“Yes.  But the I.W.W.’s drove all the guards off but Grimm, an’ they beat him up bad.  Nobody had nerve enough to shoot.”

“Olsen, if I run into the Glidden I’ll kill him,” declared Kurt.

“So will I....  But, Dorn, they’re a hard crowd.  They’re over there on the side, watchin’ the fire.  A gang of them!  Soon as I can get the men together we’ll drive them out of town.  There’ll be a fight, if I don’t miss my guess.”

“Hurry the men!  Have all of them get their guns!  Come on!”

“Not yet, Dorn.  We’re fightin’ fire yet.  You an’ Jerry help all you can.”

Indeed, it appeared there was danger of more than one cottage burning.  The exceedingly dry weather of the past weeks had made shingles like tinder, and wherever a glowing spark fell on them there straightway was a smoldering fire.  Water, a scarce necessity in that region, had been used until all wells and pumps became dry.  It was fortunate that most of the roofs of the little village had been constructed of galvanized iron.  Beating out blazes and glowing embers with brooms was not effective enough.  When it appeared that the one cottage nearest the rain of sparks was sure to go, Kurt thought of the railroad watertank below the station.  He led a number of men with buckets to the tank, and they soon drowned out the smoldering places.

Meanwhile the blazes from the box-cars died out, leaving only the dull glow from the red heap that had once been the elevators.  However, this gave forth light enough for any one to be seen a few rods distant.  Sparks had ceased to fall, and from that source no further danger need be apprehended.  Olsen had been going from man to man, sending those who were not armed home for guns.  So it came about that half an hour after Kurt’s arrival a score of farmers, villagers, and a few railroaders were collected in a group, listening to the pale-faced Olsen.

“Men, there’s only a few of us, an’ there’s hundreds, mebbe, in thet I.W.W. gang, but we’ve got to drive them off,” he said, doggedly.  “There’s no tellin’ what they’ll do if we let them hang around any longer.  They know we’re weak in numbers.  We’ve got to do some shootin’ to scare them away.”

Kurt seconded Olsen in ringing voice.

“They’ve threatened your homes,” he said.  “They’ve burned my wheat—­ruined me.  They were the death of my father....  These are facts I’m telling you.  We can’t wait for law or for militia.  We’ve got to meet this I.W.W. invasion.  They have taken advantage of the war situation.  They’re backed by German agents.  It’s now a question of our property.  We’ve got to fight!”

The crowd made noisy and determined response.  Most of them had small weapons; a few had shot-guns or rifles.

“Come 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.