Then a bell tolled outside, an official shouted the names of towns, and
there was a sudden stir and murmur of voices in the great waiting-room.
Men seized their bags and bundles, women dragged sleepy children to
their feet, and a crowd began to press about the outlet.

"Guess that's our train. She's going to be pretty full," said the
Canadian.

The party joined a stream of hurrying passengers, and regretted their
haste when they were violently driven through the door and into a
railed-off space on the platform, where shouting railroad-hands were
endeavoring to restrain the surging crowd. Nobody heeded them; the
immigrants' patience was exhausted, and they had suddenly changed from
a dully apathetic multitude waiting in various stages of dejection to a
savage mob fired by one determined purpose. Near by stood a long row
of lighted cars, and the immigrants meant to get on board them without
loss of time. There were two gates, guarded by officials who
endeavored to discriminate between the holders of first and second
class tickets, but the crowd was in no mood to submit to the separation.

It raged behind the barrier, and when one gate was rashly pushed back a
little too far, a clamorous, jostling mass of humanity stormed the
opening. Its guardians were flung aside, helpless, and the foremost of
the mob poured out upon the platform, while the pressure about the gap
grew insupportable. Women screamed, children were reft away from their
mothers, panting men trampled over bags and bundles torn from their
owners' hands, and George and the elderly Canadian struggled
determinedly to prevent the girl's being badly crushed. Edgar had
disappeared, though they once heard his voice, raised in angry protest.