Suddenly one of them began
to chant; and the rest took it up, half laughing, half shouting:
Rough! Tough!
We're the stuff!
We want to fight and we can't get enough!
And after that:
Hail! Hail! The gang's all here!
We're going to get the Kaiser!
The crowd joined in, and the words of the prophet were completely
drowned out. A moment later I heard a gruff voice behind me. "Make
way here!" There came a policeman, shoving through. "What's all this
about?"
The fellow with the kerosene can spoke up: "Here's this damn
Arnychist prophet been incitin' the crowd and preachin' sedition!
You better take him along, officer, and put him somewhere he'll be
safe, because me and my buddies won't stand no more Bolsheviki
rantin'."
It seemed ludicrous when I looked back upon it; though at the moment
I did not appreciate the funny side. Here was a group of men engaged
in raiding a book-store, beating up the proprietor and his clerks,
and burning a thousand dollars worth of books and magazines on the
public street; but the policeman did not see a bit of that, he had
no idea that any such thing was happening! All he saw was a prophet,
in a white nightgown dripping with kerosene, engaged in denouncing
war! He took him firmly by the arm, saying, "Come along now! I guess
we've heard enough o' this;" and he started to march Carpenter down
the street.
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