There were several excited yells, the sound of running feet, and then more distinct cries.
"He's bent on killing the officer! Run!" "Look out! Here he comes! Scoot!" "He's crazy!" Then came several more yells, a note of terror in them all.
Five youngsters of the football squad were so near the gate that they broke into a run for the open.

Coach Morton, too, sped ahead at full steam, though he was some distance behind the members of the squad.

The citizens followed, running and puffing.
Once outside, they all came upon a curious sight.

One of the smallest members of Gridley's police force had attempted to stop a big, red-faced, broad-shouldered man who, coatless and hatless had come running down the street.
Two men had gotten in the way of this fellow and had been knocked over.

Then the little policeman had darted in, bent on distinguishing himself.