On one occasion, when three of us were seeking the lost, making saloon to saloon, dance-hall to dance-hall visits, we went into a place where my attention was immediately drawn to a beautiful, modest-looking young lady (about seventeen years old) standing alongside of a gorgeous bar and trying to repel the advances of a pompous, sporty-looking middle-aged man. The man behind the bar was frowning and saying to her, "Here, none of those monkey-shines, miss. You tend to business. D'you hear?" Sister Kauffman and the other worker had gone into the dance-hall in the rear. Quickly stepping up to the girl, I inquired of her what he meant, what so young and modest a girl was doing there, and whether she did not desire to leave, and implored her to let me aid in rescuing her from her wretched life. Quickly she told me that she was motherless and also that she had been home from an Eastern school only about twenty-four days. "My child, what has happened that you are here?" I inquired, astonished beyond measure. Before she could reply the big blonde man tending bar said: [Illustration: THE DIVE KEEPER'S DAUGHTER] "Here you" (addressing me), "make yourself scarce. You and your kind are ---- ---- hoo-doos to our business" "Please, please go," the girl pleaded. Just at this juncture Sister Kauffman and her lady companion came through the dance hall double doors. The latter held them wide open and in her loud, penetrating voice slowly uttered these words: "What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" ... "Come, Sister Roberts." "Yes, in a minute," I replied as I motioned to them I would join them outside. "I will not leave," I said to the girl, "unless you give me some good reason for not accompanying me, seeing you express a desire to be rescued." "---- ---- ----!" shouted the man, "if you don't clear right out, I'll brain you" He held suspended in the air a full soda water bottle, one of the heaviest. The girl, pushing me away from her, said, "Go! go! He'll do it." And then she whispered: "_He's my father_." I rushed out, excitedly informed my companions, and then quickly sought a policeman, who, when I informed him, simply shrugged his shoulders and remarked: "I can't interfere. The man has a license, his daughter isn't of age, he's her legal guardian. Don't know what you can do about it; you'll have to consult higher authority than me"--a course which we proceeded to follow in the morning.