"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!") "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.