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But now, at last, Herr Schimmelpodt heard steps inside, so he threw open the heavy door at once. As Dick and Dave came out again into the sunlight what a mighty roar of applause and cheering went up. Then Herr Schimmelpodt, advancing to the edge of the steps, and laying one hand over his heart, bowed profoundly and repeatedly. That turned the cheering to laughter.
"Ach! By chimminy, though, I don't know yet." "I was wondering myself whether I could make a good try at steeple climbing," laughed Dick eagerly. "The money sounds good to me anyway." "No; I don't know. I think it would be foolish," replied Herr Schimmelpodt. "I believe you could get up there, Dick," muttered Darrin, in a low voice. "Then you could, Dave." "I think I could," nodded Darrin.
"I tell you, Bresgott, it vos a fine idea of yours," cried the big German, as he stood in a corner, looking on, while Dick talked with him. "This vill keep young folks out of drouble, and put dem in health. It vill put Gridley to being twice as good a town, alretty." "Hullo, Mr. Schimmelpodt," called a young clerk, passing in trunks and gym. shoes. "Don't you get into a squad to-night?
Dick waved his arms, wind-mill fashion in the quick effort to save himself. "Bresgott," observed the seated contractor, solemnly, "I bet you five tollars to den cents dot you " Here Schimmelpodt waited until Dick settled the question of the center of gravity by sprawling on the sidewalk. " -Dot you fall," finished the German, gravely. "I -Und I yin!" "Why, good morning, Mr.
Wily Dick Prescott had been to see Mr. Gadsby, just before the arrival of the principal. In his other capacity of reporter for "The Blade" the High School pitcher had said a few earnest words to his host. Mr. Gadsby, with his eye turned ever toward election day and the press, had been wholly willing to listen. "Ya, ya, ya! Ye gotter do somethings!" This from Mr. Schimmelpodt.
Her husband, too, was at first against it. But, now that the die was fairly cast, Herr Schimmelpodt firmly championed the boys. "Eider von of dem gan do it -easy!" declared the big German. "You don't know dem boys vot? Ach, I do. Dey got der brain, der nerves und der muscle." "It's a crime to let such youths attempt the thing," shivered an anaemic-looking man in the crowd.
The pair of them laid plans that aimed to stop Dick Prescott's career as High School pitcher. Mr. Schimmelpodt had offered that fifty dollars in a moment of undue excitement. For two or three days afterward he wondered if he couldn't find some way out of "spending" the money that would yet let him keep his self-respect. Finding, at last, that he could not, he wrote out the check and mailed it.
With the last game of the season gone by, Dick half imagined that his right wrist was a huge boil. At the gateway Schimmelpodt, that true devotee of sport, waited. As the young High School pitcher came forth Herr Schimmelpodt rested a fat hand on the boy's shoulder, whispering in his ear: "Ach! But I know vere is dere a real jointed fishpole.
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.
I'd sooner lose the scarf than have lives risked." "She needn't worry," sneered some one in the crowd. "The High School dudes are only bluffing. They haven't either o' them the sand to do a thing like that." Both Prescott and Darrin heard. Both flushed, though that was all the sign they gave. "Herr Schimmelpodt, you must have a cent," suggested Dick.
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