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.
"That's right," agreed Hurstwood, shamefacedly.
"There's lots of them on this line," said the officer on the right.
Around the corner a more populated way appeared.

One or two pedestrians were in view ahead.

A boy coming out of a gate with a tin milk bucket gave Hurstwood his first objectionable greeting.
"Scab!" he yelled.

"Scab!" Hurstwood heard it, but tried to make no comment, even to himself.

He knew he would get that, and much more of the same sort, probably.
At a corner farther up a man stood by the track and signaled the car to stop.
"Never mind him," said one of the officers.