y day somebody dies down there, but anyway there are
paving--stones there now, that's one good thing. Except for tracking. So
you see how it was that person, who ever he was, could have gone up Main
Street or down Main Street, or over the stone crossing into Barrel Alley.

I decided that he went across into Barrel Alley for several reasons. One
was that he went across the ball field, and that meant that he'd have to
get down and crawl under the fence, so I decided it was not a grown-up
person, because most of them have stiff backs and they'd rather walk a
mile than crawl under a fence. They're all the time saying they're not
as young as they used to be. And if it was a boy he'd be most likely to
go into Barrel Alley because, believe me, they have boys down there by
the dozens, especially the kind that wear worn-out shoes that rich people
give them. So that accounts for the good shoes all worn out. Smart boy,
hey?

So you see that's the way I bridged that trail, though I couldn't be
sure I was right, I have to admit that. Anyway I went across the street
and I saw by the clock in the bank that it was half past twelve. I knew
I couldn't go much farther because I wanted to get back to the
house-boat by one.

I started down Barrel Alley, watching the mud along the edge of the
sidewalk, so I could tell if the fellow left the sidewalk to go into
one of the houses. Barrel Alley is a blind alley-that means it has an
end to it and you can't go any further. It runs plunk into the end of
Shad Row. Norris Row is the right name, but old man Norris is named
Shadley Norris, so us fellows call it Shad Row. You can get through
the end of Barrel Alley if you climb over old man Norris back fence, so
it isn't exactly a blind alley. It's just a little near-sighted, kind of.

Anyway I started through it and I knew if my quarry (that means the
fellow you're tracking) went down there, he most likely went into
one of the tenement houses and I'd see that footprint as soon as he
turned off from the sidewalk.

Well, pretty soon I did see it right alongside the sidewalk just where
he started to go into one of the houses. And oh, wasn't I tickled! If it
hadn't been for Westy Martin and the way he'd acted I would have felt
as grand as the Grand Central Station. But that was the thing I was
thinking most about and when you're thinking about something like that,
you don't have as much fun--I know I don't anyway.

But as long as I was there, I migh