THE CRONIES


"Come along, Bill; we'll have to get there, or we won't hear the first
of it. Mr. Gray said it would begin promptly at three."

"I'm doing my best, Gus. This crutch----"

"I know. Climb aboard, old scout, and we'll go along faster." The first
speaker, a lad of fifteen, large for his age, fair-haired, though as
brown as a berry and athletic in all his easy, deliberate yet energetic
movements, turned to the one he had called Bill, a boy of about his own
age, or a little older, but altogether opposite in appearance, for he
was undersized, dark-haired, black-eyed, and though a life-long cripple
with a twisted knee, as quick and nervous in action as the limitations
of his physical strength and his ever-present crutch permitted.

In another moment, despite the protests of generous consideration for
his chum's strenuous offer, William Brown was heaved up on the broad
back of Augustus Grier and the two cronies thus progressed quite rapidly
for a full quarter of a mile through the residential section of
Fairview. Not until the pair arrived at the entrance of one of the
outlying cottages did husky Gus cease to be the beast of burden, though
he was greatly tempted to turn into a charging war horse when one of a
group of urchins on a street corner shouted:

"Look at the monkey on a mule!"

Gus cared nothing for taunts and slurs against himself, but he deeply