"Hungry?"

"Yes sir."

"All right. Come on in and we'll eat. Do you like Mulligan?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. You and me are going to get along."

Inside of the squalid shack, Jake had a cozy set-up. The filth that he
encouraged out in the junkyard was not tolerated inside his shack. The
dividing line was halfway across the edge of the door; the inside was as
clean, neat, and shining as the outside was squalid.

"You'll sleep here," said Jake, waving towards a small bedroom with a
single twin bunk. "You'll make yer own bed and take a shower every
night--or out! Understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Now, let's have chow, and I'll tell you about this spotting
business. You help me, and I'll help you. One blab and back you go to
where you came from. Get it?"

"Yes sir."

And so, while the police of a dozen cities were scouring their beats for
a homeless, frightened five-year-old, Jimmy Holden slept in a comfortable