From six till ten they silted in imperceptibly from twenty
streets. As fast as the crowd grew, regiments appeared, and taking up
positions, lay at ease. There was something terrible about the quiet way
in which both crowd and troops increased. The mercury was not high, but
it promised to be a hot morning in New York. All the car lines took off
their cars. Trucks disappeared from the streets. The exchanges and the
banks closed their doors, and many hundred shops followed their example.
New York almost came to a standstill as order and anarchy faced each
other.
While these antagonistic forces still gathered, a man who had been
yelling to his own coterie of listeners in that dense crowd, extracted
himself, and limped towards Peter.
"Mr. Stirling," he shouted, "come out from those murderers. I want to
tell you something."
Peter went forward. "What is it, Podds?" he asked.
Podds dropped his voice. "We're out for blood to-day. But I don't want
yours, if you do murder my fellow-men.
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