"
"Don't try to move us a foot," screamed Podds, "or there'll be blood. We
claim the right of free meeting and free speech."
Even as he spoke, the two regiments formed, stiffened, fixed bayonets,
and moved forward, as if they were machines rather than two thousand
men.
"Brethren," yelled Podds, "the foot of the tyrant is on us. Rise. Rise
in your might." Then Podds turned to find the rigid line of bayonets
close upon him. He gave a spring, and grappled with Peter, throwing his
arms about Peter's neck. Peter caught him by the throat with his free
arm.
"Don't push me off," shrieked Podds in his ear, "it's coming," and he
clung with desperate energy to Peter.
Peter gave a twist with his arm. He felt the tight clasp relax, and the
whole figure shudder. He braced his arm for a push, intending to send
Podds flying across the street.
But suddenly there was a flash, as of lightning. Then a crash. Then the
earth shook, cobble-stones, railroad tracks, anarchists, and soldiers,
rose in the air, leaving a great chasm in crowd and street.
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