The policeman was in a communicative mood and answered our questions as freely and as frankly as they were asked. There seemed to be no secrecy about the lapses of the law. He told us of "panel saloons" not three blocks from the Auditorium, where drugged whiskey could be had for a wink--the wink of a wanton or a confederate of the house--where "greenies" were "run up against" every sort of a "skin game," sometimes ending with choking and robbery, when they would be "thrown out" on the street, too sick to protest, or too ashamed to complain. We were shown several great fronts of brick or stone, surrounding the Pullman Building, labeled "hotels," but wherein no registers are kept, as required by law, and where the only credential of respectability called for is, "Room rent in advance." Couples entered and left these "hotels" in an almost unbroken procession. But of these things and sand-bagging and burglary and other crime that is rampant in many large cities our story does not concern itself. Most of these expressions of unwholesome conditions are the result of just such neglect of children as that revealed to us by the incident of the little waif we had just seen reëngulfed by a tide of criminal suggestion, more putrid, malarious and hopeless than the ooze of the Chicago River. We were so much interested in the revelation, as it progressed, that we did not grasp the immediate situation of the child, and develop the personal sympathy the case deserved until the little fellow had gone beyond recall. But, as soon as we began to think about it in the quiet of the deserted boulevard, we were seized with a frantic desire to rescue the tiny victim of evil chance, and make it possible, at least, for him to choose between the good and the bad, a privilege boasted by our cant as the birthright of all Americans, but entirely denied to this helpless and hopeless stranger among us. The more we thought, the more the desire yearned within us, until it was a constant menace to our peace of mind. The face of the child had been but faintly visible in the frowning shadow of the great arch where we encountered him, and he had given a "fake" address. He was as unidentifiable as would be a shot escaping back into a bag of its fellows. The simile of the pellet of shot occurred to us again and again, and finally suggested a scheme of redemption to include our waif. The only way to be sure of getting the lost shot was by bagging all of the shot. The only way to rescue our waif was to furnish facilities for rescuing _all_ waifs in need of intelligent care. The idea then seemed colossal, but our focalized anxiety to save the baby was equally strong; but, how could it be accomplished? That was the important question. We told the incident of the adventure to our Chicago friends, as we met them, and wrote about it to distant friends asking for help, for encouragement, at least, that it might be done.