From three different points, high-held night-sticks were pushing through the surging crowd; and Johnson Boller, looking quickly at the storm center, counted no less than eleven separate couples pounding one another, and smiled as he jerked Anthony bodily over the rail and hissed:
"Come on, you poor lunatic! Come on!"
"Johnson, upon my soul——" Anthony began.
"Never mind your soul! Get your body out of here before the cops find it and club it to death for starting this rumpus!" Mr. Boller cried agitatedly. "Look at that sergeant, Anthony! He's got his eye on you and he's fighting his way over here! Now, you scoot down there, kid! Move! Quick, before——"
"No! Come with us, boy!" Anthony said, somewhat disconcertingly.
"What for?" the boy inquired. "I want to watch this."
"You stay and watch it by all means!" Johnson Boller smiled quickly. "You're perfectly safe, youngster; I was only fooling. Now you come this way, Anthony, and——"
Anthony, unperturbed, laid a kindly hand on the youngster's shoulder.
"You'd better come with us, my son," said he. "They'll run you in for a witness and you may be locked up for a week unless you have friends to get you out."
This time he had startled the young man. Wide eyes turned and stared at him and there was a distinct note of fright in the voice that said: