“Weary and lonely and hungry, he crept back to the old cheerless corner of Race Street pier, which was the only place he knew as home.
“There he lay with his head on his paws, not noticing anything until one of the men kicked him out of the way.
“Cheesey ran out of the pier and down Delaware Avenue, not knowing where he was going; but he went just the right way, for he ran into Officer Weigner, one of the four of us who watch this crossing.
“He spoke kindly to the little fellow, and gave him something to eat.
“From that time, Cheesey seemed to think he belonged to the policemen on this crossing. Then we gave him his name.”
III. Cheesey’s Christmas Presents
“Cheesey had no place to sleep,” went on the policeman after seeing some people safely across the street, “except on a pile of bags in the ferry house. He seemed so cold that I asked Charley, one of the workmen in the ferry, if he could not knock together some packing boxes for the little fellow.
“Charley did the best he could, but I must say he made a sorry looking dog-house.
“One day, just before Christmas while I was on duty, Mr. Sheip, of the Sheip Box Factory, happened to notice the box Charley had knocked together.
“‘Well, well,’ he said, ‘is that the best you fellows can do?’