"If we don't get our stuff on the wire at once," protested a New York
man, "we'll be too late for to-morrow's paper, and----"

Captain Scott said he did not care a profanely small amount for to-
morrow's paper, and that all he knew was that to the station-house the
newspaper men would go. There they would have a hearing, and if the
magistrate chose to let them off, that was the magistrate's business,
but that his duty was to take them into custody.

"But then it will be too late, don't you understand?" shouted Mr.
Dwyer. "You've got to let us go _now,_ at once."

"I can't do it, Mr. Dwyer," said the captain, "and that's all there is
to it. Why, haven't I just sent the president of the Junior Republican
Club to the patrol-wagon, the man that put this coat on me, and do you
think I can let you fellows go after that? You were all put under
bonds to keep the peace not three days ago, and here you're at it--
fighting like badgers. It's worth my place to let one of you off."

What Mr. Dwyer said next was so uncomplimentary to the gallant Captain
Scott that that overwrought individual seized the sporting editor by
the shoulder, and shoved him into the hands of two of his men.

This was more than the distinguished Mr. Dwyer could brook, and he
excitedly raised his hand in resistance. But before he had time to do
anything foolish his wrist was gripped by one strong, little hand, and
he was conscious that another was picking the pocket of his great-
coat.

He slapped his hands to his sides, and looking down, saw Gallegher