lost himself in a crowd, and whether he got on the train or not they could not tell.
The train was but scantily filled, and only four people occupied the coach with the young Americans. One couple was evidently a newly married pair who had been on a wedding trip to Christiania, and they were very retired and shy. The other pair were a burgomaster and his wife, from some interior town. The burgomaster—who held a position similar to that of a mayor in an American city—wanted everybody to know who he was, and was thoroughly disagreeable. He crowded Dave into a corner until the youth could hardly get any air.
"I'll thank you not to crowd so much—there is plenty of room," said the boy.
The Norwegian did not understand, and continued to crowd the youth. Then Dave grew thoroughly angry and crowded back, digging his elbow well into the burgomaster's fat ribs. This caused the man to glare at the young American. Nothing daunted, Dave glared back.
"What do you do that for?" demanded the burgomaster, sourly.
"I don't speak Norwegian," answered Dave, brokenly, for that was one of the native phrases he had picked up. "But I want you to quit crowding me," he added, in English, and moved his elbows to show what he meant.
