face was flaming with the heat and with his vocal efforts. Perspiration
streamed into his eyes, his voice was hoarse with shouting, but he had
the natural eloquence of the demagogue. He was delivering the creed
of the propaganda of rebellious poverty, the complaints of the
dissatisfied, the demands of the idle agitators. He spiked his diatribe
with threats flavored by anarchy. He pointed to policemen who had taken
refuge in strips of shade which had been cast grudgingly by the high
buildings. He reminded his hearers that those policemen had just driven
them out of the tree-shaded parks. There the selfish rich folks were
loafing under the trees. Poor folks were herded down the street and were
forced to hold this meeting in that Gehenna, so he averred.

The man in the automobile muttered impatient words. Then he shouted,
breaking in on the impassioned anathema which the orator addressed to
the rich: "Stop lying to these men--stirring them up. The parks are for
the people. You can go there--all you men can go there--if you'll go
without making a disturbance."

"If men in these days open their mouths to speak for their human rights
it's a disturbance," retorted the demagogue. "If we go up to the park
and sit there and tremble like rabbits you rich men will let us stay
there--perhaps! But we don't have as many rights there as the rabbits,
for the rabbits are allowed to step on the grass."

"You've got to obey the law like other citizens--you will not be allowed
to disturb decent and respectable people. You and men like you must stop
putting foolish notions in the heads of loafers in this city."

"Then put something into our mouths--give us food. Why are we loafers?"