Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 209, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 31 August 1912 — The Newsboy Cripple [ARTICLE]

The Newsboy Cripple

Theodore Roosevelt and his new party are losing ground. The people are not clamoring for a new party and are not “forsaking all others” and flocking to his standard as he had Sloped. And some of the few who were led astray, in vain hopes of political advancement, or really believing that the new party might work for the good of American politics, after giving the subject a sober second thought are dropping back into the ranks of the old (established) parties. Many of the delegates to the Chicago eonvention assembled there, instructed to support Teddy and energetically worked to achieve his nomination Failing in this they were true to principles of the republican party, ready and willing to back up the man. who secured the nomination and fight just as hard for his election. But Teddy Was loth to retire from the limelight so made the grandstand play of taking the lead and carrying a long-suf-fering humanity out of political bondage. Had he lived in ages past when the world was in superstitious darkness Teddy might have convinced the people of his divine right to rule, but Be is having a difficult task making an enlightened people of the twentieth century believe that he,'or any other one man, can give the people a better system of government than that which we now have—the voice of the people, the result of years of study and the concentrated harmonious efforts of those who have represented the people since the birth of this nation. V* • . & . . , .. i v- i .1... ■’ . —ii. ■■ Railroads have received notice from fte department of agriculture at 'Washington that crops have been damaged in the southern state, during the last month by the army worm to the extent of $8,000,000. Corn, cotton, sugar cane and rice have suffered.

“Cheese it, fellers, cheese it! The cop!” There was a scurrying of feet and a confusion of grimy hands .in the struggle to recover the dice and pennies scattered within the snug circle of excited newsboys gathered far up D lane enjoying, apparently heedless of consequences, a midday game of much-forbidden “crap.” In the wild scramble to save their "gambling implements” and nevertheless escape the bluecoated official striding upon them, nobody thought of poor Billy. But, with his papers under one arm, his crutch resting beneath the other and an empty trousers leg dangling in the breeze, Billy, with his companions, sought selfpreservation. D lane, for the surefooted was none too good walking, and a treacherous spot found Billy in his misfortune and brought him heavily to the ground, his papers in an untidy pile beside him and the crutch quite beyond his reach. The comers of his mouth drooped ever so little as he looked up from his uncomfortable position and beheld the officer towering above him. “Well, my lad, you seem to he the one to go along with me. All the rest have made good to get out of the way. I’m mighty sorry I’ve got to take you—one of the others would have suited me better —much betten But the sergeant detailed me especially to stop this crap shooting. He says it can’t go on.” The policeman spoke not unkindly, but Billy, from his seat of earth, heard, and knew that a plea for release would be wasted. “Here’s your crutch, my boy. Come on."

“Aw, let him off, can’t yer?” Billy and the policeman wheeled about at this unexpected Interference from the rear. There, crawling from beneath an empty barrel set forth by one of the many restaurants along the lane, his face and hair generously streaked with a covering of flour taken on In his place of refuge, came a boy not much larger than Billy himself—one of the circle of former “crap shooters." “I say, Billy ain’t done nothin’. He warn’t shootln’ with the bunch. The last I see of Billy he was settin’ there eatln’ his handout. Weren’t you, Billy?" Billy nodded complacently. “Yer plnchin’, a ’nnocent man, boss; straight goods. “Now,” the boy went on pushing his bands deep into his pockets and broadening his base, “now, I’m one of the bunch. I’ve got a pull with the gang, if I do say it myself, and if —if —you — could only let Billy off —’cause he ain’t done nothin’ anyhow—l’ll use my ’nfiooence with the crowd to stop the shootln’ —after—I —get—out—of the lockup.” For an Instant a gleam of merriment beamed In the officer's eyes, and it was with difficulty that he restrained a burst of genuine laughter. "But I can’t do that for you; I can’t let either of you off,’’ he said, at last. “You know right from wrong and—ah, here comes the sergeant — we’ll let him settle it.’’ Billy shrank closer to his champion as he felt his own tiny atom of self completely overshadowed by this formidable giant with shining buttons and chevrons. The contact lent the intercessor strength for a final appeal. “Sergeant, can I speak to you for Billy? I don’t mind for myself, but Billy just can’t go to the lockup.” Nervously the child’s fingers locked and interlocked, but his gaze met that of the stalwart officer of the law unflinchingly. Breathlessly, he rushed on. “Billy’s mother is home sick in bed. She’s what you call an invalid. Sametimes she can work and help out and sometimes Billy’s got to do It all himself ’cause he ain’t got no brothers nor sisters, nor no father —Just his mother. So we fellers found him a good stand up in the square, but he can’t run after trade since he’s lost his leg. Some swell guy run over him with his auto and . never stopped to say howdy or good-by, and Billy’s been up against it ever since and — and—shall I tell it, Billy, 'bout slingin’ the dice?” Billy hesitated. “Shall I, Billy? It’s up to you-** Billy tried to grasp the significance of this sudden bestowal of responsibility and bowed a bewildered approval. “Well, then, 'bout this game o’ crap, sergeant.” The boy lowered his eyes and poked the dirt with the toe of his muddy boot “About this game of crap—Billy’s business hasn’t been rushing lately and so we rather planned to give him a boost with a crap game noontime, till his ma got better. Some o’ the crowd got more’n you’d think out of their papers and they have a pocketful left for themselves. So they put a good bit of it up In a game o’ crap for Billy, just to boost him along. That’s what we was doin’ today, sergeant, but we got pinched. If you could only let Billy off —if—you—■** “That will do, my boy.” The sergeant’s voice was very gentle. “You tell the rest of the boys they must never throw dice again, never. Tell them to ‘boost’ Billy some other way. Now, get your papers and hustle business.” Qood roads cannot be obtained b j