“Yis, prove that, and I’ll cut his heart out,” cried an inebriated woman, brandishing a knife a foot long.

“Yes, prove it, you thunderin’ fool!” cried Merwyn.

“The cops are comin’ now, and you want to begin a fight among ourselves.”

True enough, the cry came ringing up the avenue, “The cops comin.’”

“Oh, an’ ye’s wan uv us, oi’ll stan’ by ye; but oi’ve got me eye on ye, and ‘ud think no more o’ brainin’ ye than a puppy.”

“Try brainin’ the cops first, if yer know when yer well off,” replied Merwyn, drawing a pistol.  “I didn’t come out to fight bullies in our crowd.”

The momentary excitement caused by this altercation was swallowed up by the advent of a squad of police, which wheeled into the avenue from 43d Street, and checked the pursuit of the bleeding remnants of the invalid corps.  Those immediately around the young man pressed forward to see what took place, he following, but edging towards the sidewalk, with the eager purpose to see the first fight between the mob and the police.

CHAPTER XLII.

That worst of monsters, A mob.

After reaching the sidewalk Merwyn soon found a chance to mount a dry-goods box, that he might better observe the action of the police and form an idea of their numbers.  The moment he saw the insignificant band he felt that they were doomed men, or else the spirit abroad was not what he thought it to be, and he had been witnessing some strong indications of its ruthless nature.

It was characteristic of the young fellow that he did not rush to the aid of the police.  He was able, even in that seething flood of excitement, to reason coolly, and his thoughts were something to this effect:  “I’m not going to throw away my life and all its chances and duties because the authorities are so ignorant as to sacrifice a score or two of their men.  I shall not fight at all until I have seen Marian and Mr. Vosburgh.  When I have done something to insure their safety, or at least to prove that I am not a coward, I shall know better what to do and how to do it.  This outbreak is not an affair of a few hours.  She herself may be exposed to the fury of these fiends, for I believe her father is, or will be, a marked man.”

Seeing, farther up the avenue, a small balcony as yet unoccupied, he pushed his way towards it, that he might obtain one more view of the drift of affairs before taking his course.  The hall-door leading to the second story was open and filled with a crowd of frightened, unkempt women and children, who gave way before him.  The door of the room opening on the balcony was locked, and, in response to his repeated knockings, a quavering voice asked what was wanted.

“You must open instantly,” was his reply.

A trembling, gray-haired woman put the door ajar, and he pushed in at once, saying:  “Bolt the door again, madam.  I will do you no harm, and may be able to save you from injury;” and he was out in the balcony before his assurances were concluded.