in the way of enriching the soil at the base of the India-rubber tree—and the stream was fished dry.
Did the balcony offer other worlds for this youthful Alexander? Apparently not, for after chewing up several choice geranium blossoms and practising with his bean-shooter upon a draggled sparrow he turned to go.
The man at the trolley post frowned. Having seen two acts of a play, he objected to being cheated out of the third.
Just then, however, the little comedy was continued by two new actors. Around the corner appeared an Italian hand-organist leading by a string a minute monkey gorgeously costumed in a green skirt, scarlet jacket, and green and gold cap. As the melancholy Italian put down his instrument and began grinding out "Daisy Bell," his hairy attendant scampered across the pavement and began scrambling up the iron balconies of the tall apartment house in quest of pennies.
A yawning grin convulsed Bud's small features. Flinging his fish-line into a flower-pot, he climbed through the window and disappeared. He was gone only a few moments, but when he returned he bore himself with a new air. A large sombrero sat jauntily upon his black curls; from his left arm hung a coil of rope, while his brown right hand brandished above his head the loop of a lasso. As he stood there motionless, the hand holding the lasso poised in the air, he looked a perfect pocket edition of a Texas cowboy. The man at the trolley post would have wagered a large sum that among the thirty-five thousand small boys reported by the last census as living in Boston there wasn't another boy like Bud.
Meantime the organist had changed his tune from "Daisy Bell" to "Hold Your Head Up, Hogan," while the monkey had been making a triumphal progress up the iron balconies. His gorgeous uniform, acrobatic leaps, and hand-over-hand performances, together with his shrewd chatter and the graceful twirl with which he pocketed coppers, had attracted every child within a radius of four blocks. Pennies rained upon him like roses on a favorite prima donna, and the little fellow was put to sore straits to collect the rich shower. In Bud's absence he had traveled to the top-most balcony of the seven-story apartment house, and was now
