on, men," called Olsen. "I'll do the talkin'. An' if I say shoot,
why, you shoot!"

It was necessary to go around the long line of box-cars. Olsen led the
way, with Kurt just back of him. The men spoke but little and in
whispers. At the left end of the line the darkness was thick enough to
make objects indistinct.

Once around the corner, Kurt plainly descried a big dark crowd of men
whose faces showed red in the glow of the huge pile of embers which was
all that remained of the elevators. They did not see Olsen's men.

"Hold on," whispered Olsen. "If we get in a fight here we'll be in a bad
place. We've nothin' to hide behind. Let's go off--more to the left--an'
come up behind those freight-cars on the switches. That'll give us cover
an' we'll have the I.W.W.'s in the light."

So he led off to the left, keeping in the shadow, and climbed between
several lines of freight-cars, all empty, and finally came out behind
the I.W.W.'s. Olsen led to within fifty yards of them, and was halted by
some observant member of the gang who sat with the others on top of a
flat-car.

This man's yell stilled the coarse talk and laughter of the gang.

"What's that?" shouted a cold, clear voice with authority in it.

Kurt thought he recognized the voice, and it caused a bursting, savage
sensation in his blood.

"Here's a bunch of farmers with guns!" yelled the man from the flat-car.

Olsen halted his force near one of the detached lines of box-cars, which
he probably meant to take advantage of in case of a fight.

"Hey, you I.W.W.'s!" he shouted, with all his might.

There was a moment's silence.

"There's no I.W.W.'s here," replied the authoritative voice.

Kurt was sure now that he recognized Glidden's voice. Excitement and
anger then gave place to deadly rage.

"Who are you?" yelled Olsen.

"We're tramps watchin' the fire," came the reply.

"You set that fire!"

"No, we didn't."

Kurt motioned Olsen to be silent, as with lifting breast he took an
involuntary step forward.

"Glidden, I know you!" he shouted, in hard, quick tones. "I'm Kurt Dorn.
I've met you. I know your voice.... Take your gang--get out of here--or
we'll kill you!"

This pregnant speech caused a blank dead silence. Then came a white
flash, a sharp report. Kurt heard the thud of a bullet striking some one
near him. The man cried out, but did not fall.

"Spread out an' hide!" ordered Olsen. "An' shoot fer keeps!"

The little crowd broke and mel