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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 scrımble, 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 loaded into special trains and taken to Sixty- third street. At Sixty-second 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. Bat what Billlacks 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 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 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 nade 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. 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 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.