Red Lodge picket. [volume] (Red Lodge, Mont.) 1889-1907, 1893-11-11
A MOB AND A MOTHER.
THE CONSEQUENCE c. \ CRIMSON
CRIME IN NORTH DAKOTA.

Terrible Vengeance of a Mob Before the
Machinery of Law Was In Force-Bereft
of Rcason-A Pathetic Story of Lynchins
In the Northwest.
Especial Corrcspcnt;encc.1
NoETTiTOoD, Il. D., Oct. 19.-1t is q
bright, serene and marvellous clear day
in North Dakota. The prairie is check
cred with squares OF grass and grain
Eells. The little cl1snps Of hand plant
cd trees are tossing their branches in the
amber air. Now and then a bird chirls
its rouEdelav, ora vagrant butterfly reels
down a sunbeam anl lights upon their
leaves.
The little village where am sojourn-
ing for & few brief, delightful days, lies
steened in sunlight. and ii broad, brave
sweep of urlulatins years lies between
me and the hour when was here before.
Oh, that hour! 1t is branded rs with
burning irons into my brain, my heart,
my soul!
I sat that day, CT all days i'll my life, at
the door of The Norlhwood Headlight
paper was editing then. Suddenly
heard Il cry of rage, pathos and q sp;ir,
and sprinsins to my feet / looked down
the road to the westward, from whence
it came.
A block of so men were standing in
front Of the jail-50 men in granger garb
so men, with u hellisll. terrible purpose
in their hearts. They had taken pris-
oner from his cell. They had pulled him
over the threshold into the open street,
where he lay on his back painting with a
rope round his slim. white. boyish
throat.
l remember that l stood as if one
transfxed and turnel to stone. while the
mob started off, voiccless, dragging its
victim through the dust.
Not Il word was spolSen-not one.
The only sound that startled the silence
was the tramp, tramp, tramp. of the
avengers and the awful moans of the
poor, bloody, foaming creature haltered
at their heels. Men, women and chill
dren rushed to doors. windows and por-
ticoes as the hateful procession passed,
their lips sealed in speechless awe. their
faces blanched at the atrocity Of the
spectacle.
Sick at heart, turned back into my
Office, but when l went 10 my hotel in
the twilight | saw a ghastlv thing that
God had made high swinging from n
sycamore.
Astorm sprang up at midnight. Light
ming tore the sky into slivyrs of flame.
Thunders shook the world. Rain fell in
fury, and winds went shudderins
through vast black voids.
And through it all the ghastly thing
that God had made upon its gibbet
swung!
In the midst of the tempest train
rolled up to the depot and left one pas
senger in this little town-an old wom-
an, with soft, white hair, bloomy cheeks
and sweet, bright, kindly eyes. She went
to the one hotel, registered and retired,
The landlady met her in the morning
and remarked:
Il hope you rested well, madam, f,1
it was q rowdy storm we had"
"Oh, yes" saisi the old woman, with a
sunbeamy smile. II rested well, though
it was, as you say, q rowdy storm. But
took a happy heart with me to bed.
and it is a happy heart have this morn
ing, for 1 will meet my son today-my
Cyril, whom | have not seen for seven
years"
"Have you Travelled fur?"
"Yes ma'am; from Massachusetts,"
she said, running to the Coor. "But
what is that?"
''Oh, it's a young man they lyrched
yistidy "a hoss thief, they said - an
they're kerryin his buddy to the cor
oner's. Twas i; shame, his hangin, fur
hewas real handsome feller, perlite an
clever, an l scz to Jeremiah-that's my
husban-I sez to him this very 1nornin.
that l didn't believe as how the boy had
done it, am
The four men, carrying the dead upon
stretcher, were passing the door. Tho
body was covered with cloth, but one
hand fell below its folds, and on that
hand there sparkled a quaint hoop Of
twisted gold, claspiny a star opal that
glitterel in the sun.
The old woman saw it. Her face grew
gray. A maniac light leaped into her
eyes, and tearing the cloth from the
corpse she shrieked:
My son! Ny Cyril.'
The men laid their burden at her feet.
She lznelt over it, tangled her fingers in
the golden locks and pressed her lips
upon the beautiful dumb lips Of her
dead boy.
Silence
The landlady leaned forward with
tears running down her face, ndsobbed:
Come with me, ma am"
Silence.
"Ma'am, do-do come with NO."
Silence.
A doctor stepped forward, lifted the
bent brow and whispered huskily, "She
is dead!'
hate mob with hatred that burns
in every atom of my sense and soul. 1t
is Christless as it is cruel-cruel as it is
cowardly. The raving devils who COM
pose it are craven all. Not one of them
dare meet singly the victim of its wrath.
Not one of them dare risk singly the
consequences of it's crimson crime.
WILL HUBBARD-KERNAN.