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Dey can't do dat! I didn't do it. I wasn't dere!" Burke said nothing, but holding the man down to the pavement with a knee on his back, he whistled for the patrol wagon. The prisoners were soon arraigned, Shultberger, Jimmie the Monk and the first gangster were sent to the hospital shortly after under guard.
Quick!" "Say, I ain't done a thing, what do ye want me fer?" whined the girl, as the sergeant pulled at her sleeve. The officer did not reply, but he looked menacingly about him at the evil company. "If any of you guys starts anything I'm going to call out the reserves. Come on, Annie." The proprietor, Shultberger, now entered from the front, after a warning from his waiter. "Vot's dis, sergeant?
He had some papers in his hand, for this was what might be called a by-product of his saloon business; Shultberger was always ready for the assistance of his clients. The magistrate looked sharply at him. "Down here again, eh? I'd think those deeds and that old brick house would be worn out by this time, Shultberger, from the frequency with which you juggle it against the liberty of your friends."
He threw a flood of light on the scene of destruction. Shultberger, pulling himself up to his knees, his face and mouth gory from the catapult's stroke, moaned with agony as he clawed blindly. Patrolman White was tugging at the gangster who had been knocked unconscious by Burke's club.
But, at this rough and tumble fight, Burke used the greatest fighting projectile of the policeman; he threw the loaded night stick with unerring aim, striking Shultberger full in the face. The man screamed as he fell backward. Half a dozen policemen had surrounded the saloon by this time, and Burke fumbled around until he found the electric light switch near the cash register.
Vot you buttin' in my place for? Ain't I in right?" he cried. "Shut up. This girl has been assaulting an officer, and I want her. Come on, now, or I'll get the wagon here, and then there will be trouble." Annie began to pull back, and it looked as though some of the toughs would interfere. But Shultberger understood his business. "Now, Annie, don't start nottings here. Go on vid de officer.
In the back of the room a stout man in a fur overcoat arose. It was Shultberger. He came down the aisle. As he did so, unnoticed by Officer 4434, three of Shultberger's companions arose and quietly left the courtroom by the front entrance. "Oxcuse me, Chudge, but may I offer bail for my friend, little Jimmie?"
A whisky bottle whizzed through the air from behind the bar. Shultberger was in the battle. Burke's night stick ended the struggle with his one assailant, and he ran for the long bar, which he vaulted, as the saloon-keeper dodged backward. Another revolver shot reverberated as the proprietor retreated.
Shultberger patted her on the shoulder reassuringly. "Dot's all right, Annie. I vouldn't let nodding happen to Jimmie. I'll bail him out and you too. Go along; dot's a good girl." He turned to his guests, and motioned to them to be silent.
This struck 4434 as curious. He knew that Shultberger was the guardian angel of the neighborhood toughs in time of storm and trouble. Yet he was anxious to do his duty. "What's the trouble? Are they starting anything?" The saloon man shook his head as he started back to his café. "Oh, no. But ve all know vot a fighter you vos to-day. De papers is full mit it. Dey've got purty picture of you, too.
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