JENNIE WINDOM’S PERIL.

While the company remained in New York, Joe and Jennie Windom, the two waifs Neka had picked up so strangely in the little town down East, stopped with some friends who lived up on the East Side near the Catherine street ferry to Brooklyn. They liked this better than a strange boarding-house, and during their stay made quite a number of friends.

Between the pair and Neka a warm friendship had sprung up, and Neka did all in his power to advance them so that they might both earn first-class salaries.

Jennie was really a pretty girl, and her beauty soon took the eye of several members of a gang of toughs who made their headquarters in the vicinity of the ferry. But as Joe was generally with her on her trips to and from the theatre, she was protected from insult at their hands. They would leer at her, but that was as far as they dared to go.

One evening, however, Joe had a call to go to Jersey City, and Jennie in consequence had to go home alone.

“You must take the cars, Jennie,” said Joe, “and don’t get off until you are right in front of the Tooleys’ house.”

Jennie promised this, and so they separated after the performance was over, and Jennie boarded the car as she had agreed and rode away.

All went well until she was within half-a-dozen blocks of her friend’s home.

Then there came a clatter on the street as a runaway wagon dashed up. A crash and a yell, and the wagon struck the front end of the car, and driver and horse were thrown down.

A crowd began to collect, and the driver was taken up and sent off in an ambulance. The horse and wagon remained, and Jennie knew it would be half an hour or more before the car would be able to proceed on its way.

“I won’t wait,” she thought. “I’ll just get out and run on.”

And leaving the car, she battled her way to the sidewalk through the crowd and hurried on through the snow and the semi-darkness.

Two blocks still remained to be passed when she went by a low-looking saloon. In front stood three young men, each with a cigar stuck up in one corner of his mouth.

“Dan, dare goes dat gal now,” whispered one tough to his companion.

“Yer right, Pete. Ain’t she a daisy, dough?”

“Bet yer freckles she is!” put in the third tough.

“Ah dere!” called out the first speaker, but Jennie only went on the faster, without turning her head.

“Say, Pete, I’ll bet yer I can walk home wid her,” remarked the tough called Dan.

“Maybe yer can,” replied Pete, sarcastically.

Jennie of course did not hear this conversation, but by instinct she felt all was not right, and almost broke into a run in her eagerness to reach the home of her friend.

Seeing this, the tough came up on a lope silently. She heard him breathe heavily and then felt his heavy hand on her shoulder.

“Say, don’t walk so fast,” said the tough, as sweetly as his liquor-soaked voice would permit. “I’ll see yer safe home.”

“Let go of me, sir!” cried Jennie, indignantly. “You have no right to touch me!”

She struggled to free herself, but he held her so tight she could not. Then she attempted to scream, but before she could make a sound he had his dirty hand over her mouth.

“Yer a spunky one,” went on the tough.

“Don’t you dare to touch me,” gasped Jennie, in terror. “Don’t! Let me go!”

Again she struggled to free herself. But the tough was strong, and she was as a little child in his burly grasp.

But now light footsteps were coming up unheard. A boyish form came into view, and the newcomer took in the situation at a glance.

Bang! Without a word the newcomer let out straight from the shoulder with his right fist. The blow took the tough behind the ear and swung him back with a groan of pain and fright.

“Let that young lady alone, you tramp!” came in the clear voice of Neka, and once again he hit the tough, this time a side blow in the nose that caused that member to bleed profusely.

The fellow staggered back to wipe his olfactory organ, and let go his hold of Jennie.

“Mr. Neka!” cried the girl, joyfully, and at once placed herself under the lad’s protection.

“Wot der yer mean by hittin’ me in ther horn?” demanded the tough, as he strode up to Neka with clinched fists.

“You say a word, and I’ll hand you over to the police,” replied Neka, sharply. “Begone about your business.”

“I’m goin’ ter settle wid you first, see? Hi, Pete, Mike, come here!” the latter to his former companions, who had followed Neka to the scene.

“Come on,” said Neka, in a low tone, and watching their chance he and Jennie started off at a swift gait.

The toughs started to follow.

“You go and I’ll keep them back,” said Neka, and he wheeled around.

“But you----” began the girl.

“I’ll come out all right. Go on, you haven’t far to go, I believe.”

“No, only to the end of the next block,” and Jennie sped away like a frightened deer.

The toughs advanced upon Neka, but came to a sudden halt when the one called Pete exclaimed:

“Hold on, fellers, don’t youse know him?”

“Naw.”

“Dat’s der chap called Neka, de Fire King!”

“He is right,” said Neka. “I am the Fire King, as they call me, and I’ll make you all sing small if you molest me,” and he flourished a stage sword that he happened to be carrying to his hotel at the time.

At this demonstration the toughs drew still further back. Then a roundsman approached, and all three promptly took to their heels.

“What’s the trouble?” asked the roundsman, as he came up, and when Neka told him he promised to see to it that Jennie Windom was not molested again.

Fearing that the girl would be anxious concerning his welfare, Neka visited the friend’s house. He found Jennie on the stoop, looking for him anxiously.

“You were not hurt?” she queried. “I am so glad. I must thank you for what you did. You are awfully brave.”

This made Neka blush. In his quiet way he thought a good deal of Jennie Windom.

The girl wished to know how it was that Neka was in the neighborhood at the same time, and Neka was forced to confess that he had come to see if she had got home safe.

“I heard from Wadsworth that you had left alone, and I was worried,” he said, “for Bindley told me this was a tough district.”

“It is, and I shall be glad when I get out of it, even though I have kind friends here,” returned Jennie.

On the way to his hotel Neka kept a sharp lookout for the three toughs and for possible rocks which might be aimed at his head. But the roundsman had done his work well, and nothing more was seen or heard of the gang while the Neka-Wadsworth Company remained in the metropolis.

“I suppose we’ll have lots of tough times on the road,” thought Neka. “But that is one of the drawbacks of the profession, and we’ll have to put up with it.”