rows, they are, you know. I guess they add a few marks
of identification, just for the family records," replied Tom Dolan, an
old man on the precinct. "However, I get along with 'em all right by
keeping my eye out for trouble and never letting any of 'em get me
first. They're all right, as long as you smile at 'em. But they're
tricky, tricky. And when you hurt a Wop's vanity it's time to get a
half-nelson on your night-stick!"

They separated, Dolan starting down the garbage-strewn side street to
chase a few noisy push-cart merchants who, having no other customers in
view, had congregated to barter over their respective wares.

"Beat it, you!" ordered Dolan. "This ain't no Chamber of Commerce.
Git!"

With muttered imprecation the peddlers pushed on their carts to make
place for a noisy, tuneless hurdy-gurdy. On the pavement at its side a
dozen children congregated--none over ten--to dance the turkey trot and
the "nigger," according to the most approved Bowery artistry of
"spieling."

"Lord, no wonder they fall into the gutter when they grow up," thought
Bobbie. "They're sitting in it from the time they get out of their
swaddling rags."

Bobbie walked up to the nearby fruit merchant.

"How much is this apple, Tony?"

The Italian looked at him warily, and then smirked.

"Eet's nothing toa you, signor. I'ma da policeman's friend. You taka
him."

Bobbie laughed, as he fished out a nickel from his pocket. He shook
his head, as he replied.

"No, Tony, I don't get my apples from the 'policeman's friend.' I can
pay for them. You know all of us policemen aren't grafters--even on
the line of apples and peanuts."

The Italian's eyes grew big.

"Well, you'ra de first one dat offer to maka me de pay, justa de same.
Eet's a two centa, eef you insist."

He gave Bobbie his change, and the young man munched away on the fresh
fruit with relish. The Italian gave him a sunny grin, and then
volunteered:

"Youa de new policeman, eh?"

"I have been in the hospital for more than a month, so that's why you
haven't seen me. How long have you been on this corner? There was
another man here when I came this way last."

"Si, signor. That my cousin Beppo. But he's gone back to It'. He had
some money--he wanta to keep eet, so he go while he can."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I don'ta wanta talk about eet, signor," said the Italian, with a
strange look. "Eet'sa bad to say I was his cousin even."

The d