money he wrapped in a piece of newspaper, making a careless looking package, and the silver he put in his trousers' pocket. He was beginning to think eagerly about the "loop." Were the boys there whom he had known before? Which of them had been sent to institutions and schools, and which had managed to avoid the authorities?
He followed the alleys south to the river and crossed Wells Street bridge. A clock on a corner told him that it was four o'clock; he had no reason therefore to fear truant officers or police within the "loop." The roar of uninterrupted traffic and sidewalks so crowded that he had to dodge between the legs of pedestrians filled him with delight. He went south to where the wagonmen were delivering the boys their papers and stood watching. He was not, he realized, fitly dressed for business while in the clothes which Walter Markyn had given him. He noted behind a truck in the mouth of the alley a boy absorbedly counting pennies, who was about his own size and dressed in comfortable old clothes with holes at the elbows and the
