“What are you going to do with all that wallpaper, Mr.Schimmelpodt?” laughed Officer Hemingway.

“Me?  I gif bail, don’t I?” demanded the German.

“Well, you can’t do it here.  That’s a matter to be fixed in court.”

“Und dot train going by a mile a minute, I bet you!” gasped the German ruefully.

“Come along, lad,” urged Hemingway gently.  “On Saturdays court opens at one o’clock.  We’ll get right up there and see this matter through.”

“I bet you’ve see dis matter through –­right through someone, ain’t it?” exploded Herr Schimmelpodt, ranging himself on the other side of the young prisoner.

As they went along the German, using all his native and acquired shrewdness, quickly got at the bottom of the matter.

In the meantime indignant Dave Darrin was telling all he knew about the business to an indignant lot of High School youngsters in the day coach.

“You keep your upper eyebrow stiff, Bresgott,” urged the warm-hearted German.  “I see you through by dis business.  Don’t you worry.”

“Thank you, but it isn’t the arrest that is really bothering me,” Prescott answered.  “It’s the feet that I’m fooled out of playing this afternoon.  And Darrin and I had been trained for so many special tricks for today’s game that I’m almost afraid my absence will make a difference in the score.  But, Herr Schimmelpodt, if you want to help me, do you really mind dropping in at the store and telling my father, so that he can come down to the court room?  Yet please be careful not to scare Dad.  He has a horror of courts and criminal law.”

“I bet you I do der chob –­slick,” promised the German, and hurried away.

“There goes a man that’s all right, from his feet up to the top of his head,” declared Officer Hemingway.

On the streets Dick’s appearance with Hemingway attracted little notice.  Folks were used to seeing the High School reporter of “The Blade” walking with this policeman-detective.  The few who really did notice merely wondered why Dick Prescott was not on his way to the Tottenville gridiron today.

When Hemingway and his prisoner reached the court room there were only two or three loungers there, for it was still some minutes before the time for the assembling of the court.

Presently Bert Dodge and his friend, Bayliss, dropped in.  They glanced at the young left end with no attempt to conceal their feelings of triumph.  Bert looked much the worse for wear.

Dick returned their looks coolly, but without defiance.  He was angry only that he should have been cheated of his right to play in that big game.

Then in came the elder Dodge, only just back from a sanitarium.  Beside him walked Lawyer Ripley, who immediately came over to Dick, just before Herr Schimelpodt and Dick’s father entered the room hastily.

“Prescott,” began the old lawyer, sitting down beside the young player, and speaking in a low tone, “I’ve just been called into this matter, as I’m the Dodge family lawyer.  Had my advice been asked I would have demanded much more investigation.  From what knowledge I have of you, I don’t regard you as one who is likely to commit an unprovoked assault.  Have you any objection to stating your side of the case bearing in mind, of course, the fact that I’m the Dodge lawyer.”

“Not the least in the world,” Dick replied promptly.

It was just at this moment that Herr Schimmelpodt and the elder Prescott came hastening into the room.

Bert Dodge and Bayliss looked over uneasily, several times, to where Lawyer Ripley and the young prisoner sat.  Dick’s father stood by in silence.  He already knew his son’s version of the affair of the day before.  Herr Schimmelpodt didn’t say anything, but sat down, breathing heavily.

Then the clerk of the court and two court officers came in.  Justice Vesey entered soon after and took his seat on the bench.

“The case of Dodge versus Prescott –­I mean, the people against Prescott, your honor, is the only thing on the docket this afternoon,” explained the clerk.

“Is the case ready” inquired the justice mildly.

“I will ask just a moment’s delay, your, Honor,” announced Lawyer Ripley, rising.  “I wish a moment’s conference with my principals.”

The court nodding, Mr. Ripley crossed the room, engaging in earnest whispered conversation with the Dodges, father and son.

While this was going on a telegraph messenger boy entered.  Espying Dick, he went over and handed him a yellow envelope.  Dick tore it open.  It was a telegram sent by Dave Darrin, on the way to Tottenville, and read: 

“Fred Ripley said he heard insult offered you by Dodge yesterday.  Get case adjourned to Monday and Ripley will testify in your behalf.”

Smiling, Dick passed the message to his father.  Mr. Prescott, after scanning the telegram, rose gravely, crossed the room and handed the slip of paper to Lawyer Ripley.

“If the court please, we are now ready with this case,” announced Lawyer Ripley.

“Proceed, counselor.  Mr. Clerk, you will swear such witnesses as are to be called.”

“If the court please,” hastily interjected Mr. Ripley.  “I don’t believe it is going to be necessary to call any witnesses.  With the court’s permission I will first make a few explanations.”

“This case, your Honor, is one in which Albert Dodge, a minor, with the consent of his father, has preferred a charge of aggravated assault against Richard Prescott, a minor.

“That there was a fight, and that said Prescott did vigorously assault young Dodge, there is no doubt.  Prescott himself does not deny it.  But I am satisfied, if it please the court, that the case is one in which, on the evidence, young Prescott is bound to be discharged.  I am satisfied that young Prescott had abundant provocation for the assault he committed.  Further, we have received apparently satisfactory assurance by wire that a witness is prepared to testify to conduct and speech, on the part of young Dodge, that would justify an assault, or, as the boys call it, ‘a fight.’  Now, your Honor, if the prisoner, Prescott, through his father, will agree to hold the elder Dodge blameless in the matter of civil damages on account of this arrest, I shall move to have the case dismissed.”

“Will you so agree, Mr. Prescott,” inquired the court, glancing at Dick’s father.

“Yes,” agreed the elder Prescott, “though I must offer my opinion that this arrest has been a shameful outrage.”

“Case dismissed,” broke in Justice Vesey briskly, and Mr. Ripley did not finish his remark.

Bowing to the court, Dick rose, picked up his hat and started out with his father.

But once outside Herr Schimmelpodt caught them both by the arm.

“Vait!” he commanded.  “I much vant to hear me vot Lawyer Ripley haf to say to dot young scallavag.”

“Are you talking about me?” demanded Bert Dodge, flushingly hotly, for, just at that moment, he turned out of the court room into the corridor.

“Maybe,” assented Herr Schimmelpodt.

“Then stuff a sausage in your Dutch mouth, and be quiet,” retorted Bert impudently.

“Young man, if your father hat not enough gontrol of er you, den I vill offer him dot I teach you manners by a goot spanking,” replied Herr Schimmelpodt stiffly.

“Bert, you will be silent before your elders,” ordered Mr Dodge.  “You have come close enough to getting me into trouble today.  Had I understood the whole story of the fight, as I do now, I never would have backed your application for a warrant.”

If you meet with any rebuke from young Prescott’s friends, take it in meekness, for you richly deserve censure.”

“As you are only a boy, Bert, and I am your father’s lawyer,” broke in Mr. Ripley, even more sternly, “I have used whatever powers of persuasion I may have to have this case ended mildly.  The Prescotts might have sued your father for a round sum in damages for false arrest.  And, if you and Bayliss had sworn falsely as to the nature and causes of the fight, you might both have been sent away to the reformatory on charges of perjury.  Remember that the law against false swearing applies to boys as much as it does to men.  And now, good day, Mr. Dodge.  I trust you will be able to convince your son of his wrongdoing.”

However, the elder Dodge, despite his momentary sternness, was not a parent who exercised much influence over his son.  Half an hour later Bert had out the family runabout, making fast time toward Tottenville.

“Bert,” said Bayliss, rather soberly, “I’m inclined to think that Lawyer Ripley was good enough to get us out of a fearful scrape.”

“That’s what he’s paid for,” sniffed Bert “He’s my father’s lawyer.”

“Then I’m glad your father has a good lawyer.  Whew!  It makes me sick when I stop to think that we might have been trapped into giving –­er –­prejudiced testimony, and that then we might have been shipped off to the reformatory until we’re of age!”

“Ain’t Fred Ripley the sneak, though!” ejaculated Bert angrily.  “The idea of him standing ready to ‘queer’ a case against his father’s clients!  I thought Fred had more class and caste than to go against his own crowd for the sake of a mere mucker!”

“Well, the thing turned out all right, anyway,” muttered Bayliss.  “We’re off in time to see the game.”

“And that’s more than Dick Prescott will do today,” laughed Bert sullenly.  “He can’t catch a train to Tottenville, now, in time for the game.”

“If Gridley loses the game today,” hinted Bayliss, “I suppose the fellows will all feel that it was because Prescott didn’t go along.  Then they’ll all feel like roasting us.”

“Oh, bother what the High School ninnies think –­or say,” grunted Bert.

Fifteen minutes later there was a loud popping sound.  Then a tire flattened out, so that it became necessary for the young men to get out and busy themselves with putting on another tire.  At this task they did not succeed very well until, finally, another automobilist came along and gave the boys effective help.

So it was that, by the time the pair reached Tottenville, housed the car at a garage, and reached Tottenville’s High School athletic field, the game was well on.

As the two young men reached the grand stand the Gridley contingent were on their feet, breathless.

Gridley had the ball down to the ten-yard line from Tottenville’s goal.  Captain Wadleigh’s signals were ringing out, crisp and clear.  A whistle sounded.

Then the ball was put swiftly into play.  Tottenville put up a sturdy resistance against Gridley’s left end.

Dave Darrin had the ball, and appeared to be trying to break through the Tottenville line, well backed by Gridley’s interference.

Of a sudden there was a subtle, swift pass, and Gridley’s left end darted along, almost parallel with the ten-yard line, then made a dashing cut around and past Tottenville.

“Touchdown!” yelled the frantic Gridley boosters.

“Touchdown!  Oh, you Darrin!  Oh, you Prescott!”

Bert Dodge rubbed his eyes.

“Prescott?” he muttered.

“Blazes, but that is Prescott!” faltered Bayliss, with a sickly grin.

“How did he ever get over here in time to play?” demanded Bert Dodge.

Herr Schimmelpodt could have told.  The stout, sport-loving old contractor had parted with some of his greenbacks to a chauffeur who had put Dick and himself over the long road to Tottenville.  And the young left end was playing, today, in his finest form!