get her money anyway, so she fought her way out
and started on a run for home. This was fortunate for her, for a few
minutes later the police reserves arrived.

In half an hour Marija was back, Teta Elzbieta with her, both of them
breathless with running and sick with fear. The crowd was now formed
in a line, extending for several blocks, with half a hundred policemen
keeping guard, and so there was nothing for them to do but to take their
places at the end of it. At nine o'clock the bank opened and began to
pay the waiting throng; but then, what good did that do Marija, who saw
three thousand people before her--enough to take out the last penny of a
dozen banks?

To make matters worse a drizzling rain came up, and soaked them to the
skin; yet all the morning they stood there, creeping slowly toward the
goal--all the afternoon they stood there, heartsick, seeing that the
hour of closing was coming, and that they were going to be left out.
Marija made up her mind that, come what might, she would stay there and
keep her place; but as nearly all did the same, all through the long,
cold night, she got very little closer to the bank for that. Toward
evening Jurgis came; he had heard the story from the children, and he
brought some food and dry wraps, which made it a little easier.

The next morning, before daybreak, came a bigger crowd than ever, and
more policemen from downtown. Marija held on like grim death, and toward
afternoon she got into the bank and got her money--all in big silver
dollars, a handkerchief full. When she had once got her hands on them
her fear vanished, and she wanted to put them back again; but the man
at the window was savage, and said that the bank would receive no more
deposits from those who had taken part in the run. So Marija was forced
to take her dollars home with her, watching to right and left, expecting
every instant that some one would try to rob her; and when she got home
she was not much better off. Until she could find another bank there was
nothing to do but sew them up in her clothes, and so Marija went about
for a week or more, loaded down with bullion, and afraid to cross the
street in front of the house, because Jurgis told her she would sink out
of sight in the mud. Weighted this way she made her way to the
yards, again in fear, this time to see if she had lost her place; but
fortunately about ten per cent of the working people of Packingtown had
been depositors in that bank, a