Janet McFadden answered this warning with an order to her own forces: "Now, girls, don't hurt him any more than you can help!" Willie Jones spluttered with rage, and while he was spluttering Janet murmured tersely: "Now's our time! When I count three, we'll go for him. I'll go for his arms; Rosie, you grab his legs and feet; and Margery can make for his pocket. Now! One--two--three!" Willie Jones put up a gallant fight, but what, pray, are two stout arms against six just as stout? What, say, avails two strong legs that are pressed, hugged, jammed together by a human snake who has twisted herself about them, and is sitting on their helpless feet? The violence of the contest was over in a moment, and Janet was urging: "Quick, Margery, quick! His pocket!" But when you're not trained to the business, it's fearfully hard to slip your hand deftly into some one else's pocket. Margery bungled, and Janet, impatient at her slowness, loosened slightly her own hold. On the instant, Willie Jones wrenched one arm free, dived into his pocket, and before his captors knew what he was about had pulled up the nickel and popped it into his mouth. "You villain!" cried Janet McFadden, unspeakably incensed at this fresh outrage. "You spit that nickel right out! Do you hear me?" Willie Jones made no answer. His mouth was too tightly shut to answer. Janet would have shaken him soundly, but Margery stopped her. "Be careful, Janet, be careful! If he was to swallow it I never would get it back!" Willie Jones's face lit up, and he nodded his head vigorously. For a moment Janet McFadden was silent, then she laughed. "All right; let him swallow it if he wants to! But if he does he'll turn green as grass and die of blood poison, won't he, Rosie?" "You bet he will!" Miss O'Brien called up from below. "By this time to-morrow he'll be dead! Then the patrol wagon'll come for him, and they'll carry him off to the morgue like that Dago that dropped dead on our street. You remember about him, don't you, Janet?" "Sure I do. He had earrings in his ears." The earrings seemed to be too much for Willie Jones. The look of triumph slowly faded from his face. "Go ahead, swallow it!" Janet McFadden gently urged. She waited a moment, then declared emphatically: "Well, if he won't swallow it he's got to spit it out; that's all there is about it! Here, Rosie, we're going to lay him down on his stummick, so you lift his legs up. He can't do a thing--I've got his arms." Willie Jones struggled, apparently on principle, not surely with any conviction that his struggling would avail him. In a moment Janet had him down and placed to her liking. A crowd was gathering, so there was no time to lose. "Now, then, Margery," Janet commanded, "quick! Grab his nose and hold it shut real tight! That'll make his mouth open if anything will."