spectators, reserving to themselves the right of comment and expletive. The frenzied fighter was now raining blows thick and fast at Scott, while the latter was cooly warding them off or dodging them with no attempt at aggression. The crowd, speedily discovering his skill as well as his lack of offensive warfare, began to warm up towards him. No one likes a bully, unless it is a bully, and this one was losing friends rapidly. "Why don't you hit him?" "You can knock him out if you only want to!" were some of the cries that were uttered for his encouragement. Just at that moment there came a signal from one of the outposts or sentries that this class most naturally appoints on all serious occasions, "The cop's a-comin'!" and with that they seemed to melt more rapidly, and, apparently, more mysteriously than they had congregated, leaving Scott and the little fellow alone. When the policeman came up there was no difficulty in convincing him of the facts in the case, especially since the crowd had fled and they had not. Scott, however, was warned by the officer that the neighborhood was dangerous, and that it was unsafe for any one to loiter there, or to take part in any of the affairs of the inhabitants.

This whole trouble in the street was so sudden in its inception, and so rapid in its finish, that Scott scarcely had time to become excited, and he certainly was not wearied by his enforced exercise. After getting away from the unpleasant locality and back into civilization, he found a modest little

restaurant that held out to him the inducements of cleanliness and cheapness. This he entered, determining to obtain an early lunch at his leisure, that he might gain from it the most good for the game of the afternoon. Here he had several strange experiences that proved how easily a man may be shadowed in a large city and never suspect it.

As he was partaking of his soup and awaiting his steak, he looked over the headlines of an early edition of an afternoon paper that had been placed on the table by the waitress. While he was reading, a dirty form slipped in beside him, unnoticed, till he heard a voice:

"Say, Mister, I wants to t'ank yer fer helpin' me. I didn't wanter fight, but there's a feud 'tween our famblys, and fer th' sake of honor we's gotter fight. My dad walloped his dad t' other day bootiful, an' he wanted ter take it out on me. Say! but all the peoples in our street is talkin' about th' way yer played wid that feller. They guyed him and kidded him till he was glad ter git away. They say that yer could wipe ther street wid him if yer wanted ter. Say! I wants ter let yer know I t'ank yer some way, so I follered yer w'en yer walked off wid ther cop, an' I want yer ter take this as a mementer." Hereupon he presented Scott with a Canadian quarter with a hole in it, in which was tied a soiled piece of red ribbon.

"Me mother guv it ter me 'fore she died wid ther consumshun, w'ile she was pale an' sick on her bed. She said: 'Jimmy, I can't live much longer;

I got ter go. I wanted ter live and help yer, best I could, but somehow there ain't much chance fer poor people ter be good. I wants yer ter be good, Jimmy, an' I'se tried ter pray ter God fer yer, ther God I 'member hearin' about when I was young, but I kinder fergits ther way; suthin' like, "Now I goes ter bed ter sleep;" but down some'rs insider me I feels a-goin' out ter suthin' or somebody thet 's good an' true, an' I feels kinder glad an' happy that I ain't goin' ter live, 'ceptin' fer yer. It kinder seems as if I'd been havin' a bad dream, an' was jest goin' ter wake in ther sunshine wid their bootiful birds singin' w'ere all's happy an' well. Yer sees I've allers had thet queer feelin' insider me that made me want ter do ther best I could, an' I kinder feel it 's all right now.' She was tired after sayin' all that, yer can be sure. She felt down under ther coverin's some'rs an' fetched this up. She said: 'It's all I got, Jimmy. Take this, an' 'member mother, an' try ter keep that feelin' insider yer. It'll make yer feel good w'en yer comes ter die.' Then she pulled me down t' her an' kissed me, an' we both on us choked up an' could n't say 'nother word." Jimmy had to stop at this point and wipe his eyes on a very soiled rag that, out of courtesy, might have been called a handkerchief.

Scott was much moved, and was tempted not to take the last gift of a dying mother, but it represented genuine gratitude, and as Jimmy added: "It kinder seems ter me that mother wants yer ter take it," he could not resist. Jimmy had a good

dinner that day, and during its progress he told Scott much of his history, and before he left "ter meet a 'gagement," as he put it, he told Scott never to be afraid to come down their street, for they were all talking about him and thought that he was made of the right kind of stuff.

Jimmy had been gone but a moment when a great, big, slouchy fellow came in with his hat in his hand, and said that he had been waiting for that "kid" to get out of the way. He only wanted to say that the fellows in Blacksly Street had sent him as a committee to say to the stranger that he might make himself at home in their room, Number Seventeen, down in the cellar, where their club met. Scott thanked him kindly, and told him that he would drop in on them some time. The man insisted that he had been made an honorary member of the club.

Scott had given Jimmy a ticket to the baseball game, and now he proffered one to this man, and it was eagerly accepted. He also gave to both of them a little card, very neatly printed, which he told them to put in their pocket and read at their leisure. The card was simplicity itself: "It is a · wonderful thing to be free; but no matter how free we are, some one owns us. Who owns you? Are you obeying Satan, your eternal enemy, or the great King, Jesus Christ, your Friend? I commend you to this King, who rules in love, but who has all power. He will help you here on earth, and will assist you to reach a better home by and by. Your friend, Manly E. Scott, will pray for