She watched the two boys run through the streets until they came to a dark
corner. There the little fellow caught up with the other, and once more the
struggle began. It was a hard and bloody fight. But this time the victory
was with the smaller lad, who used his fists and feet like an enraged
animal, until the other howled for mercy and handed over the disputed toy.

"Whatcher want it fer, Sam?" he blubbered as he saw it go into the little
fellow's pocket.

"Mind yer own business! I just want it," answered Sam surlily.

"Betcher I know," taunted the bigger boy.

"Betcher yer don't."

"Do!"

"Don't!"

Another fight seemed imminent. But wisdom prevailed with Sammy. He would
not challenge fate a third time. "Come on, then, and see," he grunted.

And Ike followed. Off the two trudged, through the brilliantly lighted
streets, until they came to a part of the city where the ways were narrower
and dark.

"Huh! Knowed you was comin' here," commented Ike as they turned into a
grim, dirty alley.

Little Sam growled, "Didn't!" apparently as a matter of habit.