n. That was a curious patter of small
hoofs--Dorothy had heard just such a sound before. That surely was a
most familiar wail:

"Oh, Baal! My jiminy cricket!"

"Jiminy cricket yourself, Jack-boot-boy! What you doing in my house?
I'm living in yours--I mean I'm boot-boy now. How are you?" cried
Robin, through the window.

"Who'm you? Have you got anything to eat? Quick! Have you?"

The voice which put the question was surely Jack's but oddly weak and
tremulous. Dorothy answered:

"Not here, Jack, course. Are you hungry?"

"Starvin'! Starvin'! I ain't touched food nor drink this two days. Oh!
Have you?"

Daylight was already fading and street lights flashing out but this
by-way of the town had no such break to the darkness. Robin was over
the rickety threshold in an instant and Dorothy quickly followed.
Neither had now any thought save for the boy within and his suffering.

They found him lying on a pile of old rags or pieces of discarded
burlap which he had picked up on the streets, or that some former
lodger in the room had gathered. Beside him was Baal, bleating
piteously, as if he, too, were starving. The reason for this was
evident when Robin stumbled over a rope by which the animal was
fastened to the window sash; else he might have strolled abroad and
foraged for himself.

But if Robin fell he was up in a second and with the instincts of a
city bred boy knew just what to do and how to do it.

"Got any money, Dorothy?"

"Yes. Twenty-five cents, my week's allowance."

"I've got ten. Mother said I might keep that much out of my week's
wages. Give it here. I'll be back in a minute."

He was gone and Dorothy dropped down on the dusty floor beside Jack
and asked his story. He told it readily enough, as far as willingness
went, but his speech lagged for once and from sheer lack of strength.

"I left--seeking my fortune. It warn't so easy as I thought it would
be. I've hired for odd jobs, held horses, run arrants, helped 'round
taverns, but didn't get no place for steady. Trouble was, folks don't
take no great to Baal. They'd put with him a spell, treat him real
decent till he'd up and butt somebody over--then his dough was cooked.
The worse he was used the better I liked him, though I'd ha' sold him
for money if I could, I've been hungry so much the time. And that
right here, Dorothy, _in a town full o' victuals_! Just chock full.
See 'em in the winders, see 'em in the markets, on wagons--and every
crea