Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1912-11-22
THE CUB REPORTERS BEAT.


1 was a cub reporter then; and, of
course, the first of the gang" to show
up for duty that August afternoon.
had ambitions
Here you-what's your namel" again
exploded the main squeeze" as the
managing editor was known-behind his
back, of course. you've just 10 min
utes to catch the B. Y. west bound.
Now hustle!'
Trusting a mileage book and a crum-
pied telegram into my hand the edi-
tor slammed the door of his sanctum
behind him, and so disappears both
from view and from this story.
1 had just 10 minutes to make the rail-
way station 1 made it in FIVE. Then
for the first time l read the message
1t was from the papers country cor
respondent at Mayston, and said: Riot
at Dixon, five killed. Send man" why
send man." l wondered why don't
that correspondent get a wiggle on, and
cover that crme-fest himself? Don't he
need the money? Where is Dixon, any
how; and II the row Is at Dixon, then
why all this fuss about Mayston? 1
got the geography of the affair straight
ened out by a train caller, and as the
cars rolled out from the long shed, my
mind came back with a bounce to matt
ters financial. A quick inventory show
ed a cash capital of two lonesome dol
lars, for payday, alas! was two days
gone.
The conductor knew where Dixon was,
all right; eight miles from Mayston.
"Riot?" said he. Bugs There are not
enough people in Dixon to start a riot,
for 1 could see my finish If 1 came
through" without some kind of story.
When / stepped from the train, along
with a "short-circuit' travelling man,
and a farmer who was Juggling home a
new pillow point by means of a bit of
rope, the situation had not cleared. A
young man lurking in the baggage end
of the station finally beckoned mysteri-
ously, and by a clrcuitous route 1 join
ed him.
Are you the Fact MANI" he asked.
1 said 1 was.
I'm your correspondent here" he con-
tinued, land say, they've had a hi of
a time over yonder."
"Well?"
"Well what?'
"oh, nothing; why don't you get busy
on the job?"
Say, boy" was his reply, and he said
it scarcely above a whisper, you don't
know Dixon, and l do. That's why.
I'm taking no chances. I'm an engaged
man." Then he laughed and punched
me in the ribs. l felt like punching him
in the face.
Here was a fine situation for a cub
reporter. Eight country miles from a
story; local correspondent worse than
useless; two lone simoleons in my
clothes; night coming on, and not
friend in sight.
ance to show me the village livery sta
BILE, and the general direction of Dixon,
L stood the keeper off for a horse and
buggy. OF course, being a stranger and
going to Dixon, l didn't get exactly the
best ones he had in his barn. The horse
was white, apparently older than l was,
and was as stiff as a newly Numbered
collar. He got over that after a while
but that is anticipating. The buggy
was just "so-so," but the wheels turn
ed round, and that at least, was an en-
couragng symptom. The whip was A
No. l, a whalebone- ba cked affair, with
spring like fiy-rod.
Look out when you cross the crick.
This was a Parthian shot one hostler
gave me as he sauntered back to his
currying. What "crck," and what
was to look out for" were more than
1 had time to figure out then. Well,
found the 'crick" about four miles out
On one side the road was overhung with
bushes and trees, and dipped abruptly to
the ford The stream was shallow at
this point, and luckily, there were few
rocks in it's bed.
On the other side, there was a steep
rise from the water up, and cornfields
came down almost to the wheel tracks
on both sides. Add to this a few trees
that made an arch over the road, and it
was a dark and solemn place for sure
1t was getting dusk, and the quaver of
a screech owl did not add any to the
enthusiasm of the occa sion.
On the scene: 1t had been a day of
blood The evidence was still there AS
l found the crossroads and approached
the hamlet of Dixon, Whitley" the
horse, SHE'D from a something that still
lay in the dust of the limestone road.
A dark stain surrounded what had once
been a man. l had nearly run over
Ugh!
A feud of years standing had been
settled (for five mem at the court of
lead In the little general store COW
cred by horse blankets, four more bodies
lay in a CHASTITY row. They were wait
ing action by the coroner. Looking
back at this late date, rather suspect
that the official may have been in the
same boat with the MaystonDcorrespond
ent. He never appeared while l was
there. The details of the feud were
easy piece together, even from the
hushed and awed gossip about the place
Some years before, two boys had quar-
relied over the ownership of a dog Their
elders had taken the quarrel up; the
row had spread to the relatives on both
sides; politics had played a nasty part !;
and rural courts bore upon their records
the progress of the plot. The shoulder
ing fire of hatred had burst into a flu
rious blaze Of anger; and, meeting in
the hamlet, the factions had fought with
rifles and shotguns.
Besides the five who lay lead wom-
an spectator-drawn to the door of her
cabin by the firing, and carrying her
babe in her arms-lay lowering just out
side the border of death. The child
moaned necessarily from a furrow cut
| by the same bullet that had laid its
mother low. A door just behind where
| one faction had sought the shelter of
| some trees in front, was riddled like a
| pepper box, and against the stone of a
| horse trough across the street (where
the opposite faction had made a stand),
| splotches of lead showed where the bull
let's and shot had failed to find a human
| target.
The people in the hamlet were not
talking with strangers much that even
ing. and a notebook sprung by me
! dark corner, and-another form under
| the horse blankets. 1t was a case of
| remember for me, poor cub reporter.
! Knots of men began to gather, look as
! Rance in my direction, and then silently
mount and ride away in the direction of
! Mayston. | had noticed a number of an
finals hitched to the public rack, as ]
| drove into the place, and from the heavy