a week an' makes a work-day end when the clock
strikes, I'm willin' to call it off."

"Make him come down handsome," advised one of the loiterers.

"I guess I got 'em on the run," said Danny exultingly.

But Tim went in and failed to come out. This was not Tim's fault,
however, for the manager released his hold on his stomach long enough to
get a grip on Tim's collar. The striker's defiance seemed to displease
him, and, because he could not shake Danny, he shook Tim, and he said
things to Tim that he would have preferred to say to Danny. Then his
excited harangue was interrupted by the sound of a gong, which convinced
him that he might again venture to the door.

Danny was in the grasp of the strong arm of the law. A half dozen
policemen had valiantly rushed through the crowd and captured the entire
besieging party, which was Danny.

"What you doin'?" demanded Danny angrily.

"What are _you_ doing?" retorted the police sergeant in charge.

"This here's a strike," asserted Danny. "I got the plant picketed."

"Run him in!" ordered the manager from the doorway.

"What's the row?" asked the sergeant.

"That's the row," said the manager, pointing to Danny.

"That!" exclaimed the sergeant scornfully. "You said it was a riot. You
don't call that kid a riot, do you?"

"Well, it's assault and battery, anyhow," insisted the manager. "He hit
me with a rock."

"Where?" asked the sergeant.

"Where he carries his brains," said Danny, which made the crowd yelp
with joy again.

"Lock him up!" cried the manager angrily. "I'll prefer the charge and
appear against him."

The sergeant looked at Danny and then at the manager.

"Say!" he said at last, "you ain't got the nerve to charge this kid with
assaulting you, have you?"

"I'm going to do it," said the manager.

"Oh, all right," returned the sergeant disgustedly.

The crowd was disposed to protest, but the police were in sufficient
force to make resistance unsafe, and Danny was lifted into the
patrol-wagon.

At the station the captain happened to be present when Danny was brought
in, escorted by a wagon-load of policemen.

"What's the charge?" asked the captain.

"Assault and battery on a grown man!" was the scornful reply of the
sergeant.

"What did he do?" persisted the surprised captain.

"Hurt his digestion with a rock," explained the sergeant.

"I was on strike," said Danny. "I'm a good union man. You got no
business to touch me."

"I understand