“Prescott and his well-known comrades of the High School appear to be leading in the very vanguard of athletics this year,” stated “The Blade” editorially.

Dick and his friends could not, however, give as much aid to the new scheme now as they intended to do later.  They were in the middle of the football season, and that had to be carried through first of all.

Yet it was a big evening for Dick, Dave and their chums when the High School gym. was thrown open for the forming of the gymnastic class for young men.

Almost three hundred presented themselves for enrollment.  Scores of the leading citizens were also on hand to see how the new plan would take.  Among these latter was Herr Schimmelpodt, the retired contractor, who was always such an enthusiastic booster for High School athletics.

“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?  This would do you a lot of good.”

“Maype, if I go in for dis sort of thing, I crowd out some young mans who needs it as much as you do,” retorted the German, blinking.

“But don’t you think you need it, also” laughed the clerk?

“Now, led me see,” pondered the German.  “Young man, you think you gan run?”

“I know I can,” laughed the clerk, leaping lightly up and down on his soft gym. shoes.

“I yonder if you could reach dot door ofer dere so soon alretty as I gan?” queried Herr Schimmelpodt.

“Will you run me a race?” grinned the clerk.

“Vell, you start, und ve see apout it.”

Tantalizingly, the clerk started.  Then he glanced back over his shoulder.  There was a great noise on the floor of the gym.  Herr Sclhimmelpodt had started.  He was so big that he made a good deal of noise when he traveled.  But he was going like a streak, and the clerk began to sprint in earnest.

It was all in vain, however.  With a few great bounds Herr Schimmelpodt was close enough to reach out one of his big arms and lay hold of the fleeing clerk.  That clerk stopped suddenly, with a jolt.

“Vy don’t you go on running, ain’t it?” demanded Herr Schimmelpodt.

A crowd formed about them.

The reason why the clerk didn’t continue his running was a very good one.  One of the German’s big hands encircled the clerk’s thin arm like a bracelet of steel.  The clerk struggled, but he might as well have tried to break out of irons.

“You vant me to bractise running, so dot I gan catch you, eh?” grunted the German.  “You vant me to eat breakfast sawdust for a dyspepsia vot I ain’t got, huh?  You vant me to dake breathing eggsercises ven I can dake more air into my lungs, alretty, dan your whole body gan disblace?  You vant me to do monkey-tricks mit a dumb-pell, yen I gan do things like dis?”