"I had a bottle of something -- I don't know what it
was -- something that burned--"

There was again a laugh round the court-room, stopping
suddenly as the magistrate looked up and frowned. "Have
you ever been arrested before?" he asked abruptly.

The question took Jurgis aback. "I -- I--" he
stammered.

"Tell me the truth, now!" commanded the other,
sternly.

"Yes, your Honor," said Jurgis.

"How often?"

"Only once, your Honor."

"What for?"

"For knocking down my boss, your Honor. I was
working in the stockyards, and he--"

"I see," said his Honor; "I guess that will do. You
ought to stop drinking if you can't control yourself. Ten
days and costs. Next case."

Jurgis gave vent to a cry of dismay, cut off suddenly
by the policeman, who seized him by the collar. He was
jerked out of the way, into a room with the convicted
prisoners, where he sat and wept like a child in his impo~
tent rage. It seemed monstrous to him that policemen
and judges should esteem his word as nothing in compari~
son with the bartender's; poor Jurgis could not know
that the owner of the saloon paid five dollars each week to
the policeman alone for Sunday privileges and general
favors -- nor that the pugilist bartender was one of the
most trusted henchmen of the Democratic leader of the
district, and had helped only a few months before to hustle
out a record-breaking vote as a testimonial to the magis~
trate, who had been made the target of odious kid-gloved
reformers.

Jurgis was driven out to the Bridewell for the second time.
In his tumbling around he had hurt his arm again, and so
could not work, but had to be attended by the physician.
Also his head and his eye had to be tied up -- and so he
was a pretty-looking object when, the second day after

[[297]]

p296 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p297w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p298

v?