to be the mascot of Gridley
High School.

Just before the train started Herr Schimmelpodt waddled out to
the rear platform of the car.

In his right hand he brandished a massive cane to which the Gridley
High School colors were secured.

"Now, listen," he bellowed out. "Ve come back our scalps not
wigs! You hear dot, alretty?"

While the cheering was still going on, and while the band was
crashing out music, the first section pulled out, making room
for the second section.

A run of a little more than an hour at good speed, and with no
way stops, brought the Gridley invading forces to Fordham.

At the depot, the local team's second coach awaited the players.
He had two stages at hand, into which the team and subs piled.
A wagon followed, carrying the kits of the Gridley boys. There
were two more stages for the band. All the other travelers had
to depend on the street-car service.

Finding the stages rather crowded, Dick nudged Darrin, then made
for the kit wagon.

"I really believe we'll have more comfort, Dave," proposed Prescott,
"if we get aboard, this rig and ride on top of the tog bags."

The suggestion was carried out at once.

"I'll drive along fast, if you want," proposed the driver, "and
get the togs down to the grounds ahead of your team."

"If you please," nodded Dick. "Our boys will want everything
ready when they reach the grounds."

So the two chums were quickly carried beyond the noise and confusion.
A few minutes later the wagon turned in at the Fordham Athletic
grounds.

The Fordham High School boys were out in the field, practicing.
As seen in their padded togs they were an extra-bulky looking
lot.

"Great Scott!" grunted Darrin, half disgustedly. "Each one of
those Fordham fellows must weigh close to a ton."

"The more weight the less speed, anyway," laughed Dick good-humoredly.

"And, look! I wonder how old some of those fellows are," continued
Darrin. "I wonder if, in this town, men wait until they've made
their fortunes and retired, before they enter High School. Why,
some of these Fordham fellows must have voted for president the
last two times."

"Hardly as bad as that, I guess," smiled Prescott. "Still, these
Fordham boys do look more like a college eleven than a High School
crowd."

Dave continued to gaze over at the home team, and to scowl, until
the wagon was halted before dressing quarters. Here the teamster
and another man made short work of carrying i