The fireman they had despoiled began to drag at the hose from a safe distance; but when Kirk made as if to turn the nozzle upon him he scampered away amid the jeers of the crowd. A few moments later, the American felt a hand upon his arm and saw an angry policeman who was evidently ordering him back. Behind him stood the excited nozzleman with two companions. "He says you should return the 'ose where you found it," Allan translated. "Leave us alone," Kirk replied. "You fellows help the others; we'll attend to this." More rapid words and gesticulations followed, in the midst of which a dapper young man in a uniform somewhat more impressive than the others dashed up, flung himself upon Anthony and endeavored to wrench the hose from his hands. Meanwhile he uttered epithets in broken English which the other had no difficulty in understanding. Kirk promptly turned the nozzle upon him, and the full force of Colon's water-pressure struck him squarely in the stomach, doubling him up like the kick of a mule. Down the newcomer went, then half rolled, half slid across the street as the stream continued to play upon him. He scrambled to his feet, a sorry spectacle of waving arms and dripping garments, his cries of rage drowned in the delighted clamor of the beholders. "I guess they'll keep away now," laughed Kirk, as he turned back to his self-appointed task. But Allan exclaimed, fearfully: "Oh, boss, I fear he is some 'igh h'officer." "Never mind. We're having a lot of fun. It's medals for us--gold medals for bravery, Allan. To-morrow the board of aldermen will thank us." But this prediction seemed ill-founded. An instant later a half-dozen policemen advanced in a businesslike manner, and their leader announced: "Come! You are arrest." "Pinched! What for? We're doing a lot of good here." "Come, queeck!" "Oh, Lard, my God!" Allan mumbled. "I shall die and kill myself." "They won't do anything to us," Kirk assured him. "I've been pinched lots of times. We'll have to quit, though, and that's a pity. It was just getting good." He surrendered the hose to a fireman, who promptly retreated with it to a discreet position, then followed his captors, who were now buzzing like bees. "Don't get excited," he said to Allan, noting his frightened look. "They'll turn us loose all right." But a moment after they were clear of the town he was surprised to see that the negro's captors had snapped "come-alongs" upon him in spite of his repeated promises to go quietly. These handcuffs, Kirk saw, were of the type used upon desperate criminals, consisting of chains fitted with handles so contrived that a mere twist of the officer's hand would cut the prisoner's flesh to the bone. "You don't need to do that," he assured the fellow who had made the arrest, but, instead of heeding his words, the men on each side of the Jamaican twisted stoutly, forcing the black boy to cry out in pain. He hung back, protesting: "All right, sar, I'll come. I'll come."