At this information Kurt rather closely pressed his hand upon the revolver in his side coat pocket.

By asking questions and making judicious replies he passed what he felt was the dark mark in that mixed company of I.W.W.

men; and at length, one by one, they melted away to their warmer corners, leaving Kurt by the door.
He did not mind the cold.

He wanted to be where, at the first indication of a stop, he could jump off the train.
With his hand on his gun and hugging the bulging coat pockets close to him, Kurt settled himself for what he believed would be interminable hours.

He strained eyes and ears for a possible attack from the riffraff I.W.W.men hidden there in the car.