Under his leadership we stepped down to the bank of the stream and hid ourselves from the world under the first arch of the bridge.
The little bank between the vaulted bridge wall and the sluggishly flowing water was composed of nothing but trash,
of broken china and garbage, of twisted bundles of rusty iron wire and other rubbish.
You sometimes found there useful things. We had to search the stretch under Frank Kromer’s direction and show him what we found.
He then either kept it himself or threw it away into the water.
He bid us note whether the things were of lead, brass or tin.
Everything we found of this description he kept for himself, as well as an old horn comb.
I felt very uneasy in his company, not because I knew that father would have forbidden our playing together had he known of it,
but through fear of Frank himself. I was glad that he treated me like the others.
He commanded and we obeyed; it seemed habitual to me, although that was the first time I was with him. At last we sat down.
Frank spat into the water and looked like a full grown man; he spat through a gap in his teeth, directing the sputum in any direction he wished.
He began a conversation, and the boys vied with one another in bragging of schoolboy exploits and pranks.
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