CHAPTER XIX.There are many interesting cases coming to the attention of persons interested in newsboys, and they all have a tendency to awaken sympathy.Two little boys, ages nine and ten, were brought to the president one morning by an officer of the association. They were accused of fighting, “almost to a finish.”Between sobs and tears they both tried to tell why they were fighting. While telling their story, a boy about fourteen years of age entered the office. He was also crying, but more seriously. The president turned to him and sympathetically asked, “what is the matter?” With his hands rubbing his eyes he answered: “One of the newsies run out of the alley and throwed my papers into the gutter and they’re all spoiled.”“Where did the boy go?”“He runned away and left me alone.”“How many papers had you?”“I had four.”The two boys that were crying, forgot their troubles and became interested in the otherboy. Calling the two boys, the president asked them if they would run out and try to find the bad boy who threw the papers in the street. Of course they were delighted to go. Taking the crying fourteen-year-old newsboy by the hand, the little fellows left the office.After waiting an hour, and no signs of the boys returning, the president went upon the street and to his surprise saw the two little boys, who were to hunt down the villain, playing together.“Well, what was done with the boy who ruined Joe’s stock of papers; did you find them?”“You see, we went to the alley, we looked ebery place fur the kid as what threw de papers into de gutter, but he had skipped. So me an’ Skinny talked it over quickly an’ we just gave Joe eight cents an’ told him to go home, to fade away, to forget it. As de case wus settled we thought it no use ter bother you wid dis trouble, an’ we resumed our bizness.”Certainly a new way of settling troubles.There is a small boy who has the reputation of being a little boss in the territory in which he sells, owing to his desire to settle all disputes in his own way. He goes upon the idea that it isabsolutely necessary to resort to pretty severe punishment to gain a point.One evening a boy about fifteen years of age came into the office, crying as a boy only can; the tears found considerable trouble in working their way down his cheeks, making his face look as if furrows were established for a time at least. On the left side of his forehead were several clear spots, round in shape, which he pointed to with considerable feeling. The president’s sympathy was aroused, and to the question, how he was hurt, he replied:“Firetop—licked—me. He—hit—me—with—his—fist.”Firetop was not over nine years of age, and the president knew of his fighting qualities, but somehow no one ever presented any charges worthy of investigation. His name, the boys said, “came to him on account of his red hair.” His reputation for honesty was never questioned. He was simply a fighter. He was one of the most successful sellers on the street. Because he was a “pusher, he went every place, and asked every person he met to buy a paper.” While the boy was telling his story, three other membersdropped into the office. They stood for sometime looking at the poor boy.“Do you boys know Firetop?” asked the president.“Certainly, we all know him.”“Well, you go out and try to find him and tell him I want him to come here immediately.”Out the boys went and when on the sidewalk started in different directions to find Firetop. Ten minutes passed when Firetop came running into the office. The boys had found him but he was too fleet of foot for them.“Pres., they tell me you wants me, what fur?”“Look at that boy’s face,” said the president, pointing to the injured lad who began to cry in earnest.“I see it. I did it. But say, kid” turning to the boy, “what did I do it fur. Look up at me; say, what did I do it fur?”“For nothin’,” came a faint reply.“Come off, I hain’t going ’round doin’ things fur nothin’. Answer me, you kin talk, what did I do it fur?”No reply.“Didn’t I punch you fur swearing at a lady?”It was some moments before the boy answered, and he drawled out, “yes.”Firetop then told the story. The boy was selling papers on the street, he asked a lady to buy a paper, and because she refused he swore at her, using language seldom seen in print.“I heard it, an’ I told him it was against the rules, an’ if he didn’t cut it out I would punk him. What did he do but swore at me. He violated the rules before my face. I punked, gently at first, an’ then I punked him again. He ran into the alley, I followed him, an’ de boys come from the street, I told them he was my game, an’ I punked him again. I told all the boys I would punk de gang ef they came to help him. Say, pres., wasn’t I right in punking him?” The boy acknowledged he swore and Firetop kept at him until he promised he would never do it again. This was accomplished with very little trouble. The boy’s face was washed and as there was no traces of a wound the matter was amicably settled. The boys left the office, good friends.
CHAPTER XIX.There are many interesting cases coming to the attention of persons interested in newsboys, and they all have a tendency to awaken sympathy.Two little boys, ages nine and ten, were brought to the president one morning by an officer of the association. They were accused of fighting, “almost to a finish.”Between sobs and tears they both tried to tell why they were fighting. While telling their story, a boy about fourteen years of age entered the office. He was also crying, but more seriously. The president turned to him and sympathetically asked, “what is the matter?” With his hands rubbing his eyes he answered: “One of the newsies run out of the alley and throwed my papers into the gutter and they’re all spoiled.”“Where did the boy go?”“He runned away and left me alone.”“How many papers had you?”“I had four.”The two boys that were crying, forgot their troubles and became interested in the otherboy. Calling the two boys, the president asked them if they would run out and try to find the bad boy who threw the papers in the street. Of course they were delighted to go. Taking the crying fourteen-year-old newsboy by the hand, the little fellows left the office.After waiting an hour, and no signs of the boys returning, the president went upon the street and to his surprise saw the two little boys, who were to hunt down the villain, playing together.“Well, what was done with the boy who ruined Joe’s stock of papers; did you find them?”“You see, we went to the alley, we looked ebery place fur the kid as what threw de papers into de gutter, but he had skipped. So me an’ Skinny talked it over quickly an’ we just gave Joe eight cents an’ told him to go home, to fade away, to forget it. As de case wus settled we thought it no use ter bother you wid dis trouble, an’ we resumed our bizness.”Certainly a new way of settling troubles.There is a small boy who has the reputation of being a little boss in the territory in which he sells, owing to his desire to settle all disputes in his own way. He goes upon the idea that it isabsolutely necessary to resort to pretty severe punishment to gain a point.One evening a boy about fifteen years of age came into the office, crying as a boy only can; the tears found considerable trouble in working their way down his cheeks, making his face look as if furrows were established for a time at least. On the left side of his forehead were several clear spots, round in shape, which he pointed to with considerable feeling. The president’s sympathy was aroused, and to the question, how he was hurt, he replied:“Firetop—licked—me. He—hit—me—with—his—fist.”Firetop was not over nine years of age, and the president knew of his fighting qualities, but somehow no one ever presented any charges worthy of investigation. His name, the boys said, “came to him on account of his red hair.” His reputation for honesty was never questioned. He was simply a fighter. He was one of the most successful sellers on the street. Because he was a “pusher, he went every place, and asked every person he met to buy a paper.” While the boy was telling his story, three other membersdropped into the office. They stood for sometime looking at the poor boy.“Do you boys know Firetop?” asked the president.“Certainly, we all know him.”“Well, you go out and try to find him and tell him I want him to come here immediately.”Out the boys went and when on the sidewalk started in different directions to find Firetop. Ten minutes passed when Firetop came running into the office. The boys had found him but he was too fleet of foot for them.“Pres., they tell me you wants me, what fur?”“Look at that boy’s face,” said the president, pointing to the injured lad who began to cry in earnest.“I see it. I did it. But say, kid” turning to the boy, “what did I do it fur. Look up at me; say, what did I do it fur?”“For nothin’,” came a faint reply.“Come off, I hain’t going ’round doin’ things fur nothin’. Answer me, you kin talk, what did I do it fur?”No reply.“Didn’t I punch you fur swearing at a lady?”It was some moments before the boy answered, and he drawled out, “yes.”Firetop then told the story. The boy was selling papers on the street, he asked a lady to buy a paper, and because she refused he swore at her, using language seldom seen in print.“I heard it, an’ I told him it was against the rules, an’ if he didn’t cut it out I would punk him. What did he do but swore at me. He violated the rules before my face. I punked, gently at first, an’ then I punked him again. He ran into the alley, I followed him, an’ de boys come from the street, I told them he was my game, an’ I punked him again. I told all the boys I would punk de gang ef they came to help him. Say, pres., wasn’t I right in punking him?” The boy acknowledged he swore and Firetop kept at him until he promised he would never do it again. This was accomplished with very little trouble. The boy’s face was washed and as there was no traces of a wound the matter was amicably settled. The boys left the office, good friends.
There are many interesting cases coming to the attention of persons interested in newsboys, and they all have a tendency to awaken sympathy.
Two little boys, ages nine and ten, were brought to the president one morning by an officer of the association. They were accused of fighting, “almost to a finish.”
Between sobs and tears they both tried to tell why they were fighting. While telling their story, a boy about fourteen years of age entered the office. He was also crying, but more seriously. The president turned to him and sympathetically asked, “what is the matter?” With his hands rubbing his eyes he answered: “One of the newsies run out of the alley and throwed my papers into the gutter and they’re all spoiled.”
“Where did the boy go?”
“He runned away and left me alone.”
“How many papers had you?”
“I had four.”
The two boys that were crying, forgot their troubles and became interested in the otherboy. Calling the two boys, the president asked them if they would run out and try to find the bad boy who threw the papers in the street. Of course they were delighted to go. Taking the crying fourteen-year-old newsboy by the hand, the little fellows left the office.
After waiting an hour, and no signs of the boys returning, the president went upon the street and to his surprise saw the two little boys, who were to hunt down the villain, playing together.
“Well, what was done with the boy who ruined Joe’s stock of papers; did you find them?”
“You see, we went to the alley, we looked ebery place fur the kid as what threw de papers into de gutter, but he had skipped. So me an’ Skinny talked it over quickly an’ we just gave Joe eight cents an’ told him to go home, to fade away, to forget it. As de case wus settled we thought it no use ter bother you wid dis trouble, an’ we resumed our bizness.”
Certainly a new way of settling troubles.
There is a small boy who has the reputation of being a little boss in the territory in which he sells, owing to his desire to settle all disputes in his own way. He goes upon the idea that it isabsolutely necessary to resort to pretty severe punishment to gain a point.
One evening a boy about fifteen years of age came into the office, crying as a boy only can; the tears found considerable trouble in working their way down his cheeks, making his face look as if furrows were established for a time at least. On the left side of his forehead were several clear spots, round in shape, which he pointed to with considerable feeling. The president’s sympathy was aroused, and to the question, how he was hurt, he replied:
“Firetop—licked—me. He—hit—me—with—his—fist.”
Firetop was not over nine years of age, and the president knew of his fighting qualities, but somehow no one ever presented any charges worthy of investigation. His name, the boys said, “came to him on account of his red hair.” His reputation for honesty was never questioned. He was simply a fighter. He was one of the most successful sellers on the street. Because he was a “pusher, he went every place, and asked every person he met to buy a paper.” While the boy was telling his story, three other membersdropped into the office. They stood for sometime looking at the poor boy.
“Do you boys know Firetop?” asked the president.
“Certainly, we all know him.”
“Well, you go out and try to find him and tell him I want him to come here immediately.”
Out the boys went and when on the sidewalk started in different directions to find Firetop. Ten minutes passed when Firetop came running into the office. The boys had found him but he was too fleet of foot for them.
“Pres., they tell me you wants me, what fur?”
“Look at that boy’s face,” said the president, pointing to the injured lad who began to cry in earnest.
“I see it. I did it. But say, kid” turning to the boy, “what did I do it fur. Look up at me; say, what did I do it fur?”
“For nothin’,” came a faint reply.
“Come off, I hain’t going ’round doin’ things fur nothin’. Answer me, you kin talk, what did I do it fur?”
No reply.
“Didn’t I punch you fur swearing at a lady?”
It was some moments before the boy answered, and he drawled out, “yes.”
Firetop then told the story. The boy was selling papers on the street, he asked a lady to buy a paper, and because she refused he swore at her, using language seldom seen in print.
“I heard it, an’ I told him it was against the rules, an’ if he didn’t cut it out I would punk him. What did he do but swore at me. He violated the rules before my face. I punked, gently at first, an’ then I punked him again. He ran into the alley, I followed him, an’ de boys come from the street, I told them he was my game, an’ I punked him again. I told all the boys I would punk de gang ef they came to help him. Say, pres., wasn’t I right in punking him?” The boy acknowledged he swore and Firetop kept at him until he promised he would never do it again. This was accomplished with very little trouble. The boy’s face was washed and as there was no traces of a wound the matter was amicably settled. The boys left the office, good friends.