Suddenly the doors of the car-house were thrown open, and a car rolled
slowly out.
There was an instant of breathless silence, followed by a roar like
that of a thousand savage beasts, as the strikers saw that new men
were running the car, and that it carried half a score of policemen,
armed to the teeth.
As it approached the barricade some of the officers sprang off and
began to throw down the obstructions, the others standing ready to
fire upon the mob if necessary. The crowd showered bitter words and
taunts upon the officers, but did not venture to molest them. The
motorman stood with his hand on the lever, ready to start the car the
moment the track should be clear. Carrots, with a pack of street Arabs
at his heels, jeered at the new motorman, climbing up on the car and
taunting him, until, at last, his patience was exhausted, and he
suddenly lifted his foot and kicked one of the boys off the car. The
boy fell heavily to the ground, and instantly the shrill voice of
Carrots was uplifted, crying frantically,
"He's killed Billy Green! He's killed Billy Green! Pitch in to him,
boys! Pitch into him!"
Billy Green was already picking himself up, with no worse injury than
a cut in his cheek, but the mob took up the cry, and,
"Pitch into him! Pitch into him! Kill him! Kill him!" was shouted by
hundreds of savage voices as the crowd pressed about the car.
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