had smashed into Jimmie's mouth. Blood was bubbling over his
chin and down upon his ragged shirt. Tears made furrows on his
dirt-stained cheeks. His thin legs had begun to tremble and turn weak,
causing his small body to reel. His roaring curses of the first part
of the fight had changed to a blasphemous chatter.

In the yells of the whirling mob of Devil's Row children there were
notes of joy like songs of triumphant savagery. The little boys seemed
to leer gloatingly at the blood upon the other child's face.

Down the avenue came boastfully sauntering a lad of sixteen years,
although the chronic sneer of an ideal manhood already sat upon his
lips. His hat was tipped with an air of challenge over his eye.
Between his teeth, a cigar stump was tilted at the angle of defiance.
He walked with a certain swing of the shoulders which appalled the
timid. He glanced over into the vacant lot in which the little raving
boys from Devil's Row seethed about the shrieking and tearful child
from Rum Alley.

"Gee!" he murmured with interest. "A scrap. Gee!"

He strode over to the cursing circle, swinging his shoulders in a
manner which denoted that he held victory in his fists. He approached
at the back of one of the most deeply engaged of the Devil's Row
children.

"Ah, what deh hell," he said, and smote the deeply-engaged one on the
back of the head. The little boy fell to the ground and gave a hoarse,
tremendous howl. He scrambled to his feet, and perceiving, evidently,
the size of his assailant, ran quickly off, shouting alarms. The
entire Devil's Row party followed him. They came to a stand a short
distance away and yelled taunting oaths at the boy with the chronic
sneer. The latter, momentarily, paid no attention to them.

"What deh hell, Jimmie?" he asked of the small champion.

Jimmie wiped his blood-wet features with his sleeve.

"Well, it was dis way, Pete, see! I was goin' teh lick dat Riley kid
and dey all pitched on me."

Some Rum Alley children now came forward. The party stood for a moment
exchanging vainglorious remarks with Devil's Row. A few stones were
thrown at long distances, and words of challenge passed between small
warriors. Then the Rum Alley contingent turned slowly in the direction
of their home street. They began to give, each to each, distorted
versions of the fight. Causes of retreat in particular cases were
magnified. Blows dealt in the fight were enlarged to catapultian