“Search me!” replied his compatriot, wearily. “I never seen such a band as I have to deal with out in the Twentieth. Why, my God! a man can’t call his name his own any more out here. It’s got so now the newspapers tell everybody what to do.”
Alderman Pinski and Alderman Hoherkorn, conferring together in one corner, were both very dour. “I’ll tell you what, Joe,” said Pinski to his confrere; “it’s this fellow Lucas that has got the people so stirred up. I didn’t go home last night because I didn’t want those fellows to follow me down there. Me and my wife stayed down-town. But one of the boys was over here at Jake’s a little while ago, and he says there must ’a’ been five hundred people around my house at six o’clock, already. Whad ye think o’ that?”
“Same here. I don’t take much stock in this lynching idea. Still, you can’t tell. I don’t know whether the police could help us much or not. It’s a damned outrage. Cowperwood has a fair proposition. What’s the matter with them, anyhow?”
Renewed sounds of “Marching Through Georgia” from without.
Enter at this time Aldermen Ziner, Knudson, Revere, Rogers, Tiernan, and Kerrigan. Of all the aldermen perhaps Messrs. Tiernan and Kerrigan were as cool as any. Still the spectacle of streets blocked with people who carried torches and wore badges showing slip-nooses attached to a gallows was rather serious.
“I’ll tell you, Pat,” said “Smiling Mike,” as they eventually made the door through throngs of jeering citizens; “it does look a little rough. Whad ye think?”
“To hell with them!” replied Kerrigan, angry, waspish, determined. “They don’t run me or my ward. I’ll vote as I damn please.”
“Same here,” replied Tiernan, with a great show of courage. “That goes for me. But it’s putty warm, anyhow, eh?”
“Yes, it’s warm, all right,” replied Kerrigan, suspicious lest his companion in arms might be weakening, “but that’ll never make a quitter out of me.”
“Nor me, either,” replied the Smiling One.