The San Francisco call., 1896-03-29


of ragamuffins pull and haul till beads
of perspiration gather on their foreheads,
and. rolling down, make creases in the
dirt from brow to chin.
"Once more everybody = nowp' is
shouted in an ascending scale, and now
the spile is landed on the sunlit ground.
Again and again the operation is repeated
on new-fallen spiles until the arabs
have realized an ordinary cord of wood.
They gather about and, as far as possible,
make an equal division, after which the
child laborers proceed to bear away their
respective shares to their homes on the
rocky hill. The arabs laugh as they
march away shouldering sticks that one
would think were burden enough for a
full grown man. The "wharf rats" do not
groan as they tug; each vies with the other
in overcoming difficulties, and failure in
an undertaking would mean the onslaught
of chatting critics.
| The wood being stored the gang take s
another tack. Under the wharf with crab
nets they go to emerge later with num-
Der of big, fat crabs. These are carried to
the base of the giant hill, where, in pro-
tected nook, the "white rats" kindIe a
A great rusty powder can is called into
requisition and committee brings up
water from the salty bay. The crabs are
dropped into the powder can, sheet of
tin is used for a cover and the "rats' sit
around ano swap stories, or timber them
selves and turn somersaults, or do some
thing else Of a diverting nature until in
vestigation proves that the crabs are suf-
ficiently boiled.
Crab after crab is fshed up; the shell
goes here, the legs there, and in few sec
onds every one of the gang is picking
| away at the crustaceous delicacy and
working his jaws as an indication of
healthy relish.
Are these street arabs gallant? On that
point you may stake your life. A little
girl poorly clad and with look of hunger
written ON her thin face, happens along.
She stops and gazes with half sigh at
the banquet in the rocky nook. Ali
there's where little hearts respond-under
the brow of Telegraph Hill. Nobody talks
about giving. But the last crab in the
powder-can is fished out of the boiling
brine and barefoot boy is running with
it to the side of the little maiden.
"Do not give me all-it is too much"
she says.
"We've got heaps more" cries the boy
and scampers back to his comrades, leav-
ing the little girl smiling through tears of
gratitude.
The "white rats think nothing of this
they would scorn to boast of such little
things. They merrily laugh and play
again, and if, perchance, their appetites
are still unappeased the bay is populated
largely with crabs and the boys under
stand how to reach them. Crabs prepared
by royal chefs and served in palaces taste
not half so good to the epicurean million
aire as these crabs, boiled in sea brine, to
the white rats" of the beach.
Not many yards removed from White
laws wharf are 20 be seen number of un-
slightly piles, known as the dumps. From
all parts of the City come the trash and
refuse that build up these hills of rubbish
and dirt. 1t is afternoon and the white
rats are busily delvingsin the black heaps
What are you seeking, my boys?"
"Spec,' is the quick reply.
'And what is spec, pray?"
"Junkr'
A kindly disposed person inquired the
name of the youth who acted as spokes-
man for the gang.
willie Shaughnessy," said the boy;
"dey dubs me 'Baldy' fer short"
"Have you ever attended school, Willie?"
"Yep."
'How long, my son?"
Eight mont's.'
"Why did you stop?"
"Fred'
"And what for p
being good.
One OF the arabs stepped up, with the
query, "Ha'in't you never heard O. Badly?
Don't read de papers, | guess. Say, he's
de geeser dat dug up all de swag on Bay
street. Say, it was hot times den"
"And what is the story about this 'swag,'
as you term it, Willie" the curious
stranger asks.
IVY, y'see," replies Badly, striking an
attitude of self-importance and throwing
his head back so as to peer straight into
the eyes of the questioner; ''y'see. l was
under de Sidewalk rafting for bones and
wat does do but hits ke'plunk against
two big sacks covered wild dirt. 1 says
Watts here?' says /. l opens one o. de
sacks, and gee-whiz-it made me head
swim Say 1t was silver dollars-bushels
O. dem. l was kid den, l was, and wat
does | do but runs over to some O. de big
blokes on de beach and shoots off me
mout' about de Doodle. Yep, and dey
truE me down. Dey swipes de two sacks.
Gr@, -