t he could not seriously injure any of the I.W.W.
contingent, but he was grimly sure of the fright and hurt he could
inflict. In his quick glance he had seen flashes of their guns, and many
red faces, and dark, huddled forms.

Kurt took four shells and set them, end up, on the roof of the car close
to him. Then, cocking the gun, he cautiously raised himself to one knee.
He discharged both barrels at once. What a boom and what a terrified
outburst of yells! Swiftly he broke the gun, reloaded, fired as before,
and then again. The last two shots were fired at the men piling
frantically over the side of the car, yelling with fear. Kurt had heard
the swishing pattering impact of those swarms of small shot. The I.W.W.
gang ran pell-mell down the open track, away from Kurt and toward the
light. As he reloaded the gun he saw men running from all points to join
the gang. With an old blunderbuss of a shot-gun he had routed the I.W.W.
It meant relief to Olsen's men; but Kurt had yet no satisfaction for the
burning of his wheat, for the cruel shock that had killed his father.

"Come on, Olsen!" he yelled, at the top of his lungs. "They're a lot of
cowards!"

Then in his wild eagerness he leaped off the car. The long jump landed
him jarringly, but he did not fall or lose hold of the gun. Recovering
his balance, he broke into a run. Kurt was fast on his feet. Not a young
man of his neighborhood nor any of his college-mates could outfoot him
in a race. And then these I.W.W. fellows ran like stiff-legged tramps,
long unused to such mode of action. And some of them were limping as
they ran. Kurt gained upon them. When he got within range he halted
short and freed two barrels. A howl followed the report. Some of the
fleeing ones fell, but were dragged up and on by companions. Kurt
reloaded and, bounding forward like a deer, yelling for Olsen, he ran
until he was within range, then stopped to shoot again. Thus he
continued until the pursued got away from the circle of light. Kurt saw
the gang break up, some running one way and some another. There were
sheds and cars and piles of lumber along the track, affording places to
hide. Kurt was halted by the discovery that he had no more ammunition.
Panting, he stopped short, realizing that he had snapped an empty gun at
men either too tired or too furious or too desperate to run any farther.

"He's out of shells!" shouted a low, hard voice that made Kurt leap. He
welcomed the rush of dark for