The record-union., 1897-07-17
MAG.
Cwritten for the Record-Union by Bese

lWritten for the Record-Union by Bese-
l6na)
Sullivan's alley was known to be one
of the toughest places in the city. 1t
was narroWfa tagged court, hanked on
either side by tall rows of unpalnted
tenements. In the evening froWsy-
headed women, their sleeves rolled up TO
their elbows, leaned against the door
posts with their arms al1imbo and gos-
siped with their neighbOrs, while. dirty
children and NANCY dogs gamboled In
the street. The men assembled nightly
In the corner saloon, smoking stale To-
bacco, drinking cheap whisky and bar
tering their scant earnings away over a
pack of dog cared cards.
In one of these tenements lived Sulli-
vans Mag, as she was faniliarly called
by the inmates Of the alley. Just where
Sullivan met her no one knew. and no
one dared to ask He was a worthless
sort of fellow, the acknowledged leader
of the tough gang He i'll treated Mag,
hut no one cared to interfere; beside,
Mag was not popular; she was plainly
not one of them, and held herself aloof,
which was in itself an unpardonable Of
fense.
When her days work of selling news
ished she went straight to the miser-
able room she called home. Sullivan was
usually there awaiting her. With many
oaths he took her scanty earnings away,
and seldom allowed her to escape with
out a beating.
Oftentimes in the early hours of the
morning. when Sullivan would stumble
up the steep and narrow stairs, kick
open the door and throw himself on the
bed. there to fal into drunken slumber,
Mag would steal from her own room to
look at him, her small face transformed
with fury, her bosom rising and falling
spasmodically. Il hate youi" she would
say to herself passionately. I hate
you'll I wish you were deadi' One night
when the sense of the injustice of it all
burned within more fiercely than ever,
she seized the carving-knife which lay
upon the table. and stole toward the
bed The knife poised an instant in
tie air; slowly, slowly. her arm de-
seended; then, with a shudering moan of
horror, the knife fell from her nerveless
grasp and she fed from the house.
The only friend Mag had ever known
in all the fourteen unhappy years of
her life was Walter Allan, reporter on
the daily whose papers she sold. The
young man had watched Mag coming
and going to and from the office and had
been irresistibly attracted by the look
of patient suffering on the child's sad
face. Allan had come to the city fresh
and full of enthusiasm. His face had
been round, good-natured and boyish,
and he was much given over to ideals
and day dreams. His awakening was
speedy. The daily for which he worked
needed a criminal reporter, and to Allan
was assigned the duty of work in the
criminal courts. The ferreting out of
crime and the arrest and conviction of
criminals We're now his constant oc-
Cupation Stories of dark deeds and
crimes black and foul We're each day
reported by him, until his faith in hu-
man nature was almost shattered. He
lived in constant fear of his life, for he
knew that by his work he had incurred
the deadly enmity of the Genizens of
Sullivan's alley. He would have pro-
tested if he could from this round of
horror, but there was no escape; work
must be had; his widowed mother de-
PENDED upon him; so he smothered his
feelings, while gradually his dreams of
humanity faded away and the boyish
look left his face. For long time he
had watched Mag without speaking to
ler, then one day he met her toiling up
the steep stairs, her bundle of papers on
her arm. Impulsively he spoke to her,
and. almost before he knew it, had re-
lieved her of her bundle; at the top of
the stairs he returned them to her with
"a courteous bow. Never before had
anyone done a favor, or as much as
spoken a kind word to the little derelict
On the great ocean of life. An odd,
choking sound escaped her and a lump
aIose in her throat. She put up her
hand quickly and brushed the tears
away. Ever after that when the young
man met her he had a kind word or
smile for her; gradually the child's ma
ture responded to these advances; tim
IDLY at first, and then with more and
more freedom, she spoke to him and told
him of her life, and all unconseiously
gave him much valuable information Of
the movements of Sullivan's gang. Mag
adored him. All the pent-up affection
Of her starved little heart went out to
him. She would have esteemed it
favor to have laid down her life for
him.
All day the snow had fallen in great
white flakes. Toward night the wind
had risen till it reached the fury of
a gale 1t carried the snow along with
1t. piIing it in great drifts. On her
narrow bed Mag tossed restlessly to
and fro; she was cold and could not
sleep. vague sense of impending dis
aster which she could not understand
stole over her She started at every
sound. Presently heavy footsteps as
cended the stairs, the sound of voices
fell upon her ears. Mag huddled be-
meath the scant bed clothes and closed
her eyes. 1t was not a new thing for
Sullivan to bring members of the gang
plot on hand. The place was more
private than the saloon. Only thin
strip of cheap calico divided the room,
but the men did not heed Mag, whom
they knew to be behind the curtain.
They knew, only too well, that Sulli
van would not hesitate to kill the girl
did she dare to reveal one of their
nefarious plots.
She lay passively listening to the
sound of their voices and the howl
Of the storm outside. She partially
dozed off. when the sound of a name
attracted her. She sat up in bed, broad
awake in an instant and listened in
tently Sullivan was speaking:
we must get Walter Allan out Of
the way. d him. He has put a stop
TO every one of our plans There's
not a man in town I'd rather see dead
than him." Noiselessly Mag stole out
= ,,a,7 o,-olrpbed down on fho cold