"We mustn't break and run, of all things," said Kurt. "They'd burn the village. Tell our men to save their shells.... If I only could get some cracks at a bunch of them together--with this big shot-gun!" "Say, we've been watchin' that car--the half-size one, there--next the high box-car," whispered Olsen. "It's full of them. Sometimes we see a dozen shots come from it, all at once." "Olsen, I've an idea," returned Kurt, excitedly. "You fellows keep shooting--attract their attention. I'll slip below, climb on top of a box-car, and get a rake-off at that bunch." "It's risky, Dorn," said Olsen, with hesitation. "But if you could get in a few tellin' shots--start that gang on the run!" "I'll try it," rejoined Kurt, and forthwith stole off back toward the shadow. It struck him that there was more light then when the attack began. The fire had increased, or perhaps the I.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.