men as directors. There were a
lot of green hands around--queer, hungry-looking men, who looked as if
want had driven them to desperate means. They tried to be lively and
willing, but there was an air of hang-dog diffidence about the place.

Hurstwood went back through the barns and out into a large, enclosed
lot, where were a series of tracks and loops. A half-dozen cars were
there, manned by instructors, each with a pupil at the lever. More
pupils were waiting at one of the rear doors of the barn.

In silence Hurstwood viewed this scene, and waited. His companions took
his eye for a while, though they did not interest him much more than the
cars. They were an uncomfortable-looking gang, however. One or two
were very thin and lean. Several were quite stout. Several others were
rawboned and sallow, as if they had been beaten upon by all sorts of
rough weather.

"Did you see by the paper they are going to call out the militia?"
Hurstwood heard one of them remark.

"Oh, they'll do that," returned the other. "They always do."

"Think we're liable to have much trouble?" said another, whom Hurstwood
did not see.

"Not very."

"That Scotchman that went out on the last car," put in a voice, "told me
that they hit him in the ear with a cinder."

A small, nervous laugh accompanied this.

"One of those fellows on the Fifth Avenue line must have had a hell of
a time, according to the papers," drawled another. "They broke his car
windows and pulled him off into the street 'fore the police could stop
'em."

"Yes; but there are more police around to-day," was added by another.

Hurstwood hearkened without much mental comment. These talkers seemed
scared to him. Their gabbling was feverish--things said to quiet their
own minds. He looked out into the yard and waited.

Two of the men got around quite near him, but behind his back. They were
rather social, and he listened to what they said.

"Are you a railroad man?" said one.

"Me? No. I've always worked in a paper factory."

"I had a job in Newark until last October," returned the other, with
reciprocal feeling.

There were some words which passed too low to hear. Then the
conversation became strong again.

"I don't blame these fellers for striking," said one. "They've got the
right of it, all right, but I had to get something to do."

"Same here," said the other. "If I had any job in Newark I wouldn't be
over here takin' chances like these."

"It's hell these