etter than four straight months.

Believe me, I was at the very bottom of my career that night. For five
cents cash I would have parked the car, thrown the keys in the East
River, and taken the first bus out of town. I was absolutely positive
that the story would be a bust and all I would get out of it would be a
bad cold from walking around in the snow.

And if that doesn't show you what a hot newspaperman I really am,
nothing will.

* * * * *

Sol began to act interested as we reached the corner Harrison had told
us to go to. "That's Chris's," he said, pointing at a little candy
store. "And that must be the pool hall where the Leopards hang out."

"You know this place?"

He nodded. "I know a man named Walter Hutner. He and I went to school
together, until he dropped out, couple weeks ago. He quit college to go
to the Police Academy. He wanted to be a cop."

I looked at him. "You're going to college?"

"Sure, Mr. Van Pelt. Wally Hutner was a sociology major--I'm
journalism--but we had a couple of classes together. He had a part-time
job with a neighborhood council up here, acting as a sort of adult
adviser for one of the gangs."

"They need advice on how to be gangs?"

"No, that's not it, Mr. Van Pelt. The councils try to get their workers
accepted enough to bring the kids in to the social centers, that's all.
They try to get them off the streets. Wally was working with a bunch
called the Leopards."

I shut him up. "Tell me about it later!" I stopped the car and rolled
down a window, listening.

* * * * *

Yes, there was something going on all right. Not at the corner Harrison
had mentioned--there wasn't a soul in sight in any direction. But I
could hear what sounded like gunfire and yelling, and, my God, even
bombs going off! And it wasn't too far away. There were sirens,
too--squad cars, no doubt.

"It's over that way!" Sol yelled, pointing. He looked as though he was
having the time of his life, all keyed up and delighted. He didn't have
to tell me where the noise was coming from, I could hear for myself. It
sounded like D-Day at Normandy, and I didn't like the sound of it.

I made a quick decision and slammed on the brakes, then backed the car
back the way we had come. Sol looked at me. "What--"

"Local color," I explained quickly. "This the place you were talking
about? Chris's? Let's go in and see if we can find some of these
hoodl