he court,
fifty-two kids. There was a talk, straight talk, like that which he gave the seven. Only the Judge put more faith into it. He was going to see if they couldn’t get along out where that gang lived without any policemen. The peace of the neighbourhood was to be left to the gang, but the gang had to play fair, and give him a square deal.
“For,” said the Judge, making a personal appeal to their honour, “I have told the com- pany that I would be responsible for their having no more trouble. The company don’t trust you kids; and they say I’ll be fooled. They said you’d go back on me. But I said you wouldn’t, and I say now that you won’t. So I’m depending on you fellers; and I don’t believe you’ll throw me down. What do you say ? ”
“We’ll stay wit’ you, Jedge,”’ they shouted. And they didn’t throw the Judge down. They organized, then and there, a Kid Citizens’ League, and the League played square with the Judge.
It will be noticed that Lindsey made effective use in this case of the “gang” which the police and all prematurely old reformers seek only to “break up.” The “kids’ Jedge” never thought of breaking up such organizations. His sense is for essentials, instinctively, and there’s nothing wrong about gangs as such. They are as natural
