This is it! He's got a name, but if I tried to say it, it would cramp my
jaws and hold my mouth open so long that I'd get assifixiated with this
smoke. This is Bill the Bomber! Demeter, hold up the goods we found on
him!"
The post-adjutant obeyed the order.
"Now, Bill the Bomber," demanded Lanigan, "tell me and the bunch what's
the big idea of the arsenal, in a peaceful American city?"
"Is it peaceful?" screamed the captive, at bay. "There are soldiers
marching with guns. There are men threatening and cursing! There are--"
"Hold right on--right where you are! Are you naturalized?"
"No!"
"Well, let me tell you, you red-gilled Bullshevist, that till you're a
voting American citizen, our private and personal and strictly family rows
are none of your damn' business! All American citizens kindly applaud!"
He was answered by cheers, stamping feet, and clapping hands.
"Contrary-minded?" he invited in the silence that followed.
"Hiss a few hisses, you snakes!" he urged. "Or show those red flags you're
carrying in your pockets!"
There was no demonstration, either by act or by word.
Lanigan pushed his captive to the rear of the platform and jolted him down
into a chair behind which, on the wall, was draped a large United States
flag.
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