"How about three cheers for the boys?" Morrison shouted. "What's the
matter with you down there?"
He led them off as cheer-leader. He marked the sullen groups, the
voiceless malcontents as best he was able. The Legion boys were vehemently
enthusiastic in their acclaim.
The guards marched briskly. The machine-guns clanged along the pavement,
bringing up the rear.
"That's all!" Stewart declared, when the soldiers were well on their way.
"Now you don't need any words, do you? I'll merely state that your State
House is open to the people!"
"Like blazes it is," bawled somebody.
He pointed to the open doors, his reply to that challenge.
"How about those cops?" demanded somebody else.
"Your State House is open, I tell you. If you want to go in, go ahead.
It's open for straight business, and it will stay open. There are no dark
corners for dirty tricks or lying whispers. It's your property. If there's
any whelp mean enough to damage his own property, he'll be taken care of
by a policeman. That's why they're in there. That's what you're paying
taxes for, to have policemen who'll take care of sneaks who can't be made
decent in any other way. Some other gentleman like to ask a question?"
Morrison realized that he had not won over the elements that were
determined to make trouble.
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