And more; they would have seen Billy Barton go through the suburbs of Glenwood, Hazelwood, Rankin; through the boroughs of Braddock, of Homestead, of Duquesne, and on to McKeesport, meeting always with the same inglorious reception--day after day, week after week, asking, begging, starving. They would have seen him sleeping in deserted buildings, in fields, in box cars; by the roadsides, on the hillsides, in the woods; everywhere where man was not, save some stragglers of his own ilk. They would have seen him eventually entering saloons in the slum quarters; have seen him set upon, beaten, kicked and thrown into the streets, a poor worthless cuss, too vile, even now, for any of his former cronies to recognize, had they chanced across him. They would, as a climax to his wanderings, have seen him dragged into a town's nasty, filthy, foul, venom-infested jail, there to await the merciful order of a just and honest judge, who might, peradventure, take compassion on him; and, as a finality, have seen him sentenced to penal servitude as a vagrant. Holy of Holies! praise be to God! cry the keepers of the loaves and fishes! But for the goodness of a pure young woman, his children might have starved. And say that the male-man is a generous creature! * * * * * In the little black office of The Die, Peter sat humped up, like a drooling ape, scanning the interior of his junk shop through his peephole. He saw the cringing Eli, like a witless ass, having another set-to with a short stalky fellow because he did not give the password. He saw Eli floored, and thumped in the ribs by the man's foot. Whereat Peter gathered up his courage and went out to ascertain the wherefor of the disturbance. "Hah, Welty Morne," whispered Peter, seeing who the man was; "come in;" and he waddled rearward, leaving the defeated servant to readjust himself as to how he may. "Set down," said he to Welty, after falling down himself like a bloated lobster, and taking up his pipe, and espionage. "What? What now?" he asked. "We have heard at last from Billy Barton," said Welty. "Where'd you get that information? The wretch!" roared Peter, sardonically. "From Monroe." "And Monroe?" "From Cobb." "And Cobb?" "From the warden." "The wretch!" shouted Peter. "Let him die there! What's his time?" "Six months." "Good! We'll make it six more." "Am I to return that information?" asked Welty. "Yes," snapped Peter. "What else from Monroe?" "He has failed to rope in Winthrope." "What next?" "His new scheme is to put him as treasurer of the company." "Good! Go to it, tell him. How's the girl?" "Jarney took the young man to his home to see her, and she is recovering." Peter frowned at this, that is at that part of the information relating to taking Winthrope to the Jarney home. He rubbed his hands, pulled at his pipe vigorously, almost spat on Welty in an effort to reach a saw-dust box used as a receptacle for his expectorations.