few minutes before an intelligent expression began to appear
in the eyes of some of the boys, and one of them, who was
always ready for anything new, turned to his companion and said:

"You go and find Chi, and bring him here."

"Who is Chi?" we inquired.

"He is the boy who knows more games than any of the rest of us,"
he explained.

Away he ran and soon reappeared with a very unpromising
looking boy whom we recognized as a street waif that had been
taken into what some one called our "raggedy school" a few years
before. He was a glum looking boy--a boy without a smile. There
was a set expression on his face which might be interpreted as
"life is not worth living," or, which would be an equally
legitimate interpretation in the present instance, "these games
are of no importance. If you want them we can play any number of
them for you, but what will you do with them after you get them?"

All the crowd began at once to explain to Chi what we wanted,
and he looked more solemn than ever, then we came to his rescue.

"Chi," we asked, "what kind of games do boys play?"

Slowly and solemnly Chi wound one leg around the other as he
answered:

"Lots of them."