Bisbee daily review., 1917-07-15

Looking through the windows of the
 Review office at two o'clock on that famous morning of July 12. one could see the horns of silver white half moon thrusting forth vaguely from be- hind ribbons of clouds that were of such a dark blue they were almost purple.
 One of the linotype operators caught a centipede on the floor and pinned it to the copy chair. He said it was a good omen.
 That waiting was tense business. Sheriff Wheeler came in with his proc lamation, He spoke in his soft, low tones and listened with mild interest to talk of the nights great adventure. He might have been in the office to get some dance programs printed for all one could tell from his bearing and his demeanor.
 It was getting on towards three o'clock. The town was very quiet, not a noise coming up from the streets through the open windows. The click of the Associated Press instruments sounded loud from the next room and one could hear the low hum of the linotypes down stairs. The telegraph editor yawned. The foreman wanted to know if the force were to be furn- ished with guns. He seemed to be dis appointed when answered in the neg ative.
 After a while the street sweepers came on duty. They made plenty of noise with their carts and shovels and brooms. Surely there was nothing in the stolid movements of these men and their numbering machines to pres age the stirring events that were soon to come.
 Occasionally an automobile sped by or the footsteps of watchman were heard. Looking up and down the de serted and quiet street at daylight one became oppressed with the fear that the affair had been abandoned.
 At four o'clock came the first word that stirring events were on foot and it came over the telephone in moth- CTS tones, anxious for her boy to come down and deliver his papers that morning. Her husband had been mys- teriously summoned away. A neighbor had called to say that many men were gathered behind the church. Upon be- ink assured that no news boy owuld be allowed to leave the office except in perfect safety, she said she would send the youngster. This faith nov ed the newspaper man greatly for he has a small son.
 In little while another mother call ed. Her boy had started down to de- liver his route but had been stopped by armed men up the canyon.
 It was broad daylight now and the night watchman, grizzled and gray, knocked on the office door. He wanted his paper. "Will there be anything hot in the paper this morning?' he asked. "It will not be cold" was the reply; ''in fact it will not be luke warm"
 A man passed with white handker- chief tied around his arm. He was deputy sheriff The men of Paris on the St. Bartholomew massacre wore white handkerchief's on their arms.
 The morning was like a beautiful dream come true. The light stole down from the skies and adorend the homely mountain peaks with glory Down in the valley it was dim and sweet and cool like the light through stained windows. The mountains look ed so strong in the dawning. They seemed to be the staunch protectors of the town below them.
 People began to appear on the streets. From within came the noise of the foreman locking up the forms. The pressman threw the knife switch. the motor flashed and the press began o rattle-just preliminary tuning up to see that all was right.
 Pretty soon the wobblies began to appear. They were going on picket duty in front of the postoffice. They slouched along to their places. talking a little. There were more of them than usual. They did not suspect a thing. The hour had been set for SIX thirty. It was now six-twenty-nve. A cook from the restaurant across the street came out to the doorway in his cap and apron. and, raising his hands above his head. enjoyed big stretch and breath of morning air all in one. It seemed to the overwraught audi ence of one that surely his stretching muscles would crack like pistol shot when his hands met behind his head.
 The foreman came to the printing office door wiping his hands on an ink stained towel. He looked out anxious Iv at the awakening street. What time is it?" he asked. With his last word came a shrill whistle and the rush of man feet. And then from three converging points there rushed forward towards the "wobbly picket line on the plaza compact groups oi armed men.
 "Six-thirty', answered the newspa- per man, but the foreman never heard him. He had dropped his tower anu
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