The San Francisco call., 1905-01-01

dim light of a candle. an amphibious
monster could be heard rumbling.
Timidly the claw-like hand stole out
and grasped the rusty railing, the little
feet trod softly down; there in the dim
light "a bristling. hairy man sat- nod
ding. cursing when awakened by an
unbalanCing lurch. At one: more des-
perate recovery his bTeared eyes fell
upon the child. slipping noiselessly in.
With an oath and a wavering plunge
ne had the boy. Unheeding cries fer
mercy or excuses the ready blows fell
although delivered unsteadily and at.
random upon his .wretched body.
"Oh, Ligo! There is this-there is no
more-but the 20 cents I have
brought
Pig. Brat Of the gutter!"
''Yet-but S cents more-believe-"
Peace. Son of pig!"
'Ligo! l did but buy a loaf-you
gave me no bread. 1t was the hunger.
Oh, good Idgo. have mercy"
Dog! Beast! You stay the long day
through and bring but 20 cents! You
steal my money and stuff your glutton
belly! Could you not steal the bread?
Why should you pay my money?
Have I not told you oft to steal or
starve? Brat!"
Again the blows fell relentlessly.
Mercy. 1t is the coughi l cannot
make the music when l cough! Ligo!
Oh, good Ligo Believe"
Get from my sight, scum of the
streets.''
With a final blow and an added un-
steady kick at the writhing form, which
fell short owing to the condition of the
deliverer, the man released the child.
Taking up the silver he secured a bot
tie and staggered up the stairway.
lurching away in the gloom toward
some rendezvous of crime.
The little bruised body crept to an
old mattress, lay down and between
sobs and cough-rscking paroxysms,
with cheek pressed to his beloved vio-
lin, slept the sleep of utter exhaustion.
When the night was far spent then
came Ligo staggering and stumbling
home with filled bottle. uttering inco-
herent and indiscriminate curses upon
/. the uneven sidewalk and the body Of
his unconscious slave. sleeping below.
But the derisive imps of the vine
took sudden toll, his clumsy feet tang
ling in a broken board, he fell head
long down the stairway, his bloated
face striking full upon the shattered
bottle; there the drunken coward lay
and slowly bled to death, unconscious
of his own predicament.
Early on New Years day the boy
awoke from cough-racked slumber:
taking yp his little violin he stole fear
.f1Ix oAc< hof
quietly in the clotted, crimson pool.
With the remnants of that dearly
bought loaf in his pockets he fled from
the place he had called home ever
since. as a tiny child he had been sold,
as veritable slave as ever dwelt be-
low the Mason and Dixon line.
The early morning air was raw, the
fog still held, and spread its cold gray
pail over the awakening city. There
were few abroad; a holiday gave ex-
cuse for renewed smuggling under
warm blankets, lingering at late
breakfasts, few extra maps to make
up for hours of revelry on the preced-
ing night, a petting and comforting of
aching heads and disordered stomachs.
consequent upon those same hours Of
revelry.
The lonely waif made his way to a
favorite corner, his claw-like fingers
clutched, while the little bow drew out
the lifting air of a popular melody; he
shivered, his pinched face grew gray
with suffering, as the elfin, old-young
eyes turned from face to face with call
culating intensity.
One toil-grimed hand thrust a nickel
into his palm, as its owner growled,
Here. sonny, run home to your mann
my!"