# By Sanction of Law/Chapter 3

Youth always dislikes to miss any entertainment, even such minor amusement as a small parade, being able to extract excitement from the dullest of marching bodies. Lida and her companion were no exception. At the sound of the music one clutched the arm of the other as the two paused.
"Oh, listen," cried the older girl. "A band!—Some parade. Oh, Goody! we'll see some fun. That's ripping! We'll have something to tell the other girls."
Lida's heart was full of expectancy also. There are few parades in the country and none with martial music, particularly in the South. For this reason, though she had witnessed some parades, on circus days when she had gone to Lexington, near her home for a visit, the music of this band was so lively and the occasion to unique in her life that she was almost in an hysterically excited state.
The two girls stood arm in arm, listening in eagerness while the noise of the parade approached but was as yet unseen, around a further corner of the square. As they stood, a band behind a large American flag, came into view. Accompanying this flag was another emblem of the organization of street car men. A banner announced that they were on strike and were parading to their hall for a meeting.
On they came, into the square till the entire body, some five hundred of them were in view. As the head of the procession reached the square proper they were met by a ​squad of police who attempted to turn them back. The procession halted then started again. As it did so the police were seen to rush them. This precipitated a riot and soon the square was a mass of yelling, pushing, surging, fighting humanity.
Women and girls who had been caught in the mass, by the suddenness of the shift from peace to war were struggling, screaming, fainting and adding to the hubbub. The sickening dull blows of club against cracking skulls, the thud of fists against faces and bodies increased the melee and confusion. Where a few moments before there was law and order, peace and harmony, now the beast in man was raging and the law of the brute fought for mastery. In the midst of this riot suddenly revolvers began to bark their shots. Panic seized the weaker hearted of those in the throng.
At the beginning Lida and her companion failed to comprehend the seriousness of their predicament and stood so long gazing at the spectacle that before they fully sensed their danger they had been swept from the sidewalk and into the midst of the whirling, swirling, fighting mass. Indignation at their predicament and their inability to free themselves as well as the spirit of battle that now seemed to grip all, caused them to forget the refining influences that had been theirs and they battled back with those about them till they were so tightly hemmed in by the jam that their efforts were futile. They were fast becoming as hysterical as those about them, losing their saner senses, appreciation of their dangers overwhelming them.
​As they struggled a cobblestone swirled over Lida's shoulder and crashed against the skull of a citizen who immediately lost consciousness and slumped, though the compactness of the crowd about him prevented his body for a moment or so from falling to the paving where it was later trampled into an unrecognizable mass.
Both girls now began screaming as the horror of their predicament grew. In the midst of the confusion, just as Lida was losing control of her senses and becoming entirely mad she was conscious of a strong voice over her shoulder.
"I'll protect you, ladies," it said. "Don't get nervous. Don't get nervous. Steady now! Steady!"
There was something so commanding about the voice; something so vibrant, confident and reassuring that Lida's courage which had been forsaking her began to return. She tried to see who was behind her but failed. The soothing positiveness of the assertions she heard was restoring to her a calmness that a few moments before she was ready to believe was impossible. Her companion, however, was still screaming and battling.
Before she could collect her senses further the voice commanded, still in that vibrant calm assured tone:
"Turn about now. Turn till you face me."
The voice seemed now to be having the same effect on Miss Comstock as it had on Lida for she ceased to scream. Both girls, with every sway and twist of the crowd wrenched their bodies till they were turned in the direction they had been commanded to take. With each give and surge of the crowd they gained more freedom of move​ment. When turned completely about they clung to each other desperately and looked for the face of their rescuer. His back was now turned to them but he talked to them over his shoulder.
"Now catch my coat and cling for life. Don't let go for anything, and keep behind me," he shouted.
The girls battled till they were pressed closely against his back; so closely that they breathed with difficulty. He waited till he felt the clutch at his coat and the clinging arm about his waist. Tall of shoulders and ruggedly set up he was almost complete protection for the girls on their front. As they clung frantically to him he started to make a path through the fighting mass. Fists were flying and blows were aimed in promiscuous as well as disinterestedly generous profusion at the head of the young man who acted as their protector.
Lida was self-possessed enough by now, thanks to the healthy outdoor life to which she had been bred that her nervousness was leaving her. They moved toward the outer edge of the crowd with slow, disputed steps. Lida looked up at her protector and marvelled at the coolness with which he fought for them; how he parried blows aimed for him and through it all waded toward the rim of the mass and safety.
Twice his head was tilted back by the blows which were rained on him. Once Lida felt his progress halted and his body tremble. She thought he was about to sink and inwardly uttered a prayer for strength for him. His dark almost curly hair, which fell about his face was shaken ​back from his brow again and again by blows. Being taller than most of those about him he was a target for almost every other fighting man. Police clubs swung at him at the sa ne time that fist blows came his way. He parried them all with the deftness of a ring master but never faltered in his advance toward the safety zone.
Once a giant fist landed a bone-cracking blow against his chin and his head sank to his breast for an instant but was raised again. The blow bruised the flesh and blood flowed freely in a slow stream from the open wound. He shook his head and Lida felt a drop of the warm fluid on her cheek. It was a disagreeable sensation but she dare not release her grip to remove it and in an instant forgot it.
At that moment she was conscious of more freedom of movement and realized that they were almost free. A few steps more and what had seemed hours but had really been but a few minutes ended; they were approaching the wall of a tall building. Willing hands, at the outer edge of the mass reached for them and pulled them free. As she became aware of this a heavy stone came hurtling through the air from the midst of the mass and straight for the man rescuing them. She shrank herself and tried to shout a warning but could utter no syllable. She heard the crash of the stone for she had closed her eyes from the sight, and felt the body of the man weaken. She pressed him more tightly about the waist as if to hold him in support. He faltered an instant. The pressure of her arm seemed to revive him. He struggled on. A moment more and they were safe. The girls still clung to him, however. ​Without a word he rushed them along the side of the building to which they had come and to a drug store on a further corner, through the rear entrance of that and again into the street but beyond the riot zone. As they emerged from the store a taxicab was passing. The driver was seeking safety, fearing the mob would soon turn that way. Without preliminaries the young man halted the cab, opened the door, hurried the girls into it, shouting:
"East side!—East Side! Quick!"
The driver pulled his levers and drove rapidly up the hill past the University and toward the vicinity of Miss Gregory's school. The girls were still in such a frantic state of hysteria, though subdued, that when the cab halted they feared another assault. Asked where they wished to be driven, Lida who was the more composed of the two decided they would walk, having seen the school cupola a few streets away. Their rescuer started to accompany them but they demurred. Miss Comstock, who had been weeping silently regained self control as they walked away. The driver realizing that the young man was in need of medical attention turned on the power and hurried to find a physician.
The simple life of the Southern country girl had given her a constitution to which "nerves" were unknown. Due to this she was the more composed of the two girls, the less shaken as they started down the street to the school entrance. Miss Comstock seemed to sense this strength and clung shiveringly to Lida's arm. The latter was the first to speak. "Wasn't it awful?" she commented, half mus​ingly. Her companion shuddered and clung to the arm she had grasped.
"A street fight." Lida continued, her mind retracing the events. "I wonder what it was all about?—I surely thought we'd be killed—and we would have had it not been for him—Oh!" she cried, standing still at the new thought that intruded.
"Oh! we didn't get his name.—How rude!—and he was hurt too." Then turning to Miss Comstock. "Did you see how his head was bleeding. Poor man. He must be frightfully hurt."
She suddenly pictured again the flying stone as it crashed against their rescuer's head. Her heart filled with stifling pain. She too began to weep as she recalled their struggle to reach safety and the risk this unknown man had run to save them, hysterical reaction forcing the tears and sobs.
"I shall love him all my life—love him and no other man." She vowed amid her tears.
Miss Comstock, who was now regaining her composure proved consoling as she offered: "He certainly was brave to risk his life for us in that mob.—Did you see his face?—Such deep brown eyes—such a smile—and such courage!—I wonder who he is! His face seemed familiar."
"Poor man! We were a pair of selfish sillies not to think of getting his name so we could thank him. Thanks would be such small pay, though, for what he did for us. It's perhaps better that we don't thank him."
"I wonder if he was badly hurt?" Miss Comstock asked sorrowfully.
​"Badly hurt. Poor—poor man! He's k-k-killed" Lida sobbed sympathetically as she thought of and analyzed the struggle, recalling the blows she knew struck his head and shoulders. "I hate mobs!" she exclaimed vehemently. "Mobs are such brutal things. Why do men fight and kill anyway?"
Miss Comstock looked at her companion. "Why, I thought you people in the South were used to mobs" she said.
"Oh, they don't count. Only niggers get hurt in them. Besides my folks don't indulge in those things. Southern mobs are composed of the poor, the rough and the people new to the country. The better class whites are above that sort of thing. I hate those mobs too, she added. A mob's a mob and savage at the heart whether South or North, in America or Timbuctoo."
The girls had now reached the school and were soon detailing the story of their experiences, to the teachers and girls who gathered about them, having noted the disarray of their clothing. Lida's hat had been entirely lost and her hair tumbled about her face, her waist and skirt almost in ribbons and Miss Comstock in almost the same condition.
They were still in the midst of their recital which had been freely interspersed with spasms of weeping as they recalled frightful portions of their experiences. They talked alternately, at the same time and sometimes with a half dozen chattering at once but all being understood ​when Miss Gregory and the others who had made the trip burst in on them.
"Oh, my girls!" she exploded as she gathered them both weepingly in her arms, "I'm so relieved—so relieved." With this she kissed them both in her excess of emotion as she held them. "I'm so glad you reached home. I was afraid you had been caught in that mob down street and either hurt or killed. We just missed being caught in it ourselves and saw ambulances rushing wounded to hospitals and stations. Wasn't it awful?—Such fighting I never saw. There was no regard for women and children or anything else. I'm so glad you escaped and were not in it."
"Oh, but they were," one of the girls answered. "They had the thrillingest experience imaginable. Even to being rescued by a handsome hero. I envy them." At this everybody burst into laughter thus banishing another approaching storm of weeping. "They were just telling us about it when you returned." The speaker continued.
"What?" exclaimed Miss Gregory, as she held each girl off at arm's length and inspected them, fear in her heart again. "Were you hurt? Were you hurt?" she asked frantically anxious. "Oh, why did I let you leave us!—Why did I?—Think what might have happened!"
"Oh, but we're all right now," Lida volunteered. "—A little shaken but that's all."
At this Miss Gregory became authoritative again. "Get right to your rooms, Girls" she commanded to those who had been grouped about Lida and Miss Comstock. "Right ​to your rooms and prepare for dinner." As she spoke she ushered the two girls into her study to question them concerning their experiences. Both young women assured her they were whole of bones and had now recovered from their nervousness. As she heard this Miss Gregory exclaimed:
"I shall never allow two of my girls to travel alone again."