The Holly chieftain., 1913-08-01

Ill 0vS1 VIZ IlO5l San-
guins Of Mosby's dare
devils admitted that.
II Ii II 80. after the manner of
~ their kind, they broke
~ the hring-line into a
hundred pieces and
punched in twos and
threes scattered broadcast over the
sun-baked. cactus-clad hills-soldiers
OF fortune, insurrectos OF Mexico no
longer; merely men. who had broken
the laws of land and were fleeing
for their lives.
1t had but one object in view-this
fighting machine broken into bits, that
had taken up the cause Of country
other than its own-and that was to
cross the American border and there
seek the protection of the stars and
stripes. under whose folds every
mothers son Of tts soldery had been
born.
My bunkie and were on the left
dank when the crash came Some
thing hit that left flank and melted
1t, twisted and distorted 1t like SO
much steel put to the flame. did not
realize what It was at the time, but
do now. 1t was a battery, living.
breathing incarnation of hell in the
shape of machine guns, handled by
men who knew how to use them.
Our wing Of the army melted in it's
hot breath. Men who had fought
standing, kneeled. Men who kneeled.
lay down, tried to bury myself in the
bosom of Mother Earth and, Mother
Earth being baked adobe in that par
ticular spot, took to my heels.
1t was the beginning of the end.
Everybody was running. so what was
the use Of remaining? They were
ten to one against us, this enemy, and
artillery to boot. Besides, our old
fashioned single-loading Springfields
were being pitted against repeating
rifles Of the latest pattern. And the
ammunition was running low.
Even thus reasoned as ran, pell-
nell. for the border, four long miles
away. In my fancy there loomed be.
fore me the fate Of our wounded al
Tecate and the bloodletting OF the
Alamo.
Somebody gripped the toe Of my
boot and l sprawled headlong into
cactus and rocks. 1t was a wounded
comrade, an American like myself
only boy at that, whose ruddy face
had often seen at our troop mess
or over some neiehboring campfire Of
Baja California.
His shoulder had been shot away
A leg was crushed below the knee
There was no hope for his life, but
he wanted to be taken away.
For Gods sake, don't leave me
pail" he cried. They'll burn me
they'll kill me SLOW" he moaned.
For moment was stunned by the
fall, but the boys pathetic appeal
brought me to my senses and burned
into my brain where 1t will forever
remain.
l looked around me. There were
wounded men, most Of them boys
clutching at their fleeing comrades
beseeching them not to leave them tc
the mercy of the Mexican rurales.
Yet these men whom had seen
cheerfully face death many times
men who had enlisted In foreign
cause unafraid to die. in battle, but
standing ever in mortal terror of the
torture chambers on the battle fields
of Mexico.
The Death Rain.
For moment my manhood return
ed and the massacre fear left me-
would shoulder this MANNED bit of hu
manity, stagger to the line with my
burden, over those cruel, never ending
hills which l must scale with my
charge before we reached safety.
staggered to my feet, but the zip
zip of the "dum-dums," those same
''dum-dums' that had crippled this
boy brought me back to a realization
of my peril Il.
An instant l faltered in hoistine
him to my back, but the boy seemed
to divine my change of heart. He
gripped me again. this time with q
dying mans clutch which could moi
and would not shake on unless
broke his arm,
So tshouldered the bleeding little
figure and labored forward, the while
he murmured, Good boy, good boy,
and the bullets of the Federals eve,
hissed and screeched in my ears.
Something rose up In my path. Il
barred my progress. It was shattered
by shot-a human form-scarce rec
ognizable now for the blood that stain
ed 1t from head to foot. But voics
husky with pain and terror beggee