The youth chose the darkest and least-frequented streets, and seemed anxious to escape observation, as he led Jimmy along. Once he saw a policeman standing under a gas-lamp, and, at the sight of the bluecoat, the youth darted across the street, and slunk along in the shadow, keeping Jimmy on the side farthest away from the officer, at the same time cautioning the little boy to remain quiet, and not speak. Down a side street that was more gloomy and lonesome than any they had yet traversed, the youth led his captive. There was, here and there, a gas-lamp, but it seemed to make the darkness only more intense. Strange-looking figures flitted here and there out of the shadows, apparently afraid of what little light there was. Figures there were with loosely-fitting clothes, wide sleeves to the jackets, and wide trousers. On their feet were shoes with thick soles, and some of them had long braids of hair hanging down their backs. Jimmy caught sight of one, and huddled closer to the youth. “There’s a Chinaman!” the little fellow exclaimed. “I’m afraid of him!” “Sure he’s a Chinaman,” the youth agreed. “I call ’em Chinks. Nobody here calls ’em Chinamen.” “I’m afraid,” repeated Jimmy. He always had had a sort of horror of the almond-eyed Celestials. “They won’t hurt you,” the youth assured him. “This is where they live. This is Chinatown. You’ll have lots of fun. I know a Chink that’ll make you a fine kite that’ll sail away up in the air.” “Honest?” asked the little boy, his fear temporarily gone at the mention of the kite. “Sure, if you’re a good boy.” “You get the kite, and give it to me,” pleaded Jimmy. “I’m a-skeered to have a Chinaman come near me.” “All right, I will,” agreed the youth. Then in a lower tone he added. “It’s a good thing he is afraid. It will keep him from trying to escape. The house is full of Chinks, and he’ll not try to leave the room after I get him in. I’ll have an easier time than I thought I would.” They went on past several dark houses. Now and then a door would open, letting a glimmer of light out from the hall. The portal would close quickly again, and the figure that had come out would slink along as though afraid of being seen. “Here we are!” the youth exclaimed, coming to a halt in front of a three-storied building that was darker and more gloomy-looking than any they had yet passed. “Is the steam-engine here?” asked Jimmy. “Sure, come on in.” “And the kite?” “Yep. Come along, now, kid, and don’t make any noise.” Hardly able to drag one foot after another, so tired was he, Jimmy followed his captor to the stairs. Up two flights they went, until they came to the third-floor hall, then along that corridor until they reached a door that had a crude drawing of the rising sun painted upon it. The youth gave three raps, paused a second, rapped four times, and then thirteen times in quick succession. A little panel in the door opened, and a voice whispered: “Who’s there?”