Townsend tossed his hands contemptuously and turned his back on the photographer.
"I'll have my sixty dollars," cried Jurgens, to Matt, "or there'll be trouble."
"You'll take thirty," said Matt, taking some money from his pocket and offering it, "and not a cent more."
Jurgens struck aside the hand fiercely.
"This dago is the boy that interests me," said the officer. "He's a poor man an' can't afford to have his stock in trade ruined by that Dutch lobster."
At this, Carl fired up.
"Who you vas galling a Dutch lopsder?" he demanded, moving truculently in the direction of McMillan.
"You!" snorted the officer, dropping a hand on his club.
Carl let fly with his fist. Matt grabbed the arm just in time to counter the blow.
"That's your game is it?" growled McMillan, jerking the club from his belt. "I'll take care of you, my buck! Come along to the station with me!"