.”

“But old Schimmelpodt wouldn’t stand for anything disorderly and—–­unlawful,” urged Bert.

“I don’t know about that,” retorted Bayliss significantly.  “That old German has gone crazy over High School sports.  He might stand in for ’most anything.  You know, he offered your Dad to give you a spanking this afternoon.”

The thought of Herr Schimmelpodt’s big and capable-looking hands caused Bert to shiver a bit uneasily.  Yet he didn’t want to admit that he was scared.  He glanced at his watch.

“We’ve time to catch the regular train back, I suppose, Bayliss.”

“Let’s do it, then,” begged the other.

“Will you pay a chauffeur to take this car home, then?”

“I’ll pay half,” volunteered Bayliss eagerly.

“All right, then; if you’re pretty near broke, we’ll divide the cost,” agreed Dodge.

An arrangement was easily made with the owner of the garage.  Then, the charges paid, this pair of cronies, who considered themselves much better than the usual run of High School boys, hurried over to the railway station.

The train was waiting by the time that the pair arrived.  Bert and Bayliss hastily purchased tickets, then boarded the handiest car.  The train proved to contain few people except the Gridley student body and boosters from that town.

“Here, what are you fellows doing in here?” angrily demanded Purcell, as the cronies entered one of the cars.

“We’re going to ride to Gridley, if you’ve no objections,” replied Bert, with sulky defiance.

“No, sir; not in this car!” declared Purcell promptly.  “Too many decent people here.  The cattle car for yours!”

“Oh, shut up!” retorted Dodge, trying to shove into a vacant seat.

But Purcell gripped him and pushed him back.

“No, siree!  Not in here!  The cattle car is your number.”

“You-----”

“We’ll pitch you off the train if you have the cheek to try to ride in this ear,” insisted Purcell.

High School boys, when off on a junket of this kind, are likely to be as wild as college boys.  A score of the Gridley youths now jumped up.  It looked as though there were going to be a riot.

“Oh, come on,” snarled Bayliss, plucking his crony’s sleeve.  “We don’t want to ride with this truck, anyway.”