I was just beginning to haul my wash water up the stairs the next morning when Snipeshooter came bolting up the stairs with Les on his tail. Setting my bucket down, I steadied myself and turned to face the two boys tugging on my skirts.

"If you pull me down the stairs, all three of us will be soaking wet and we will have to clean it up before I hear what you have to say."

"David says we might be needing you this morning," Les panted still grasping my skirt.

I raised my brows.

"Yesterday we-" Snipeshooter started.

"Let's go." Grabbing my wash water, I moved down to the main landing and set the bucket against the wall before running the rest of the way out of the building. It wasn't until we were nearing the square that I realized I not only had no supplies but I had neglected to leave a note for Kloppman.

When we entered the square all was silent. Snipeshooter and Les dashed ahead and straight into the newsies in front of the distribution center. When I went to follow them someone grabbed my arm nearly scaring me out of my skin.

"Miss, it'd be better for you to stay back." The man in the brown tweed jacket released my arm so that he could dedicate both hands to balancing a large instrument.

I looked between him and the mob of boys, then attempted to calm myself. Settling my eyes on the newsies, I asked, "What are you carrying, Mr..."

"Denton. Brian Denton. Reporter. This is a camera." Now I did look at him. I had never seen a camera up close before. "I was hoping to get a picture of the boys for an article on the strike. And what brings you rushing into this, Miss?"

"Abigail Bingham. My uncle runs the lodging house. Two of the boys told me there might be some patching up needed. Maybe everything will stay quiet."

That was when a wagon raced by. Then I heard Jack's voice shouting, "Let's soak 'em for Crutchy." With a shout the boys moved forward into the distribution center. Something was wrong. The gates weren't supposed to close while they were inside.

Then I heard it. Racetrack's voice over the noise, "Whoa Jack! Jack! It's the Crypts!" The sound from inside the center doubled.

Mr. Denton took off towards the center's gates. I could see him arguing with an officer on horseback. About to move forward myself, I felt a firm hand on my shoulder. Mrs. Collin, the butcher's wife, shook her head, "This is a time for waiting, dear."

Suddenly, a mass of unfamiliar newsies swarmed past us toward the opening gates of the center. The noises from inside changed again. The young man who had directed me to Mrs. Thomas' finished pushing the gates aside and disappeared back inside along with Denton. Mrs. Collin let me go, giving me a push toward the center, "Let me know if anyone needs serious attention." I watched her leave before running to the entrance of the distribution center to count heads.

There was a flash and Mr. Denton appeared from under a cloth draped over the back of his camera. When I looked past him, I could see my newsies half blinded by the flash, laughing and pushing each other. My eyes scanned them. Miraculously there were very few cuts and nothing serious that I could see. I decided the small assorted wounds could heal themselves and stood just watching.

Snipeshooter appeared in from of me, grinning from ear to ear. "We did it, Abbey! Spot Conlon came!" He paused for breath, "Wait 'til I tell Kloppman!"

My mind churned to a halt. I hadn't left a note. "I have to go. If anybody needs me for injuries I will be at the lodging house. I need to check on Uncle." I turned and fled.

It was nearing noon when Racetrack, Boots and Itey came in. Uncle Kloppman had arrived home from his morning walk shortly after I had gotten to work cleaning the desk and the shelves behind it while I waited for the laundry to dry. He'd told me the news of the fight and was going over his account book for the third time when the three newsies planted themselves in the lobby.

"We're off to Tibby's for lunch. Denton's supposed to bring the paper." Itey announced.

"'Fraid you'll have to count me out today, boys," my uncle said. "Little busy with some papers this morning."

"Abbey, would you like to come along?" Racetrack asked.

"I c-"

"Go along, Abigail. You've done plenty of cleaning for today," Kloppman folded up one of my rags. "I'll put your things away."

"Come on," Race held his hand out and seemed to think better of it. "If this place gets any shinier, we'll all be blinded."

"What about your lunch, Uncle?"

"I can fend for myself for one meal. Get out and enjoy yourself." He was still adding up numbers in his book while he spoke. Finally I shrugged and walked out from behind the counter trying to straighten my blouse and skirt.