The big German had come 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.