f pepsin gum
from his pocket to his mouth.

"When the bloodthirsty mob of maddened citizens has closed in on the
motorman, some bringing camp stools and sitting quite close to him, and
all shouting, 'Lynch him!' Policeman Fogarty forces his way through
them to the side of their prospective victim.

"'Hello, Mike,' says the motorman in a low voice, 'nice day. Shall I
sneak off a block or so, or would you like to rescue me?'

"'Well, Jerry, if you don't mind,' says the policeman, 'I'd like to
disperse the infuriated mob singlehanded. I haven't defeated a
lynching mob since last Tuesday; and that was a small one of only 300,
that wanted to string up a Dago boy for selling wormy pears. It would
boost me some down at the station.'

"'All right, Mike,' says the motorman, 'anything to oblige. I'll turn
pale and tremble.'

"And he does so; and Policeman Fogarty draws his club and says, 'G'wan
wid yez!' and in eight seconds the desperate mob has scattered and gone
about its business, except about a hundred who remain to search for
Willie's nickel."

"I never heard of a mob in our city doing violence to a motorman
because of an accident," said the New Yorker.

"You are not liable to," said the tall man. "They know the motorman's
all right, and that he wouldn't even run over a stray dog if he could
help it. And they know that not a man among 'em would tie the knot to
hang even a Thomas cat that had been tried and condemned and sentenced
according to law."

"Then why do they become infuriated and make threats of lynching?"
asked the New Yorker.

"To assure the motorman," answered the tall man, "that he is safe. If
they really wanted to do him up they would go into the houses and drop
bricks on him from the third-story windows."

"New Yorkers are not cowards," said the other man, a little stiffly.

"Not one at a time," agreed the tall man, promptly. "You've got a fine
lot of single-handed scrappers in your town. I'd rather fight three of
you than one; and I'd go up against all the Gas Trust's victims in a
bunch before I'd pass two citizens on a dark corner, with my watch
chain showing. When you get rounded up in a bunch you lose your nerve.
Get you in crowds and you're easy. Ask the 'L' road guards and George
B. Cortelyou and the tintype booths at Coney Island. Divided you
stand, united you fall. _E pluribus nihil_. Whenever one of your mobs
surrounds a man and begins to holler, 'Lynch him!' he says to himse