"I hope so," he said, "and I only trust you may be right," and he turned the subject to the actual work in hand.
It so chanced that the very next day Hamilton had an opportunity of seeing, in a mild way, how truly the Inspector had spoken with regard to the alienizing of the crowds in the streets of New York. He had been working steadily several hours, and early in the afternoon he noticed a great deal of shouting in the streets. Being curious, and noticing that numbers of women were hurrying past, gesticulating violently, Hamilton followed, until almost before he was aware, the crowd grew so dense as to engulf him, and he was carried along, whether he would or no, up the street. Some of the women were crying, some shrieking, and all wore a furtive, strained expression as though in great distress.
Although there was a great deal of shouting, not a word was in a language familiar to Hamilton, and although he questioned every one around him he could find no one that understood his questions. All that he could gather was from some one in the front of the crowd who kept on crying out in English at irregular intervals:
"Our children, we want our children!"
Even if the boy had desired to break through the crowd to return to his work he could not have done so, and he really did not wish to,—he was too much interested in following the purposes of the throng. Finally the people stopped, but the boy was so far back that he could see nothing of what was going on at the head of the crowd. Being determined, however, Hamilton elbowed his way by main force and reached the woman who was still crying:
"Our children, we want our children!"
Hamilton spoke to her, but the woman paid no heed. Finally, seeing that she would not listen, he shouted at her as harshly as he could. Then she turned and tried to answer his questions.
"What's all the row about?" he asked.
"They rob us. Steal our children. Make them walk far away, never see our children any more. Oh, my Mario, oh, my Petronilla. Oh, our children, we want our children!"
Further information the boy could not get. He worked his way clear to the front of the mob and saw the police gathering on all sides. Breaking through the front rank he stepped up to the nearest policeman, who merely shifted his grip on his night stick.