Idleness, however, and the sight of the company, backed by the police, triumphing, angered the men.  They saw that each day more cars were going on, each day more declarations were being made by the company officials that the effective opposition of the strikers was broken.  This put desperate thoughts in the minds of the men.  Peaceful methods meant, they saw, that the companies would soon run all their cars and those who had complained would be forgotten.  There was nothing so helpful to the companies as peaceful methods.  All at once they blazed forth, and for a week there was storm and stress.  Cars were assailed, men attacked, policemen struggled with, tracks torn up, and shots fired, until at last street fights and mob movements became frequent, and the city was invested with militia.

Hurstwood knew nothing of the change of temper.

“Run your car out,” called the foreman, waving a vigorous hand at him.  A green conductor jumped up behind and rang the bell twice as a signal to start.  Hurstwood turned the lever and ran the car out through the door into the street in front of the barn.  Here two brawny policemen got up beside him on the platform—­one on either hand.

At the sound of a gong near the barn door, two bells were given by the conductor and Hurstwood opened his lever.

The two policemen looked about them calmly.

“’Tis cold, all right, this morning,” said the one on the left, who possessed a rich brogue.

“I had enough of it yesterday,” said the other.  “I wouldn’t want a steady job of this.”

“Nor I.”

Neither paid the slightest attention to Hurstwood, who stood facing the cold wind, which was chilling him completely, and thinking of his orders.

“Keep a steady gait,” the foreman had said.  “Don’t stop for any one who doesn’t look like a real passenger.  Whatever you do, don’t stop for a crowd.”

The two officers kept silent for a few moments.

“The last man must have gone through all right,” said the officer on the left.  “I don’t see his car anywhere.”

“Who’s on there?” asked the second officer, referring, of course, to its complement of policemen.

“Schaeffer and Ryan.”

There was another silence, in which the car ran smoothly along.  There were not so many houses along this part of the way.  Hurstwood did not see many people either.  The situation was not wholly disagreeable to him.  If he were not so cold, he thought he would do well enough.

He was brought out of this feeling by the sudden appearance of a curve ahead, which he had not expected.  He shut off the current and did an energetic turn at the brake, but not in time to avoid an unnaturally quick turn.  It shook him up and made him feel like making some apologetic remarks, but he refrained.

“You want to look out for them things,” said the officer on the left, condescendingly.