“You've got to obey the law like other citizens—you will not be allowed to disturb decent and respectable people. You and men like you must stop putting foolish notions in the heads of loafers in this city.”
“Then put something into our mouths—give us food. Why are we loafers?”
“Because you won't go to work. I'll give every able-bodied man here all the work he wants. Apply at the office of the Consolidated Water Company—now.”
“What's the work?” inquired a man in the crowd.
“Digging trenches for water-pipes. How many men want that work? Hold up hands.”
“It ain't work for human beings in this weather,” snarled the man who had inquired. No hands were raised.
“That's your style!” blazed the big man. The policemen had sauntered into the square and their presence was reassuring. He stood up and began to lecture them.
“And them's the kind of lord dukes that's running this country to-day—own it and run it,” growled a slouchy fellow who stood near the tall young man. “They ain't willing to give a poor man a show.”
“He has just offered you a show—all of you,” stated the young man.
“Yes, a Guinea job for white men.”