him down in the
snow, proceeded deliberately to kick him to death.

But even as he threw the boy down, a shrill screaming pierced
through the quiet of the night, and from the back of the house a
little girl ran shrieking. "He is killing him! He is killing him!"

It was little Elizabeth Ketzel, who had been let in through the
back window to hear Kalman sing, and who, at the first appearance
of trouble, had fled by the way she had entered, meeting Rosenblatt
as he appeared dragging the insensible boy through the snow. Her
shrieks arrested the man in his murderous purpose. He turned and
fled, leaving the boy bleeding and insensible in the snow.

As Rosenblatt disappeared, a cutter drove rapidly up.

"What's the row, kiddie?" said a man, springing out. It was
Dr. Wright, returning from a midnight trip to one of his
patients in the foreign colony. "Who's killing who?"

"It is Kalman!" cried Elizabeth, "and he is dead! Oh, he is dead!"

The doctor knelt beside the boy. "Great Caesar! It surely is my
friend Kalman, and in a bad way. Some more vendetta business,
I have no doubt. Now what in thunder is that, do you suppose?"
From the house came a continuous shrieking. "Some more killing,
I guess. Here, throw this robe about the boy while I see about this."

He ran to the door and kicked it open. It seemed as if the whole
company of twenty or thirty men were every man fighting. As the
doctor paused to get his bearings, he saw across the room in the
farthest corner, Irma screaming as she struggled in the grasp of
Samuel Sprink, and in the midst of the room Paulina fighting like
a demon and uttering strange weird cries. She was trying to force
her way to the door.

As she caught sight of the doctor, she threw out her hands toward
him with a loud cry. "Kalman--killing! Kalman--killing!" was all
she could say.

The doctor thrust himself forward through the struggling men,
crying in a loud voice, "Here, you, let that woman go! And you
there, let that girl alone!"

Most of the men knew him, and at his words they immediately
ceased fighting.

"What the deuce are you at, anyway, you men?" he continued,
as Paulina and the girl sprang past him and out of the door.
"Do you fight with women?"

"No," said one of the men. "Dis man," pointing to Sprink,
"he mak fun wit de girl."

"Mighty poor fun," said the doctor, turning toward Sprink.
"And who has been killing that boy outside?"

"It is that young devil Kalman, who has b