ted into the shadows behind and under the
box-cars. Kurt crawled under a car and between the wheels, from which
vantage-point he looked out. Glidden's gang were there in the red glow,
most of them now standing. The sentry who had given the alarm still sat
on top of the flat-car, swinging his legs. His companions, however, had
jumped down. Kurt heard men of his own party crawling and whispering
behind him, and he saw dim, dark, sprawling forms under the far end of
the car.

"Boss, the hayseeds have run off," called the man from the flat car.

Laughter and jeers greeted this sally.

Kurt concluded it was about time to begin proceedings. Resting his
revolver on the side of the wheel behind which he lay, he took steady
aim at the sentry, holding low. Kurt was not a good shot with a revolver
and the distance appeared to exceed fifty yards. But as luck would have
it, when he pulled trigger the sentry let out a loud bawl of terror and
pain, and fell off the car to the ground. Flopping and crawling like a
crippled chicken, he got out of sight below.

Kurt's shot was a starter for Olsen's men. Four or five of the shot-guns
boomed at once; then the second barrels were discharged, along with a
sharper cracking of small arms. Pandemonium broke loose in Glidden's
gang. No doubt, at least, of the effectiveness of the shot-guns! A
medley of strange, sharp, enraged, and anguished cries burst upon the
air, a prelude to a wild stampede. In a few seconds that lighted spot
where the I.W.W. had grouped was vacant, and everywhere were fleeing
forms, some swift, others slow. So far as Kurt could see, no one had
been fatally injured. But many had been hurt, and that fact augured well
for Olsen's force.

Presently a shot came from some hidden enemy. It thudded into the wood
of the car over Kurt. Some one on his side answered it, and a heavy
bullet, striking iron, whined away into the darkness. Then followed
flash here and flash there, with accompanying reports and whistles of
lead. From behind and under and on top of cars opened up a fire that
proved how well armed these so-called laborers were. Their volley
completely drowned the desultory firing of Olsen's squad.

Kurt began to wish for one of the shot-guns. It was this kind of weapon
that saved Olsen's followers. There were a hundred chances to one of
missing an I.W.W. with a single bullet, while a shot-gun, aimed fairly
well, was generally productive of results. Kurt stopped wasting h