ed to himself, "I came out of that all right."

The car was turned in and he was allowed to loaf a while, but later he
was again called. This time a new team of officers was aboard. Slightly
more confident, he sped the car along the commonplace streets and felt
somewhat less fearful. On one side, however, he suffered intensely. The
day was raw, with a sprinkling of snow and a gusty wind, made all the
more intolerable by the speed of the car. His clothing was not intended
for this sort of work. He shivered, stamped his feet, and beat his arms
as he had seen other motormen do in the past, but said nothing. The
novelty and danger of the situation modified in a way his disgust and
distress at being compelled to be here, but not enough to prevent him
from feeling grim and sour. This was a dog's life, he thought. It was a
tough thing to have to come to.

The one thought that strengthened him was the insult offered by Carrie.
He was not down so low as to take all that, he thought. He could do
something--this, even--for a while. It would get better. He would save a
little.

A boy threw a clod of mud while he was thus reflecting and hit him upon
the arm. It hurt sharply and angered him more than he had been any time
since morning.

"The little cur!" he muttered.

"Hurt you?" asked one of the policemen.

"No," he answered.

At one of the corners, where the car slowed up because of a turn, an
ex-motorman, standing on the sidewalk, called to him:

"Won't you come out, pardner, and be a man? Remember we're fighting for
decent day's wages, that's all. We've got families to support." The man
seemed most peaceably inclined.

Hurstwood pretended not to see him. He kept his eyes straight on before
and opened the lever wide. The voice had something appealing in it.

All morning this went on and long into the afternoon. He made three
such trips. The dinner he had was no stay for such work and the cold was
telling on him. At each end of the line he stopped to thaw out, but
he could have groaned at the anguish of it. One of the barnmen, out of
pity, loaned him a heavy cap and a pair of sheepskin gloves, and for
once he was extremely thankful.

On the second trip of the afternoon he ran into a crowd about half
way along the line, that had blocked the car's progress with an old
telegraph pole.

"Get that thing off the track," shouted the two policemen.

"Yah, yah, yah!" yelled the crowd. "Get it off yourself."

The two police