"He's only a slum kid!" grumbled the officer. "'Tain't worth while to take
so much trouble. 'Sides, the folks won't want um botherin' 'round."

"Oh, he's all right!" said the doctor. "He's a friend worth having. You
might need one yourself some day, you know. What's your name, boy? Who
shall I tell Mikky sent the message?"

"Buck," said the child gravely, "Fightin' Buck, they calls me."

"Very appropriate name, I should think," said the doctor smiling. "Well,
run along Buck and be here at five o'clock."

Reluctantly the boy moved off. The officer again took up his stand in front
of the house and quiet was restored to the street.

Meantime, in the great house consternation reigned for a time.

The nurse maid had reached the door in time to hear the shot and see the
children fall. She barely escaped the bullet herself. She was an old
servant of the family and therefore more frightened for her charge than
for herself. She had the presence of mind to drag both children inside the
house and shut and lock the door immediately, before the seething mob could
break in.

The mistress of the house fell in a dead faint as they carried her little
laughing daughter up the stairs and a man and a maid followed with the
boy who was unconscious. The servants rushed hither and thither; the
housekeeper had the coolness to telephone the bank president what had
happened, and to send for the family physician. No one knew yet just who
was hurt or how much. Mikky had been brought inside because he blocked the