300

When it is stated that the line set out in the
foregoing order it must be borne in mind that
the word order " is not to be emphasized.
It was bad enough at first, but when the
parade had about half passed the Palmer
House someone threw a double handful of
pennies into the center of the line. There
was a chorus of whoops, a wild scramble,
and the line melted into a chaos of legs and
arms; flags were trailed in the dust, while
teachers and marshals became frantic with
desperation. When the pennies were taken
care of the parade continued to the Illinois
Central Station. Here the children were
loaded into special trains and taken to Sixty-
third street. At Sixty-second street and
Stony Island avenue is a tract of vacant
ground. Here a booth was erected for serving
the lunches and here the races, fourteen
in number, came off.

There were races for big girls ard races for
little girls, races for big boys and races for
little boys. When the race for boys 8 to 12
years was called three boys stepped forth,
among them being Bill. If Bill has any other
name he does not know it. But what Bill
lacks in appellation he makes up in self-
conceit Bill prides himself especially on his
abilities as a sprinter. He can outrun anything
on two legs, so he says, and he gave it
out cold some days ago that the first prize in
his class was as good as his then. On the way
down yesterday Bill circulated among his acquaintances,
giving them tips that if they wanted
a sure thing to put all their spare cash on
him.

Bill and his competitors lined up with right
feet advanced, fists clinched, and mouths
open. The starter began, "One----"

As he uttered the word Bill gave a bound
into the air, alighted six feet in front of the
line, dug his bare toes into the earth, and off
he went. He went down that track like a
comet with the toothache, sending up a perfect
shower of sand and gravel and chips. The
spectators yelled, and the more they yelled
the faster Bill ran. Bill passed over the finishing
line like a flash. Then he looked back.
The other two boys were still standing at the
other end of the line. It was a false start.
Bill was too exhausted to move, so he shrank
into the silence of oblivion, from whence he
had the unspeakable mortification of seeing a
little, insignificant boy who didn't look as if
he could outrun a mud turtle bear off the
prize.

The Rush for the Lunch.

About this time it was discovered that the
issuing of lunches bad begun. A wild rush
ensued that swept the ropes around the race
track, policemen, and everything else in its
way before it. A line a block in length was
formed. It was a block long at first, but in
two minutes the eagerness of those in the rear
compressed it into less than half that length.
The boys in the front of the line were flattened
out like shingles, The objective point was a
slit in the wail of a rude board shanty barely
wide enough for a boy to squeeze through. A
policeman stood on either side of the slit passing
the boys through. Nearby were a dozen
policemen gesticulating and shouting in a
vain endeavor to induce the larger portion of
the crowd to get in line. Finding they could
do nothing in this way they devoted their efforts
to gathering up every small and sickly
looking boy they could see, picking them up
bodily and planting them in the front of the
line where they would have the first chance at
the lunch. Inside the shanty was a mountain
of pasteboard boxes, around which were fifty
women. It was quick work. The boys were
hustled along so fast that before they could
grasp the situation they would emerge from
the other side of the shanty with a box of cold
victuals and a dazed look. The girls were
passed through a separate entrance.

Then came the banquet. The children ate
until they were tired. They ate until they
were in misery. After the feast the children
lined up for the lemonade, which was issued
in the same way as the lunches. Each child
was given a huge tin cupful of the nicest lemonade
made out of sure-enough lemons and
real water. Now, one cup full was enough to
satisfy the stomach of any boy, but it wouldn't
satiate the eye. Those big barrels of beverage
looked so tempting that the boys would
slip around and squeeze into line whenever
they could press into the shanty again. Supt.
Daniels is usually keen-eyed enough, but
somehow he did not seem to detect the repeaters.
He would smile on them benignantly
and the attendants would hand
out a brimming cup. The repeaters
would take a greedy swallow, look
astonished, spit, hesitate, then set down the
cup and walk out wearing a mystified look
that was touching to behold. And Supt. Daniels
would turn aside and bestow a wink upon
himself. The attendants served the repeaters
out of the barrels in which cups were
rinsed. It was perfectly delightful around
for the boys thought they were coming it over
Supt. Daniels, while Supt. Daniels knew he
was playing it low down on the boys.

They Capture the Wild West.

It was intended to form in line and march
into the Wild West show in a body. That is
to say, Supt. Daniels and some more of the older
people who have had a whole life in
which to see circuses planned it that way.
But at 12:30 o'clock the children began to
gather at the gate, though the performance
did not begin until 3 o'clock. In ten minutes
a stampede for the gate began that even the
news of the arrival of two wagonloads of ice
cream could not stem. At 12:50 the gates,
though they had been braced extra strong,
yielded before the sheer weight of numbers,
and whooping and yelling like mad the children
raced in. The only thing to do was to
guide them to the space reserved.

The din inside during the long wait was
simply deafening. Every time a man's head
was seen down near the entrance a great
shout would go up and the boys would jump
to their feet. They stamped, they clapped
their hands, they talked at the top of their,
voices, they whistled, they sang, they yelled.
They took the appearance of the Indians in
tie grand entry in comparative quiet, the
French and German soldier stirred their
blood a little and the cowboys roused them to
enthusiasm, which was increased by the appearance
of the United States cavalry. But
when Buffalo Bill galloped in they just went
wild. They rose, swung their caps and hats,
and screamed until they were exhausted.
Col. Cody smiled and waved his hat at them
and the cheers burst out louder than ever.
Every time he appeared the scene was repeated.

After the Deadwood mail had been captured
and rescued came something that does not
take place every day, Buffalo Bill was sent
for. He galloped up on his handsome charger.
Supt. Daniels stepped forward, supported on
his right by a diminutive messenger in uniform
from the Waifs' Mission and on his right a
picturesquely dirty t.rchin, with only one leg.
But a pair of sparkling brown eyes and a
keen countenance showed beneath the dirt.
The messenger was James Durgan, the one-
legged boy was John Tartuffe. Supt. Daniels
expressed the gratitude of all the boys and
girls there for the rich treat Col. Cody bad
given them, Then little Johnny balanced
himself on his crutch and, reaching up a
small box to the figure on horseback, piped:
"Here, Bill Here's somep'n from de
gang."

Bill bowed his acknowledgments and took
the "somep'n." It proved to be a red
morocco case containing a plate of solid gold,
3x6 inches, in imitation of a messenger ticket.
The obverse bore this inscription:

CHICAGO WAIFS MISSION TRAINING SCHOOL.
CHICAGO, July 27, 1893.

Where Sent... Hon. William F. Cody.
Address....Buffalo Bili's Wild West.
Paid.....And Still in Debt
Charges.....None for Life.
................................... WAIFS OF CHICAGO.
Signature of sender,
Per T. E. DANIELS,
Director-General Poor Children's Day.