"Well, he hain't!" said the boy in the window, with unconscious admiration. "Listen! "I heerd him thist tell 'em 'at it wasn't the first time his arm was broke. Now keep still!" and the boy in the window again bent his ear to the broken pane. "He says both his arm's be'n broke," continued the boy in the window--"says this-'un 'at's broke now's be'n broke two times 'fore this time." "Dog-gone! hain't he a funny feller!" said the milk-faced boy, with his big eyes lifted wistfully to the boy in the window. "He says onc't his pap broke his arm w'en he was whippin' him," whispered the boy in the window. "Bet his pa's a wicked man!" said the milk-faced boy, in a dreamy, speculative way--"s'pect he's a drunkard, er somepin'!" "Keep still," said the boy at the window; "they're tryin' to git him to tell his pap's name and his, and he won't do it, 'cause he says his pap comes and steals him ever' time he finds out where he is." The milk-faced boy drew a long, quavering breath and gazed suspiciously round the high board fence of the enclosure. "He says his pap used to keep a liberty-stable in Zeeny--in Ohio som'er's,--but he daresn't stay round THERE no more, 'cause he broke up there, and had to skedaddle er they'd clean him out! He says he hain't got no mother, ner no brothers, ner no sisters, ner no nothin'--on'y," the boy in the window added, with a very dry and painful swallow, "he says he hain't got nothin' on'y thist the clothes on his back!" "Yes, and I bet," broke in the milk-faced boy, abruptly, with his thin lips compressed, and his big eyes fixed on space--"yes, and I bet he kin lick Billy Kinzey, ef his arm IS broke!" At this juncture, some one inside coming to raise the window, the boy at the broken pane leaped to the ground, and, flocking at his heels, his frightened comrades bobbed one by one over the horizon of the high fence and were gone in an instant. So it was the hero of this sketch came to be known as "The Boy from Zeeny."