At the downtown end of the line, one of the officers went to call up his station and report the trouble.
"There's a gang out there," he said, "laying for us yet.

Better send some one over there and clean them out." The car ran back more quietly--hooted, watched, flung at, but not attacked.

Hurstwood breathed freely when he saw the barns.
"Well," he observed to himself, "I came out of that all right." The car was turned in and he was allowed to loaf a while, but later he was again called.

This time a new team of officers was aboard.

Slightly more confident, he sped the car along the commonplace streets and felt somewhat less fearful.