Once he looked back.  The gang, well spread out, was not far behind him, just coming into the light of the new fire.  No one in it could ever catch him, of that Kurt was sure.

Suddenly a powerful puff of air, like a blast of wind, seemed to lift him.  At the same instant a dazzling, blinding, yellow blaze illuminated the whole scene.  The solid earth seemed to rock under Kurt’s flying feet, and then a terrific roar appalled him.  He was thrown headlong through the air, and all about him seemed streaks and rays and bursts of fire.  He alighted to plow through the dirt until the momentum of force had been expended.  Then he lay prone, gasping and choking, almost blind, but sensitive to the rain of gravel and debris, the fearful cries of terrified men, taste of smoke and dust, and the rank smell of exploded gasoline.

Kurt got up to grope his way through the murky darkness.  He could escape now.  If that explosion had not killed his pursuers it had certainly scared them off.  He heard men running and yelling off to the left.  A rumble of a train came from below the village.  Finally Kurt got clear of the smoke, to find that he had wandered off into one of the fields opposite the station.  Here he halted to rest a little and to take cognizance of his condition.  It surprised him to find out that he was only bruised, scratched, and sore.  He had expected to find himself full of bullets.

“Whew!  They blew up the gasoline-shed!” he soliloquized.  “But some of them miscalculated, for if I don’t lose my guess there was a bunch of I.W.W. closer to that gasoline than I was....  Some adventure!...  I got another punch at Glidden.  I felt it in my bones that I’d get a crack at him.  Oh, for another!...  And that Bradford!  He did make me think.  How he slugged Glidden!  Good!  Good!  There’s your old American spirit coming out.”

Kurt sat down to rest and to listen.  He found he needed a rest.  The only sound he heard was the rumbling of a train, gradually drawing away.  A heavy smoke rose from the freight-yard, but there were no longer any blazes or patches of red fire.  Perhaps the explosion had smothered all the flames.

It had been a rather strenuous evening, he reflected.  A good deal of satisfaction lay in the fact that he had severely punished some of the I.W.W. members, if he had not done away with any of them.

When he thought of Glidden, however, he did not feel any satisfaction.  His fury was gone, but in its place was a strong judgment that such men should be made examples.  He certainly did not want to run across Glidden again, because if he did he would have blood on his hands.