"No," broke in the plain-clothes man, reluctantly. "I'd have done that if possible, but Dodge's father put the warrant in my hand and insisted."
"He?" echoed Darrin, bitterly. "The very man that Dick and I rescued when he was out of his head and in the clutches of scoundrels He? Oh, this is infamous—-or crazy!"
"I know it is," nodded Officer Hemingway sympathetically. "But what am I to do when——-"
"Hustle aboard, there, you Prescott and Darrin!" roared Captain
Wadleigh's voice from an open window.
"You hear, Hemingway?" urged Dave.
"Yes; but I can't help it," sighed the policeman.
"We're not going—-can't——-" fluttered Darrin. His voice was low, but it reached the captain of the eleven.
"What's that?" roared Wadleigh, making a dash for the door of the car. "Keep your seats, you other fellows. I——-"
"You go, Dave—-you must!" commanded Dick. "Hurry! The train is starting. Hustle! Play for both of us."
Dick gave his chum a push that was compelling. Dave yielded, boarding the step as the end of the car went by him.