"But the whole thing's so absurd," the boy said. "What do they think they're going to do,—raid the school?" He laughed.
The policeman turned on him quickly.
"'Tis absurd, as ye say, sorr," he said rebukingly "but there's many a good man been hurt with less cause than this. That crowd's growin' by thousands. Do you slip away, sorr, I'm afraid there's goin' to be trouble."
"Not much," Hamilton answered, "now I'm in this far, I'm going to stay and see the fun out."
"Well then, sorr," advised the policeman, "ye'd better slip through the school gates. Show your census badge, and the other men at the gate will let ye through."
Thanking him, Hamilton walked across the narrow stretch of road between the foremost ranks of the crowd and the little group of policemen gathered in front of the school entrance. As he did so, a bottle came whizzing at his head with deadly aim. Fortunately he had been keeping his head partly turned curiously toward the crowd, and he saw the missile in time to dodge. It missed him and went hurtling on, just passing between two policemen and smashing on the iron bars of the railing.
"You nearly got hit that time," said one of the policemen, as Hamilton showed his badge and was let through. "How did you get in with them?"
"Just doing my work," the boy answered, "and got carried right along. I was curious at first,—then when I wanted to get out I found I couldn't. I think," he added, a little nervously, for the flying jagged bottle had startled him not a little, "that's the first time I've been in front of a mob."
"I wish it was the last I'm likely to be," was the reply, "especially a crowd of women like that. Men you know what to do with."
"What do you suppose they'll do?" asked the boy. "Try to rush the school?"