“That’s the little imp,” added the other, the two guardians of the law pouncing upon the lad as if he were a Hercules, who meant to turn upon and rend them.

“I haven’t done anything,” remonstrated Tom, feeling that some fearful mistake had been made.

“Shut up, you little thief!” yelled the policeman, whacking him on the head again with his club.  “Ah, here is the watch on him!  We’ve been looking for you, my boy, for a month, and we’ve got you at last.”

Chapter XI.

When Tom Gordon comprehended that the two policemen had arrested him on the charge of stealing a gold watch, he understood the trick played upon him by the lad who had handed him the timepiece and then, darted into the alley.

Instead of throwing the property away, as a thief generally does under such circumstances, the young scamp preferred to get a stranger into difficulty.

“I didn’t take the watch; that boy handed it”—­

“Shet up!” broke in the burly officer.

“But let me finish what I want”—­

“Shet up!  Heavens and earth! have I got to kill you before you stop that clack of yours?”

The lad saw that the only way to save his crown was to keep quiet, and he did so, trusting that in some way or other the truth would become known, the guilty punished, and the innocent allowed to go free.

One policeman grasped his right and the other his left arm, and they held on like grim death as they marched off toward the station-house.

Turning the next corner, they entered a still lower part of the city, where the darkest crimes of humanity are perpetrated.

Within ten feet of where Tom was walking, he saw under the gas-lamp a poor wretch on the pavement, with two others pounding him.

“Murder! murder!” groaned the victim, with fast-failing strength, vainly struggling to free himself from his assassins.

Tom paused, expecting the policemen, or at least one of them, would rush in and save the man.

On the contrary, they strode along as if they were unconscious of the crime going on right before their eyes.

“They’ll kill him,” said the horrified boy, “why don’t you stop”—­

“Shet up!” and down came the club again.

Just then the second policeman added in a severe tone,—­

“Young man, we know you; we understand the trick you are trying to play on us; you want us to let go of you and rush in there, and then you’ll skip; we’re too old birds to be caught with such chaff; we are convinced that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, and so, understand, sir, we’ll hold on to you!”

But at this juncture, fortunately for the under man, a champion appeared in the person of an Irishman, who with one blow knocked the largest of the assailants so violently backward that he turned a complete reverse somersault, and then lay still several minutes to try and understand things.