Howard R. Garis

“ They had left the well-lighted streets, and were in a dark section of the city, where only an occasional gas lamp gave a fitful gleam that illuminated a small circle, and seemed to leave the rest in denser blackness than if there had been no light.
“I'm afraid!” Jimmy said, after a while. “I want to go home!”
“All right; we'll go home after we see the animals!” said the youth, who seemed much elated over something.
“Don't want to see any animals! Want to go home!” Jimmy cried. “I want Larry! Take me to Larry!” and he began to sob. ”

“ Just you think about the steam-engine, and you'll not notice how tired you are.”
“I'm trying to,” replied Jimmy, blinking to keep back the tears.
The youth chose the darkest and least-frequented streets, and seemed anxious to escape observation, as he led Jimmy along. Once he saw a policeman standing under a gas-lamp, and, at the sight of the bluecoat, the youth darted across the street, and slunk along in the shadow, keeping Jimmy on the side farthest away from the officer, at the same time cautioning the little boy to remain quiet, and not speak. ”

“ Good for you, Peter!” and then, as the youth and Jimmy entered the room, a man, who seemed to be scrubbing his hands at a sink, looked up, and laughed. “Good enough, Peter,” he went on. “We'll see what our friend Larry Dexter has to say now. He'll sing a different tune, I guess.”
“What you doing?” asked Peter Manton, for it was the old copy boy of the Leader who had kidnapped Jimmy, and delivered him into the power of the gang.
“Trying to get rid of that blue stuff on my hands,” was the man's answer. “It sticks worse than a porous plaster. ”