“Well, suppose there are a hundred, or two hundred. They aren’t going to—to use their fists, I guess, and if they don’t how are they going—”
“I know,” said Leonard. “You’re probably dead right, Slim, but just the same I’d swap my right to that dinner for a ham sandwich. As the well-known proverb says, Slim, ‘A sandwich in the hand is worth two portions of chicken on the plate.’”
“Shut up. Here’s High street. The place is in the next block. We’ll get there in time, too.”
High street proved to be a rather narrow thoroughfare not quite so well lighted as the street they were leaving. The stores had a somewhat second-class appearance and the names on the signs and windows were frequently foreign. In brief, High street impressed one as being a street that had seen better days. The principal shopping thoroughfare lay one block south, and as the boys neared the corner of Moody street the rattle and clang of Market street’s traffic was borne to them. And as they neared that corner Leonard exclaimed: “Must be a fire or something, Slim. Look at the crowd!”
A little way beyond the corner of the cross street was a throng that stretched from side to side. Further on, jutting out above the sidewalk on the right, was a gayly illuminated sign that announced in electric lamps: “Kingman’s Restaurant.” Slim looked and slowed his steps. “Freshies,” breathed Slim. “A whole blamed army of ’em, General!”
Leonard could see for himself now that the crowd was composed of boys and knew that Slim was right. The latter drew him aside to the entrance of a shop. “Let’s consider a bit,” said Slim. “Suppose they’ve got another gang at the other side, too, eh? Must have, for there’s probably not more than fifty in that bunch there.” He peered down the street to confirm this statement. Then he laughed. “You’re lucky, after all, General,” he said. “There’s a lunch room right opposite where you can get your sandwich!”
“But what are we going to do?” asked Leonard anxiously.
“Well,” answered Slim, “I guess there’s just one thing we can do, and that’s buck the line. There doesn’t seem much chance of running the end, eh? Let’s go, General!”
They set forth again side by side, appearing as casual as they might, reached the corner, paused to let an automobile pass and approached the throng. Just then a small youth darted past them and gave the alarm shrilly:
“Staples! Staples!”