The Russellville Democrat., 1893-09-07


 'sThem fellers hasn't no bouquets in their guns," is the way a street gamin expresses it.
 "Whither are they goingf" "What have they first to dofn is the cry. Police officials ride now with the captain temporarily in command a carriage has whisked the colonel over to headquarters, but haste haste is the word. On they go, silent, grim, with the alkali dust of the North Platte crossing still coating their rusty garb. A great swing bridge looms ahead; dozen police deploy on either side and check the attending crowd. Over they go at route step, and then turning to the right tramp on down roughly paved street, growing dim and dinner every minute with stihing smoke. Presently they are crossing snake-like lines of hose, gashed and useless; passing fire apparatus standing unhitched and neglected; passing fremen ex- hausted and listless. Then occa- sional squads of scowling men give way before their steady tramp and
 are driven down alleyways and
 around street corners by reviving
 police. Then the head of column
 turns to the left and comes full upon scene of tumult-a great building in flames, a great mob surging about it defying police in reference and bent apparently on gutting the structure from roof to cellar and pillaging the neighboring stores. Now men, here's work cut out for youi Drive that mob
 bloodlessly if you can, bloodletting if you must
 The colonel is again at the head. All are on foot. "Left front into line, double time;" the first com pany throws its long double rank from curb to curb. Drummond, it's commander, striding at it's front. Wing, his subaltern, anxiously watching him from among the file closers. Already they have reached the rearmost of the rioting groups, and, with warning cries and impre- cations, these are scurrying to either side and falling into the hands of the accompanying police. Thicker, denser grows the smoke; thicker, denser the mob.
 "Clear this street! Out of the wayP are the orders, and for a half block or so clear it is. Then comes the first opposition. On a pile of lumber tall, stalwart man in grizzltd beard and slouching hat evidently leader of mark among the mob--is shouting orders and en- couragement. What he says cannot be heard, but nov, tightly wedged between the rows of buildings, the mob is at bay, and, yelling mad re- sponse to the frantic appeals ard gesticuiations of their leader, at least two thousand reckless and in- furiated men have faced the little battalion surging steadily up the narrow street.
 "You may have to fire, Drum mond," says the colonel, coolly. "Get in rear of your company" Obedient, the tall lieutenant turns and follows his chief along the front of his advancing line so as to pass around the flank. He is not fifty paces from the rile on which the mob leader, with half dozen half drunken satellites, is shouting his exhortations. Just as the lieuten- ants arm is grazing grim old Feeny's elbow as he passes the first ser geant's station brick comes hurl- ing through the air, strikes full upon the back of the officers un- protected head, and sends him, face downward, into the muddy street. In the yell of triumph that follows, Wings voice for an instant is un- heard. Obedient to its principle. "Never load until about to fre," the battalion's carbines are still empty, but all on a sudden c troop halts. "With ball cartridges load !n is Wings hoarse, stern order. "Now aim low when 1 give the word. Fire by company. Company, readyp' and, like one, the hammers click. But no command "Aim" follows. 'Look out Look out For Gods sake, don't fire Out of the wayp' are the frantic yells from the throats of the mob. Awayfthey go. Scattering down side streets, alley-ways, behind lumber-piles, everywhere anywhere. Many even throw themselves flat on their faces to escape the expected | tempest of lead. "Don't 6re," says the colonel, mercifully. "For- ward, double time, and give them the butt. We'll support you" Down from the lumber piles come | the erstwhile truculent leaders. "Draw cartridge, men," orders l Wing in wrath and disappointment. "Now, butts to the front, and give 1 them thunder. Forward !" And l out he leaps to take the lead, dash ing straight into the thick of the scattering mob, his men after him. There is a minute of wild yelling, | eursing, of resounding blows and | trampling feet, and in the midst of | it all a single shot, and when Wing, | breathless, is finally halted two further on, cnly a dozen broken headed wretches remain