Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
By REX BEACH
Author of "THE SILVER HORDE" "THE SPOILERS" "THE IRON TRAIL" Etc.
Illustrated
It was a crisp November night. The artificial brilliance of Broadwaywas rivalled by a glorious moonlit sky. The first autumn frost was inthe air, and on the side-streets long rows of taxicabs were standing,their motors blanketed, their chauffeurs threshing their arms to routthe cold. A few well-bundled cabbies, perched upon old-style hansoms,were barking at the stream of hurrying pedestrians. Against abackground of lesser lights myriad points of electric signs flashedinto everchanging shapes, winking like huge, distorted eyes; fancifuldesigns of liquid fire ran up and down the walls or blazed forth inlurid colors. From the city's canons came an incessant clanging roar,as if a great river of brass and steel were grinding its way toward thesea.
Crowds began to issue from the theatres, and the lines of waitingvehicles broke up, filling the streets with the whir of machinery andthe clatter of hoofs. A horde of shrill-voiced urchins pierced theconfusion, waving their papers and screaming the football scores at thetops of their lusty lungs, while above it all rose the hoarse tones ofcarriage callers, the commands of traffic officers, and the din ofstreet-car gongs.
In the lobby of one of the playhouses a woman paused to adjust herwraps, and, hearing the cries of the newsboys, petulantly exclaimed:
"I'm absolutely sick of football. That performance during the third actwas enough to disgust one."
Her escort smiled. "Oh, you take it too seriously," he said. "Thoseboys don't mean anything. That was merely Youth—irrepressible Youth,on a tear. You wouldn't spoil the fun?"
"It may have been Youth," returned his companion, "but it sounde