dog, but he grew. One day, feeling within his loins the strength of a lusty young giant, he arose and whipped his persecutor like David did Goliath, and fled out into the fathomless streets of New York.
That night he avoided the police and slept in a dry goods box in an alley. He awoke cold and shivering. His stomach ached with hunger. Health, youth and vigor conferred on him a monstrous desire to eat. As he sat in his alley he heard the growl of a dog. Looking up, he saw a plate full of meat scraps. The dog growled with satisfaction at his contemplated feast. Now, it seemed a strange and unjust thing to Paul that a dog should enjoy plenty, while he, a human being, had nothing. So with the instinct of the barbarian, he proceeded to dispute the dog's right to the whole of the tempting banquet. So the boy and the dog fought desperately for the food. The boy won. But even then Paul was too honest to appropriate it all. He fairly and justly divided with his late foe. So if Paul was a thief, he differed from the common kind. The banker and stockbroker steal on a large scale, for the excitement afforded in legalized robbery. The boy stole from necessity. He and the dog in silent sympathy became friends, and went out in the world together.
That night they slept in a boat, and in the morning were out at sea, their craft having been attached to a schooner. They were discovered and taken on board, where Paul was put to work. He, however, got back to New York. He never parted with the dog. They had a great time in starving together. Paul held horses, blacked boots, sold newspapers, carried satchels, and, in spite of all hardships, privations and miseries, grew up tall, muscular and of wondrous physical beauty. He
