A Romance of Billy-Goat Hill

								

watchful eyes for passers-by, he slipped through an opening in the
fence, and entered the switch-yard. When he emerged he staggered under
the weight of a crowbar which he vainly tried to hide under his ragged
jacket.
Just at the intersection of Bean Alley and the switch-yard, where the
dusk banked up densely in the corners, he stopped again. He was watching
his chance to get across the wide common, undetected. Twice he started,
and twice he shrank back and flattened himself against the wall as some
one passed.
If, to the casual observer, Chick was but a dirty, ragged little boy,
undersized and underfed, and rather frightened, to himself at least he
was a bold desperado, about to avenge himself for a wrong committed.
Thunder muttered ominously, and a drop of rain fell on his face as he
skirted the common, and reached the big, dark saloon at the cross-roads.
Skirting the side wall, he crept to the rear, and felt for the open
window which he had discovered earlier in the day. It was a low window
and easy of access, and he lost no time in climbing in.
The passage was in utter darkness, but he felt his way along the wall
until he reached a door. Here he fumbled for the knob and opened it. A
street lamp outside threw a dim, wavering light into the room, revealing
the long bar with its shining fixtures. Chick put down his crowbar
and tremblingly removed his coat. According to the moving pictures
of criminals, that was the first move. Then he resolutely grasped his
weapon and with thumping heart approached his enemy.
It appeared a very innocent enemy as it stood there in the half light,
announcing in printed letters across its face, that seven out of every
ten persons who put a nickel in the slot, received a prize in money.
But Chick knew that it lied! Had it not eaten up his nickels week
after week? Had he not worked for it, fought for it, and bled for it,
confidently believing that the prize would be his? And there it stood
gorged with his precious nickels, mysterious and fascinating still, but
treacherous through and through!
In a blaze of wrath Chick dealt it a sounding blow with the crowbar,
then crouched in terror for what might happen. There was no sound but
the dash of rain against the windows, and the heavy rumble of thunder
overhead. Once more Chick grasped his heavy weapon and began the attack
in earnest. Blow followed blow, as fast as his small arms could swing
the crowbar. Suddenly a spring seemed to snap, and out poured a stream
of money that rolled about his feet, and off into the farthest corners
of the room.
Chick crouched on the floor, overcome by his exertions and the success
of his venture. Wealth was within his reach, more wealth than he had
ever dreamed of! Not unintelligible gold and silver, but dear, familiar
nickels, whose purchasing power he knew. But no thought of appropriation
crossed his mind as he knelt there, fingering the glittering pile. He
was carefully counting out his rightful share, the eleven nickels that