298

tained doughnuts and pie and hunks of dry
cake and a cluster of pickles. There were
crackers about the edges and bread in the
corners and enough in each for a farm hand.

The delivery was begun as soon as the
boys scrambled down from the trains.
Superintendent Daniels, with a frantic demeanor
and a big cane, stood guard at the
head of the line and urged the youngsters
to be circumspect and thoroughly observant
of the established code of society's dinner
laws. He wanted no jamming, no grabbing,
no yelling, no pushing, no scrapping, no hauling,
no stealing. He got all of them.

Raid on the Commissary.

Like a herd of stampeded steers the mob
swooped down on his shanty and nearly
captured the diggin's outright. They
crawled under the walls, sneaked through
the cracks and snapped their fingers in the
faces of the score of officers, who were
powerless. They guyed the law and punched
its upholders and laughed since they knew
the policemen were only a bluff. It was

(DRAWING)
THEY SAW THE WORLD'S FAIR FROM THE
OUTSIDE.

their picnic and they purposed to run it.
Superintendent Daniels looked fierce, but it
did not squelch the boys: They knew he did
not mean his threats and that murder was
the only crime which would cause their punishment.

Well, the word was given and the rush
started. In a single file the long row which
turned and returned and lapped upon itself
for a length as long as ten blocks began to
move through the place where a single
board left off made a door. On either side
of the sluiceway were busy women and
scurrying mên who doled out the dinners:
Slowly the boys walked, but they were
double-quicked by the push behind, a long
string of empty stomachs which had not seen
food since early dawn. Many pinched bodies
had not been full since the last armory feed,
and those near the tail of the procession
grew frantic. They fought and mauled and
pummeled, but always crowded. Little
chaps were squeezed out by bigger ones and
the hobbly fellows fell back at the onslaught
of the stout. Like straw from a thrasher
the line emerged from the kraal, each face
hidden deep behind some fat lump of something.
There was no shade, so down in the
sun the host flopped. Acres were soon
black with grinning faces, faces that cared
not for the blistering sun which beat down
upon them as it does on the backs of the
brown sons of the Sahara.

Each face opened and closed with the
greed and speed of a famished man and each
face's cheeks swelled out with mouthfuls
which the throat could not handle. Pickles,
pie and cake, doughnuts, crackers and bologna
went down at single gulps, while the
little fellows were as happy as veriest epicures.
One bundle did not fill some stomachs,
so the thrifty youngsters entered the
line and received second portions.

It took an hour for the procession to pass
the entrance. It took ten minutes for each
boy to swallow his rations. Then came the
lemonade. Lusty men with sugar by the
barrel and lemons by the bushel and water
by the tank worked with swift arms over
rivers of rich, fat lemonade. They stirred
the beverage with long poles and hesitated

(DRAWING)
MR. JOHNSTON STARTS THE RACES.

not on the ingredients. Nothing was spared,
since generosity had provided most lavishly.
All a boy had to do was run around
the block and get into place and the
luscious drink was his. They
again rushed through the crevasse and each
boy lifted his tin cup. He was allowed but
a second, and choking and strangling the
chaps piled out and stretched their legs
again in the sun. They were full of victuals
and drink, and in an hour life had put on all
the rosy tints of the delightful existence of
a dilettante.

Contests for Misfit Prizes.

The games were called, a great list of perspiring
sports which had entries of a score
or more contestants for each event. Judges
were selected, but so pell-mell was the excitement
and so confusing the noise nobody
could tell who won. There were prizes appropriate
and prizes ridiculous-silver cake
basket for a colored racer and a pickle dish
for a boy without pickles. A long, lean
youngster, with a face like a pirate, lugged
off a roll of music, and an urchin of dismal
countenance secured a set of silver forks.
A bath and a place to sleep would have
served him better. But the boys didn't
mind. They ran and jumped, and climbed
and drenched themselves in the heat, and
for once, at least, had a jolly good time.

Some man sounded a bugle. Like a rally-

tained doughnuts and pie and hunks of dry cake and a cluster of pickles. There were crackers about the edges and bread in the corners and enough in each for a farm hand.

The delivery was begun as soon as the boys scrambled down from the trains. Superintendent Daniels, with a frantic demeanor and a big cane, stood guard at the head of the line and urged the youngsters to be circumspect and thoroughly observant of the established code of society's dinner laws. He wanted no jamming, no grabbing, no yelling, no pushing, no scrapping, no hâul- ing, no stealing. He got all of them.

Raid on the Commissary.

Like a herd of stampeded steers the mob swooped down on his shanty and nearly captured the diggin's outright. They crawled under the walls, sneaked through the cracks and snapped their fingers in the faces of the score of officers, who were powerless. They guyed the law and punched its upholders and laughed since they knew the policemen were only a bluff. It was their picnic and they purposed to run it. Superintendent Daniels looked fierce, but it did not squelch the boys: They knew he did not mean his threats and that murder was the only crime which would cause their punishment.

Well, the word was given and the rush started. In a single file the long row which turned and returned and lapped upon itself for a length as long as ten blocks began to move through the place where a single board left off made a door. On either side of the sluiceway were busy women and scurrying mên who doled out the dinners: Slowly the boys walked, but they were double-quicked by the push behind, a long string of empty stomachs which had not seen food since early dawn. Many pinched bodies had not been full since the last armory feed, and those near the tail of the procession grew frantic. They fought and mauled and pummeled, but always crowded. Little chaps were squeezed out by bigger ones and the hobbly fellows fell back at the onslaught of the stout. Like straw from a thrasher the line emerged from the kraal, each face hidden deep behind some fat lump of something. There was no shade, so down in the sun the host flopped. Acres were soon black with grinning faces, faces that cared not for the blistering sun which beat down upon them as it does on the backs of the brown sons of the Sahara.

Each face opened and closed with the greed and speed of a famished man and each face's cheeks swelled out with mouthfuls which the throat could not handle. Pickles, pie and cake, doughnuts, crackers and bologna went down at single gulps, while the little fellows were as happy as veriest epicures. One bundle did not fill some stomachs, so the thrifty youngsters entered the line and received second portions.

It took an hour for the procession to pass the entrance. It took ten minutes for each boy to swallow his rations. Then came the lemonade. Lusty men with sugar by the barrel and lemons by the bushel and water by the tank worked with swift arms over rívers of rich, fat lemonade. They stirred the beverage with long poles and hesitated not on the ingredients. Nothing was spared, since generosity had provided most lavishly. All a boy had to do was run around the block and get into place and the luscious drink was his. They again rushed through the crevasse and each boy lifted his tin cup. He was allowed but a second, and choking and strangling the chaps piled out and stretched their legs again in the sun. They were full of victuals and drink, and in an hour life had put on all the rosy tints of the delightful existence of a dilettante.

Contests for Misfit Prizes.

The games were called, a great list of perspiring sports which had entries of a score or more contestants for each event. Judges were selected, but so pell-mell was the excitement and so confusing the noise nobody could tell who won. There were prizes appropriate and prizes ridiculous-silver cake basket for a colored racer and a pickle dish for a boy without pickles. A long, lean youngster, with a face like a pirate, lugged off a roll of music, and an urchin of dismal countenance secured a set of silver forks. A bath and a place to sleep would have served him better. But the boys didn't mind. They ran and jumped, and climbed and drenched themselves in the heat, and for once, at least, had a jolly good time.
Some man sounded a bugle. Like a rally-