The Telegraph-courier. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1888-1946, 1914-06-04
WITH BEATEN TROOPS
CORRESPONDENT TELLS OF A
RoUT IN MEXICO.
Just What II Means to Be Fleeing for
Life, With Savage Opponents
Pressing Their Victory
Closely.

suddenly discovered that | had
been hearing shooting for some time,
John Reed writes in the Metropolitan.
1t sounded immensely far away-like
nothing so much as a clicking type
writer. Even while 1t held our atten-
ton it grew. The barely noticeable
pricking of rifles deepened and be-
came serious Out in front now IL
was practically continuous-almost
the roll of a snare drum.
We could see them now, hundreds OF
little black figures, riding everywhere
through the chaparral; the desert
swarmed with them. Savage Indian
yells reached us. A spent bullet
droned overhead, then another; then
one unspent, and then a whole flock
singing flercely. Thud! went the adobe
walls as bits of clay flew. Poems and
their women rushed from house to
house, distracted with fear. A trooper
his face black with powder and hate
full with killing and terror, galloped
past shouting that all was lost
And then came the rout-a wild hud-
die of troopers all together, flashing
their terrified bnrses. They passed US
without stopping, without noticing, all
blood and sweat and blackness. Don
Thomas, Pablo trriola, and after them
little Gil Tomas, his horse staggering
and falling dead right in front Of us.
Bullets whipped the wall on all sides
of us.
Come on, meester," said Juan,
Tets co." We began to run. AS |
painted up the steep opposite bank Of
the arroyo looked back. Gil Tomas
was right behind me with a red and
black checked serape around his
shoulders. Don Petronilo came in
sight, shooting back over his shoulder,
with Juan Santillanes at his side In
front raced Fernando Silveyra, bend
Ing low over his horses neck. All
around the hacienda was a ring of
galloping, shooting, yelling men; and
as far as the eye could reach, on ev-
cry rise of the desert, came more
Juan Vallejo was aready far ahead
running doggedly with his rifle in one
hand I shouted to him TO turn off the
high road and be obeyed, without look
Ing back. followed. 1t was straight
path through the desert toward the
mountains. The desert was as bald
as billiard table here. We could be
seen for miles. My camera got be-
tween my legs. / dropped it. My
overcoat became terrible weight.
shook 1t off. We could see the com
paneros fleeing madly up the Santo
Domingo road Beyond them unex,
pectedly appeared wave of galloping
men-the thanking party from the
south! The shooting broke out again
and then pursuers and pursued van
lshed around the corner of little hill
Thank God the path was diverging
from the road!
ran on-ran and ran and ran, until
| could run no more. Then I walked
few steps and ran again. was
sobbing instead of breathing Awful
cramps gripped my legs. Here there
was more chapparal, more brush, and
the foothills Of the western mountains
were near IT the entire length OF
the patti ible from behind. Juan
Vallejo I shed the foothills, half
a mile aheS J., | saw him crawling up
a little rise. Suddenly three armed
horsemen swept in behind him and
raised shout. He looked around,
threw his rife far into the brush and
fled for his life. They shot at him.
but stopped to recover the rifle. He
disappeared over the crest, and then
they did, too.