The Classic Humor MEGAPACK ®. Эдгар Аллан По

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      “Go in, Tim,” was the order he gave to one of his prisoners, “an’ tell the guy with the stomick-ache that when he recognizes the union an’ gives me fifty cents more a week an’ makes a work-day end when the clock strikes, I’m willin’ to call it off.”

      “Make him come down handsome,” advised one of the loiterers.

      “I guess I got ’em on the run,” said Danny exultingly.

      But Tim went in and failed to come out. This was not Tim’s fault, however, for the manager released his hold on his stomach long enough to get a grip on Tim’s collar. The striker’s defiance seemed to displease him, and, because he could not shake Danny, he shook Tim, and he said things to Tim that he would have preferred to say to Danny. Then his excited harangue was interrupted by the sound of a gong, which convinced him that he might again venture to the door.

      Danny was in the grasp of the strong arm of the law. A half dozen policemen had valiantly rushed through the crowd and captured the entire besieging party, which was Danny.

      “What you doin’?” demanded Danny angrily.

      “What are you doing?” retorted the police sergeant in charge.

      “This here’s a strike,” asserted Danny. “I got the plant picketed.”

      “Run him in!” ordered the manager from the doorway.

      “What’s the row?” asked the sergeant.

      “That’s the row,” said the manager, pointing to Danny.

      “That!” exclaimed the sergeant scornfully. “You said it was a riot. You don’t call that kid a riot, do you?”

      “Well, it’s assault and battery, anyhow,” insisted the manager. “He hit me with a rock.”

      “Where?” asked the sergeant.

      “Where he carries his brains,” said Danny, which made the crowd yelp with joy again.

      “Lock him up!” cried the manager angrily. “I’ll prefer the charge and appear against him.”

      The sergeant looked at Danny and then at the manager.

      “Say!” he said at last, “you ain’t got the nerve to charge this kid with assaulting you, have you?”

      “I’m going to do it,” said the manager.

      “Oh, all right,” returned the sergeant disgustedly.

      The crowd was disposed to protest, but the police were in sufficient force to make resistance unsafe, and Danny was lifted into the patrol-wagon.

      At the station the captain happened to be present when Danny was brought in, escorted by a wagon-load of policemen.

      “What’s the charge?” asked the captain.

      “Assault and battery on a grown man!” was the scornful reply of the sergeant.

      “What did he do?” persisted the surprised captain.

      “Hurt his digestion with a rock,” explained the sergeant.

      “I was on strike,” said Danny. “I’m a good union man. You got no business to touch me.”

      “I understand,” said the sergeant, “that he was discharged, and he stationed himself outside with a pile of rocks.”

      “You’ve no right to do that,” the captain told Danny.

      “They all do it,” asserted Danny.

      This was so near the truth that the captain thought it wise to dodge the subject.

      “Of course, if no one else will take a man’s place,” he explained, “the employer will have to take him back or—”

      “There wasn’t nobody tryin’ to take my place—not while I was there!” asserted Danny belligerently.

      “That’s no lie, either,” laughed the sergeant. “He had the office tied up tight.”

      Danny swelled with pride at this testimonial to his prowess. Then it suddenly occurred to him that the sergeant did not act as he talked.

      “What’d you butt in for, then?” he demanded.

      “It was his duty,” said the captain.

      “Ho!” exclaimed Danny. “It’s your business to protect the public, ain’t it?”

      “Of course,” admitted the captain.

      “Well, ain’t we the public?”

      The captain laughed uneasily. His experience as a policeman had left him very much in doubt as to who were the public. Both sides to a controversy always claimed that distinction, and the law-breaker was usually the louder in his claims. Danny’s inability to see anything but his own side of the case was far from unusual.

      The captain took Danny into his private office and talked to him. The captain did not wish to lock up the boy, so he sent for Danny’s father and also for the manager of the branch messenger-office. Meanwhile he tried to explain the matter to Danny, but Danny was obtuse. Why should not he do as his father and his father’s friends did? When they had a disagreement with the boss, they picketed the plant, and ensuing incidents sent many people to the hospitals. Why was it worse for one boy to do this than it was for some hundreds or thousands of men? Danny was confident that he was within his rights.

      “Dad knows,” he said in conclusion. “Dad’ll say I’m right. You got no business mixin’ in.”

      “Dad’s coming,” the captain told him.

      The manager came first. “The boy ought to be punished,” said he. “He hit me with a rock.”

      “I wish you’d seen him,” said the beaming Danny to the captain, for the recollection of that victory made all else seem trivial. “Say! he doubled up like a clown droppin’ into a barrel.”

      “If he isn’t punished,” asserted the glowering manager, “he’ll get worse and worse and end by going to the devil.”

      “Perhaps,” replied the captain. “But just stand beside him a moment, please. Don’t dodge, Danny. He’ll go behind the bars if he touches you. Stand side by side.”

      They did so.

      “Now,” said the captain to the manager, “how do you think you’ll look, standing beside him in the police court and accusing him of assault and battery?”

      “Like a fool,” replied the manager promptly, forced to laugh in spite of himself.

      “And what kind of a story—illustrated story—will it be for the papers?” persisted the captain.

      “Let him go,” said the manager; “but СКАЧАТЬ