W.W. had started
another; at any rate, the light was growing stronger, and likewise the
danger greater. As he crossed an open space a bullet whizzed by him, and
then another zipped by to strike up the gravel ahead. These were not
random shots. Some one was aiming at him. How strange and rage-provoking
to be shot at deliberately! What a remarkable experience for a young
wheat farmer! Raising wheat in the great Northwest had assumed
responsibilities. He had to run, and he was the more furious because of
that. Another bullet, flying wide, hummed to his left before he gained
the shelter of the farthest line of freight-cars. Here he hid and
watched. The firing appeared to be all behind him, and, thus encouraged,
he stole along to the end of the line of cars, and around. A bright
blaze greeted his gaze. An isolated car was on fire. Kurt peered forth
to make sure of his bearings, and at length found the high derrick by
which he had marked the box-car that he intended to climb.

He could see plainly, and stole up to his objective point, with little
risk to himself until he climbed upon the box-car. He crouched low,
almost on hands and knees, and finally gained the long shadow of a shed
between the tracks. Then he ran past the derrick to the dark side of the
car. He could now plainly see the revolver flashes and could hear the
thud and spang of their bullets striking. Drawing a deep breath, Kurt
climbed up the iron ladder on the dark side of the car.

He had the same sensation that possessed him when he was crawling to get
a pot-shot at a flock of wild geese. Only this was mightily more
exciting. He did not forget the risk. He lay flat and crawled little by
little. Every moment he expected to be discovered. Olsen had evidently
called more of his men to his side, for they certainly were shooting
diligently. Kurt heard a continuous return fire from the car he was
risking so much to get a shot at. At length he was within a yard of the
end of the car--as far as he needed to go. He rested a moment. He was
laboring for breath, sweating freely, on fire with thrills.

His plan was to raise himself on one knee and fire as many double shots
as possible. Presently he lifted his head to locate the car. It was half
in the bright light, half in the shadow, lengthwise toward him, about
sixty or seventy yards distant, and full of men. He dropped his head,
tingling all over. It was a disappointment that the car stood so far
away. With fine sho