ould rather have been hit by a financial panic
than by that sordid missile from Barrel Alley's most notorious hoodlum.
Inside of three days out went the Slades from John Temple's tenement,
bag and baggage.

There wasn't much baggage. A couple of broken chairs, a greasy
dining-table which Tom had used strategically in his defensive
operations against his father's assaults, a dented beer-can and a few
other dilapidated odds and ends constituted the household effects of the
unfortunate father and son.

Bill Slade, unable to cope with this unexpected disaster, disappeared on
the day of the eviction and Tom was sheltered by a kindly neighbor, Mrs.
O'Connor.

His fortunes were at the very lowest ebb and it seemed a fairly safe
prophesy that he would presently land in the Home for Wayward Boys, when
one day he met Roy Blakeley and tried to hold him up for a nickel.

Far be it from me to defend the act, but it was about the best thing
that Tom ever did so far as his own interests were concerned. Roy took
him up to his own little Camp Solitaire on the beautiful lawn of the
Blakeley home, gave him a cup of coffee, some plum duff (Silver Fox
brand, patent applied for), and passed him out some of the funniest
slang (all brand new) that poor Tom had ever heard.

That was the beginning of Tom's transformation into a scout. He fell for
scouting with a vengeance. It opened up a new world to him. To be sure,
this king of the hoodlums did not capitulate all at once--not he. He was
still wary of all "rich guys" and "sissies"; but he used to go down and
peek through a hole in the fence of Temple's lot when they were
practising their games.

Mr. Ellsworth said nothing, only winked his eye at the boys, for he saw
which way the wind was blowing. Tom Slade, king of the hoodlums, had the
scout bug and didn't know it.

Then, when the time was ripe, Mr. Ellsworth called him down into the
field one day for a try at archery. Tom scrambled down from the fence
and shuffled over to where the scouts waited with smiling, friendly
faces; but just at that moment, who should come striding through the
field but John Temple--straight for the little group.

What happened was not pleasant. John Temple denounced them all as a gang
of trespassers, ordered them out of his field and did not hesitate to
express his opinion of Tom in particular. Mr. Ellsworth then and there
championed the poor fellow and prophesied that notwithstanding his past
the scouts