A block or so distant we saw a mass of
people, and something warned me--my heart sank into my boots.
Another mob!
XLVII
There was shouting, and people running from every direction. The
throng would surge back, and a few run from it. "What's the matter?"
I cried to one of these, and the answer was, "They're cleaning out
the reds!" Comrade Abell, who knew the neighborhood, exclaimed in
dismay, "It's Erman's Book Store!"
"Who's doing this?" I asked of another bystander, and the answer
was, "The Brigade! They're cleaning up the city before the
convention!" And Comrade Abell clasped his hands to his forehead,
and wailed in despair, "It's because they've been selling the
'Liberator'! Erman told me last week he'd been warned to stop
selling it!"
Now, I don't know whether or not Carpenter had ever heard of this
radical monthly. But he knew that here was a mob, and people in
trouble, and he shook off the hands which sought to restrain him,
and pushed his way into the throng, which gave way before him,
either from respect or from curiosity.
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