ence, in which the car ran smoothly along. There
were not so many houses along this part of the way. Hurstwood did not
see many people either. The situation was not wholly disagreeable to
him. If he were not so cold, he thought he would do well enough.

He was brought out of this feeling by the sudden appearance of a curve
ahead, which he had not expected. He shut off the current and did an
energetic turn at the brake, but not in time to avoid an unnaturally
quick turn. It shook him up and made him feel like making some
apologetic remarks, but he refrained.

"You want to look out for them things," said the officer on the left,
condescendingly.

"That's right," agreed Hurstwood, shamefacedly.

"There's lots of them on this line," said the officer on the right.
Around the corner a more populated way appeared. One or two pedestrians
were in view ahead. A boy coming out of a gate with a tin milk bucket
gave Hurstwood his first objectionable greeting.

"Scab!" he yelled. "Scab!"

Hurstwood heard it, but tried to make no comment, even to himself. He
knew he would get that, and much more of the same sort, probably.

At a corner farther up a man stood by the track and signalled the car to
stop.

"Never mind him," said one of the officers. "He's up to some game."

Hurstwood obeyed. At the corner he saw the wisdom of it. No sooner did
the man perceive the intention to ignore him, than he shook his fist.

"Ah, you bloody coward!" he yelled.

Some half dozen men, standing on the corner, flung taunts and jeers
after the speeding car.

Hurstwood winced the least bit. The real thing was slightly worse than
the thoughts of it had been.

Now came in sight, three or four blocks farther on, a heap of something
on the track.

"They've been at work, here, all right," said one of the policemen.

"We'll have an argument, maybe," said the other.

Hurstwood ran the car close and stopped. He had not done so wholly,
however, before a crowd gathered about. It was composed of ex-motormen
and conductors in part, with a sprinkling of friends and sympathisers.

"Come off the car, pardner," said one of the men in a voice meant to
be conciliatory. "You don't want to take the bread out of another man's
mouth, do you?"

Hurstwood held to his brake and lever, pale and very uncertain what to
do.

"Stand back," yelled one of the officers, leaning over the platform
railing. "Clear out of this, now. Give the man a chance to do his work.