corner at my heels came that persistent Mongolian. It was the old
story of the hare and the tortoise. He could not run so fast as I, but
he stayed with it, plodding along at a shambling and deceptive trot,
and wasting much good breath in noisy imprecations. He called all
Sacramento to witness the dishonor that had been done him, and a
goodly portion of Sacramento heard and flocked at his heels. And I ran
on like the hare, and ever that persistent Mongolian, with the
increasing rabble, overhauled me. But finally, when a policeman had
joined his following, I let out all my links. I twisted and turned,
and I swear I ran at least twenty blocks on the straight away. And I
never saw that Chinaman again. The hat was a dandy, a brand-new
Stetson, just out of the shop, and it was the envy of the whole push.
Furthermore, it was the symbol that I had delivered the goods. I wore
it for over a year.

Road-kids are nice little chaps--when you get them alone and they are
telling you "how it happened"; but take my word for it, watch out for
them when they run in pack. Then they are wolves, and like wolves they
are capable of dragging down the strongest man. At such times they are
not cowardly. They will fling themselves upon a man and hold on with
every ounce of strength in their wiry bodies, till he is thrown and
helpless. More than once have I seen them do it, and I know whereof I
speak. Their motive is usually robbery. And watch out for the "strong
arm." Every kid in the push I travelled with was expert at it. Even
French Kid mastered it before he lost his legs.

I have strong upon me now a vision of what I once saw in "The
Willows." The Willows was a clump of trees in a waste piece of land
near the railway depot and not more than five minutes walk from the
heart of Sacramento. It is night-time and the scene is illumined by
the thin light of stars. I see a husky laborer in the midst of a pack
of road-kids. He is infuriated and cursing them, not a bit afraid,
confident of his own strength. He weighs about one hundred and eighty
pounds, and his muscles are hard; but he doesn't know what he is up
against. The kids are snarling. It is not pretty. They make a rush
from all sides, and he lashes out and whirls. Barber Kid is standing
beside me. As the man whirls, Barber Kid leaps forward and does the
trick. Into the man's back goes his knee; around the man's neck, from
behind, passes his right hand, the bone of the wrist pressing agains