was wavering from Consolidated Steel and the Envoy to Babe Ruth and the New York Yankees.
He edged through the mob held up at the next crossing by traffic. A steady stream of cars was passing in front of them. Though he edged skillfully through the crush of humans to the curb, carefully shielding the precious flowers from destruction, the broad back of the policeman in front of him prevented any break for freedom between the onward plunging motors.
The bluecoat had apparently forgotten that people were impatiently waiting to cross. Three minutes that seemed an eternity passed, and still the cars swept on. Speedy consulted his watch uneasily. He looked at the immense blue back in front of him. He glanced down at the little metallic whistle dangling on a leather strap from the cop's fingers. Then, with a daring born of necessity, he reached swiftly down, seized the whistle, put it to his own lips and blew lustily.
Brakes squealed and twenty automobiles stopped abruptly in their tracks. Speedy ducked around the pedestrians immediately near him and dashed swiftly across the street through the open space his strategy had won. The policeman was sputtering angrily, but he was unable to detect who had perpetrated the outrage. Speedy was half a block away.
Safe from discovery, Speedy slowed down. Again his mind wandered up to the Yankee Stadium. Perhaps Babe Ruth was coming to the bat this minute. Such a marvelous afternoon for it. Warm
