His knowledge of values quieted this fear somewhat. The junk he had bought was worth more than he had paid for it, he knew, and the yard was worth more than one hundred dollars per year. Suddenly the awful thought came to him that, although he had paid Saint Harvey cash money, he had nothing to show for it. He had no “paper,” no receipt, no lease, nothing! Not even a witness! The cold perspiration oozed from his every pore. He had been cheated! Moses Shuder, lying beside his soundly sleeping--and snoring--wife, squirmed with shame at the thought that he had been such a fool. He pulled at his beard angrily. So be it! He would find this Harvey Redding and make him give a paper. In the morning-- He suddenly sat bolt upright. “Rosa, hush!” he whispered, putting his palm under her chin and closing her mouth. “What is it, Moses? Fire? Thieves?” “Hush! Thieves,” he whispered. He slid out of bed and drew on his trousers. From the lean-to where he kept his most precious junk--his copper and his lead--came the subdued clink of metal. Stealthily Shuder glided to his back door. He glided to the door of the lean-to. “Thief! I got you!” he cried, and pounced upon Lem. “You leave me alone! You let go of me!” the boy cried. But Shuder had him fast, and scolding in Yiddish he dragged the boy from the lean-to and into the shack. Rosa lit the oil lamp. “Sure!” panted Shuder. “Young Redink! Stealing chunk! Sure!” Lem was in a panic. Fear, such as he had never experienced, cowed him. To the mind of youth the strange foreigner seems a thing to be jeered and hooted in the open day, but in the homes and churches and synagogues of the foreigners are believed to lurk strange mysteries; deep, unfathomable, blood-curdling, weird ways and doings, especially dire when wrought upon boys. Lem, in Shuder's grasp, did not see the poor shack with its grotesque furnishings rescued from purchases of offcast second-hand things. He did not see the tawdry intimate surroundings of a poor Jew struggling to wrest comfort and life from a none too friendly environment. Lem saw a perilous twilight in which might be worked strange tortures, awful incantations, black wizardry. Lem was scared stiff. “Stealink!” said Shuder bitterly. The poor man was, indeed, almost in tears. His natural anger was all but lost in a feeling of hopelessness that he would ever be able to protect his property in this land of scorn. “You should gif him by a policemans right avay,” said Rosa. “He should go to chail. Stealink at night!” “Vait!” said Shuder, upraising his free hand. “Boy, vere is your fadder?” “I don't know,” Lem whimpered. “How do I know where he is? He don't have to tell me, does he? You let me go, I tell you!” “Should you tell me vere is your fadder, I let you go,” said Shuder. “Stop viggling. I don't hurt you. Why you steal my chunk?” “I did n't steal it. I just took some.” “Why?” Shuder insisted. Lem looked up at the Jew. “I won't tell,” he said.