Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1914-07-30
WITH BEATEN TROOPS
coRREsPoNoENT TELLS OF A
RouT IN MEXICO.
Just WHAT II MeaRs 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.
It sounded immensely far away-like
nothing 80 much as clicking type
writer. Even while 1t held our atten-
ton 1t grew. The barely noticeable
pricking Of rifles deepened and be-
came serious. Out In front now IL
was practically continuous-almost
the roll OF 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 whole hocR
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, lashing
their terrified horses. They passed US
without stopping, without noticing, all
blood and sweat and blackness. Don
Thomas, Pablo Arriola, and after them
little GIL Tomas, his horse staggering
and falling dead right in front of u.s.
Bullets whipped the wall on all sides
of US.
Come on, meester," said Juan,
Tets go!" We began to run. AS
painted up the steep opposite bank OF
the arroyo l looked back. Gil Tomas
was right behind me with 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 I followed. 1t was a 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. I dropped it, My
,overcoat became a terrible weight. ]
shook 1t off. We could see the com
paneros fleeing madly up the Santo
Domingo road. Beyond them unex'
pectedly appeared a wave of gallopine
men-the flanking party from the
south! The shooting broke out again
and then pursuers and pursued van
ished around the corner Of little hill.
Thank God the path was diverging
from the road!
I ran on-ran and ran and ran, until
I could run no more. Then l walked
q few steps and ran again. I was
sobbing instead of breathing. Awful
cramps gripped my legs. Here there
was more chapparal, more brush, and
the foothills of the western mountaine
were near. But the entire length OF
the path was visible from behind Juan
Vallejo had reached the foothills, half
a mile ahead. saw him crawling up
little rise. Suddenly three armed
horsemen swept in behind him and
raised a shout. He looked around
threw his rifle far into the brush and
fed for his life. They shot at him
but stopped to recover the rife. He
disappeared over the crest, and then
they did, too.