“Do you know that you are taking bread from the mouths of other workers?”
“We must put bread into our own mouths.”
At this point the police captain touched Gibbons on the shoulder.
“I can’t allow this obstruction,” he said.
“Give me two minutes,” pleaded Gibbons.
“No—nor one.”
Gibbons turned savagely upon him.
“Look here,” he said. “Have some tact and sense. Don’t you know that I have merely to raise my hand and this crowd will sweep you and your men off the face of the earth?”
“That won’t prevent me from sweeping you into prison.”
“Certainly not. But you can arrest me quietly, when you like, or I’ll meet you at the police station any hour you name, but if you attempt to interfere now, you’ll have a riot on your hands. I’m holding this crowd in check—it is not their fear of you. There’s no traffic coming through this street nor likely to come. We’re therefore obstructing nothing, and I’m as anxious as you are to keep the men within the law. Good heavens! you may have your hands full at any moment, so don’t push patient people over the line. Remember, you are not in Sartwell’s employ. I only want a few words with these men, then we’ll leave the street to you.”