The Fargo forum and daily republican. [volume] (Fargo, N.D.) 1894-1957, 1914-06-08
WITH BEATEN TROOPS
CORRESPONDENT TELLS OF A
ROUT IN MEXICO.
Just What IL Means to Be Fleeing for
life, With Savage Opponents
Pressing Their Victory
Closely.

I suddenly discovered that I had
been hearing shooting for some time.
John Reed writes in the Metropolitan.
1t sounded Immensely far away-like
nothing 80 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 u
was practically continuous-almost
the roll Of a snare drum.
We could see them now, hundreds OF
little black figures, riding everywhere
through the c~haparral; 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 fercely. Thud! went the adobe
walls as bits Of clay few. 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, gal1oped
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 US,
Bullets whipped the wall on all sides
of US.
Come on. meester," said Juan,
l"let'S go!" We began to run. AS ]
painted up the steep opposite bank of
the arroyo l looked back. G4l Tomas
was right behind me with a red and
black checked serape around his
shoulders. Don Petronilo zane 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 ore.
Juan Vallejo was aready far ahead
running doggedly with his rife in one
hand. l shouted to him to turn off the
high road and be obeyed, without look
ing back. I followed. It was a straight
path through the desert toward thu
mo 1tains. The desert was as balt
as a billiard table here. We could b
seer for miles. My camera got be
&vaaa - Inoc HHNnroT a. Ms
overcoat became a terrible weight.
shook it of. We could see the com
paneros fleeing madly up the Sant'
Domingo road. Beyond them i
pectedly appeared a wave Of gallopinI
men-the hankng party from tn
south! The shooting broke out agail
and then pursuers and pursued var
ished around the corner Of a little hill
Thank God the path vas divergin
from the .Sad!
ran on-ran and ran and ran, unit
I xld ran no more. Then I wake
a few steps and a again. I wa
sobbing Instead Of breathing. Awfr
cramps gripped my legs. Here ther
was more chapparaI, more brush, an
the foothills of the western mountain
we're esq. But the entire length {
the path was visible from behind. Jua
Vallejo had reached the foothills, ha
a mile ahead. I saw him crawling u
a little rise. Suddenly three arme
horsemen swept in behind him an
raised a shout. He looked aroun,
threw his rife far into the brush an
fed for his life. They shot at hin
but stopped to recover the rife. H
disappeared I'VE the crest. and the
they did, too.