ide of the street slowly walking toward me. My heart
thumped, I could hardly breathe. In a moment with a frantic rush I had
reached the nearest lamp-post and was clinging breathless. I could not
scream, I shut my eyes in sickening fear and waited for the rushing of
enormous wings.

But there came no Condor swooping.

Another rush--another post--another and another!

"What's the matter with you, little feller?"

I looked up at the big safe policeman and laughed.

"I'm playing a game," I almost shouted, and ran without touching another
post two blocks to the cobblestone space below. I ran blindly around it
several times, I bumped into a man who said, "Heigh there! Look out!"
After that I strutted proudly, then turned and ran back with all my
might up the street, and into our house and up to my room. And there on
my bed to my great surprise I found myself sobbing and sobbing. It was a
long time before I could stop. I had had my first adventure.

* * * * *

I made many Sunday trips after that, and on no one of them was I caught.
For delighted and proud at what I had done I kept asking Belle to talk
of the Condor, gloomily she piled on the terrors, and seeing the awed
look in my eyes (awe at my own courage in defying such a bird), she felt
so sure of my safety that often she would barely look up from her Bible
the whole afternoon. Even on workdays over her sewing she would forget.
And so I went "to destruction."

At first I stayed but a little while and never left the cobblestone
space, only peering up into the steep little streets that led to the
fearsome homes of the "Micks." But then I made the acquaintance of Sam.
It happened through a small toy boat which I had taken down there with
the purpose of starting it off for "heathen lands." As I headed across
the railroad tracks that led to the docks, suddenly Sam and his gang
appeared from around a freight car. I stood stock-still. They were
certainly "Micks"--ragged and dirty, with holes in their shoes and soot
on their faces. Sam was smoking a cigarette.

"Heigh, fellers," he said, "look at Willy's boat."

I clutched my boat tighter and turned to run. But the next moment Sam
had me by the arm.

"Look here, young feller," he growled. "You've got the wrong man to do
business with this time."

"I don't want to do any business," I gasped.

"Smash him, Sam--smash in his nut for him," piped the smallest Micky
cheerfully. And this Sam