Galveston Tribune. (Galveston, Tex.), Vol. 34, No. 57, Ed. 1 Saturday, January 31, 1914 Page: 4 of 10
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CHAPTER XXXIV.
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I’m done discussing this matter.
As
long as yer father isn’t able ter at-
Apparent Reason.
Floor.
her helplessness, laughed, and stepped
THE IDLE RICH.
“Wait!”
!
the library into the hall.
CHAPTER XXXill.
and
the
PER WEEK.
PER YEAR.
and I leaped after them,
two fired, and the ball
Foreign Representatives and Offioas
Eastern Representative West’n Representative
PUTNAM ANS RANDALL THE S. C. BECKWITH
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I was all ready, pistol in hand, burn*
ing with a determination to shoot Fa-
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45 West 84th Street
New YoskCity
Any erroneous reflections upon the stand-
ing. character or reputation of any person
firm or corporation, which may appear in
the columns of The Tribune, will be gladly
corrected upon its being brought to the
attention oi the management
Colonel Mortimer Was Propped Up
on His Pillow, One Hand Grasping
a Pistol.
7
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MEMBER OF ASSOCIATED PRESS
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graph report of that great news organiza-
tion tor exclusive afternoon publication in
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Published Every Week Day Afternoon at
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My LAD
) of Doubt
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to get
। crashing to the floor, with hands flung
j high over his head. I was aware oi
canals are needed, but
greatest possible returns
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shoulder, the impact throwing
POLITICAL WORRIES.
Fort Worth Star-Telegram.
Unfortunately the people worry most
over political questions that concern
them least, and this fault is confined
to no particular class. It is a failing
of the 90 per cent of the people who
consider themselves above the average
in intelligence, just as it is the fault
of the handful of “average” people.
the south
The secret is out. Gen. Pancho Villa
pleads ignorance in extenuation of his
acts in carrying on warfare in accord-
ance with the customs of his forebears,
and begs to be excused for the killing
off of his prisoners of war. He sought
light on the subject, promising reform.
Whereat, American army officials at
El Paso kindly donated to the rebel
chieftian a book on "The Ethics of In-
ternational Warfare.” Between stren-
uous moments of campaign life Gen.
Villa will get a correspondence course
as it were, in the latest thihg in war-
fare. Surely the United States can
have no good reason for continued non-
recognition of such a deserving and
sincere student.
The people of the United States will
stand for no domination by any set of
public officials. Chief Justice Walter
Clark of North Carolina struck a time-
ly note the other day when he warned
his fellow jurists through the country
"to take heed lest their power prove
their undoing.” Judge Clark declared
that all the power of government, both
federal and state, lies at the feet of a
“judicial oligarchy” composed of .the
lawyers of the United States. The
sentiment of the times looks for sharp
reform in the administration of justice.
The Fight in the Hall.
Scarcely comprehending that Claire
had escaped from the room, I was
More port facilities, terminals
DANIELS TO SPEAK.
Temple Telegram.
Honorable Josephus Daniels, secre-
tary of the American navy, will deliver
an address at the meeting of the Na-
tional Editorial association at Houston
in April. This is another feather in
the cap of Lee J. Rountree, editor of
the Georgetown Commercial, who was
primarily instrumental in bringing that
convention to Houston. Every time we
get a cabinet member to come to Texas
and to Houston, it brings benefit to the
state and pleasure to George M. Baily
of the Hover of Happiness.
22*9
88,5258 ■
20
Sharp Report, a Whirl of Smoke
and the Brute Went Backward
Over a Chair, Crashing to the
A vast opportunity will be opened to
the southern states with the beginning
of operations through the Panama
canal. This opportunity lies upon the
sea. It is up to the southern states
to develop their maritime facilities to
take advantage of the opportunity.
With reference to the state of civili-
zation in Japan, the Kansas City Star
is responsible for the following: “After
all, can Japan be classed as a civilized
country? Here is its anti-trust law:
‘If a company does acts contrary to
the public welfare, or to good morals,
the court may, on the application of
the public procurator or its own mo-
tion, order its dissolution.’ There is
the Sherman anti-trust act, as inter-
preted by the rule of reason, all in
thirty-two words. Everybody can un-
derstand the language of the act. No;
clearly Japan has a great deal of
‘western ways’ to learn yet.”
and scornful. “I will not consent to
this. I am going to leave this room.”
“Oh, I reckon not,” and he leered
into her eyes. “Don't rouse me, or
yer’ll find out I’m a wolf ter bite. Yer
get back there beside Grant, or I’ll
make yer.”
“You will? You dare not!”
“Don’t I, Mistress?" he cried saT-
VN"
Houston Chronicle.
The divorce nuisance, the segre-
gated district, the gambling den, the
high-grade saloon which in the form
of a club or a social center defies the
law, the race track, the introduction
of indecent social customs, the maud-
lin tendencies of the stage, the re-
fined ribaldry that permeates the up-
per stratum of so-called society, the
noticeable development of a great
servile element that feeds on tips and
thrives by obsequiousness—all these
and many other undesirable innova-
tions may be traced largely to the
direct influence of the idle rich.
should take- prompt and comprehensive
steps to secure a great merchant
marine, with shipyards, docks, fueling
stations and all of the other incidentals
thereto.
faces, the crush too dense to permit
of their being swung overhead. My
Dragoons had their sabres out, and
stood to it like men, the steel blades
dripping as they tasted blood. But
killing one only brought a new man to
the front. One does not see so much
as feel in such a jumble. Yet I knew
we were worsted, outnumbered. They
Camden militia! Camden militia! By
ill the gods, Farrell was there! It
was the voice of the Irish minute man
( hear the night we captured Dela-
van’s raiders. Then I closed my eyes,
and forgot
“So this is your way, is it, to win a
woman you cannot gain by fair
means? No, there is no need of your
answering; I understand the whole
despicable scheme. You masquerad-
ing as a prisoner of this creature!
You are his puppet. I’ve known it for
months. I learned the truth from
Eric, and from that moment I despised
you. While I believed you an honor-
able soldier I was able to treat you,
with outward respect, but no longer.
You threatened me with a forced mar-
riage once before, and failed. Now
you endeavor to succeed with the help
of this outlaw. But you never shall!
No, do not speak! do not hold out your
hands to me! You are not a prisoner.
These men are here at your instiga-
tion; you are concerned in their in-
famy. I would rather die than have
you touch me!”
She turned her back upon him, her
face white, her eyes blazing, but Fa-
gin stood between her and the en-
trance, grinning savagely.
“Let me pass, sir; this is my fa-
ther’s house.”
“Not while I am here, Mistress,” he
snarled, without moving. “The old
man isn’t ridin’after me with a squad-
ron of cavalry today. This happens
to be my turn to give orders, and yer
to obey! Do yer hear—yer’ll obey!
Those were n’t pretty words yer spoke
to Grant, but they don’t hurt me none.
You damned little spitfire, I’d marry
yer myself if I could, just to break yer
spirit. As it is, I’ll show yer yer mas-
ter fer once. So it’s the spy yer want,
is it?”
She stared at him without a word,
a depth of hatred but no fear in her
level eyes.
“Lost yer tongue, have yer? Well,
we’ll find it fer yer fast enough.
What’s the fellow’s name?”
“To whom do you refer?” she asked,
her passage blocked.
“The Continental who’s put Grant
out of the running?”
“I presume you mean Major Law-
rence, although no one has authority
to couple my name with his.”
“Oh, indeed! I’ll show yer author-
ity in plenty, Mistress. Come, now,
swept forward by the onrush o1
bodies. The preacher was knocked
headlong beneath the table, but Fagin
lay motionless underfoot. Jones and
Grant turned to a door at the right,
He turned his face slightly.
“Move back a step or two more;
we’ve got to hold them.”
“All right, sir.”
I felt weak from loss of blood, my
head reeling, and had to hold to the
rail. Below us, growling like wild
beasts, but seemingly leaderless, the
mob crushed forward to the foot of
the stairs. Suddenly I saw Grant, and
the sight of him gave me new life.
“You black-faced hound,” I called
down angrily. “You’ve kept yourself
safe so far. Now come on.”
He snarled some answer, what, I
know not. There was an empty pistol
in my belt, and I flung it at him with
all the force of my arm. He dodged,
the weapon striking the man behind.
With a howl of rage the fellows leaped
toward us, bearing Grant on the crest
of the wave. The pistols of the Dra-
goons cracked; three fell, blocking the
stairs with their bodies. We had room
now in which to swing our iron bars.
gun butts were thrust into our | . had no strength left. Only I could
- - - - chink—and the truth came to me.
GALVESTON TBIBUNE: SATURDAY, JANUARY 31, 1914.
Srim
.11®
Captain Barn of the Carmania, who
distinguished himself in th’e Volturno
rescue work, is a strict but just dis-
ciplinarian. Of Captain Barr, who al-
ways insists on spotless neatness, they
tell a story in shipping circles.
A very dirty young diver, it ap-
pears, was boasting in a hotel smok-
ing room about the dangers of his
calling. "Yes,” said the young man, as
he relighted the stub of a cigar, “yes,
you sailors, Captain Barr, think you
lead a dangerous life; but let me tell
you. I carry my life in my hands.”
"Oh, I see,” said Captain Barr; “and
that’s why you never wash them, eh—
for fear you’ll drown yourself.”—t
Houston Chronicle.
"Let us hope,” declaims some German
patriot in the Clagna Gazette, “that
Huerta will sustain himself and things
will take such a course that no Ger-
man blood need be spilled in behalf of
German interests!” If the patriot
contemplates German interference in
Mexico to sustain Huerta, the amount
of German blood that would flow be-
fore things quieted down would be
sufficient to float the German navy.
THE NEW ATMOSPHERE.
San Antonio Light.
A truce or a treaty are only effective
when both parties admit its existence.
With this in mind, that part of the
business world removed from the great
centers of commercial and banking ac-
tivities first read with feelings of
pleasure the moderate and well-chosen
words of President Wilson as to his
proposed anti-trust legislation, and
then awaited with much curiosity the
comment of the representatives of im-
portant business. If the president was
right in his statement that “a new
atmosphere” actually exists on the
part of the business interests, it meant
much for the immediate improvement
of conditions that have been due to
fear as to what the administration
might do next. President Wilson’s
words indicated a desire on his part to
do nothing that shall cause further dis-
trust and disquiet; it was a matter of
great importance how this assurance
should be received by those who have
been panicky ever since the new ad-
ministration came into power.
(ge
ee
9
GALVESTON TRIBUNE
(Establishea 1880.)
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came at us like a battering ram. I
saw the sergeant shot through the
forehead; I saw Eric go down beneath,
a crushing stroke, and roll under my
feet. I stepped on bodies, fighting for
my own life as I never fought before.
Somewhere I had gripped a gun out of
dead fingers and swung it savagely,
smashing the stock at the first blow,
but retaining the twisted iron. The
intensity of excitement seemed to
clear my brain. I began to distinguish
voices, to notice faces. I heard Grant
yell safely in the rear; I heard Jones’
roar, “To hell with ’em! To hell with
’em!” Out of the murk of struggling
figures I made out his black beard,
the gleam of yellow fangs, and leaped
toward him, striking men down until
I was able to swing at his head. He
went over like a stricken ox*under a
butcher’s ax, knocking aside two men
as he fell. It gave me chance to
spring out of the melee.
“To the stairs, men! The stairs!”
I cried. “We can hold them there!”
I cannot describe now how we made
it, but we did. I only know Tom and
I held the rear, sweeping circles of
death with our whirling gun-barrels,
falling back step by step as we fought.
1 At last I felt the bottom stairs with
my foot, and heard a voice shout:
“Come up, sir! We’ll hold ’em now!”
Then I was above the heads of the
mob, gripping the rail, and sobbing for
breath. There followed a moment’s
wait, an instant of hesitancy. I began
to see and feel once more. Below us
the hall was jammed with men, bo
closely pressed together as to be al-
most helpless. Blood streamed from a
cut in my forehead, nearly blinding
me, but I wiped it away, and took one
glance at their angry upturned faces,
and gained a glimpse of my own men.
There were but six of us, and one of
these lay helpless propped against the
wall. Tom and I stood alone, his face
blackened by powder, his shirt ripped
into rags; the other three were above,
pistols in hand.
“Are they loaded?” I gasped.
“Yes, sir.”
“Stand ready then, but look out for
above; there was a guard up there—
Tom.”
tend ter this affair I am a-goin’ ter • !
act in his place. We’ll have a loyalist ' j
marriage, by God! an’ have it now. I
Come, move, you coyote—Jones, hustle ■ forward. From what hidden conceal-
him along. Now, Captain, there’s a ! ment it came I know not, but there
good place ter stand, in between those ' was the flash of a polished barrel, a
windows. Mistress Claire—” ; sharp report, the whirl of smoke and
I the brute went backward over a chair,
Mpg
"826
g
mon property of all and a thousand men
can, without ever seeing each other,
or formally discussing a proposition
affecting their homes, arrive at a con-
clusion upon which action may be
predicated. Men are not so rapidly
moved by prejudice or impulse in local
affairs as in the broader policies af-
fecting the nation; enthusiasm may
play the siren to one’s feelings in a
proposition where the effects will be
only remotely felt, but in an expendi-
ture for more extensive sewer system
or a franchise to a public utility cor-
poration the tax payer is more largely
guided by judgment, just as he would
be in some proposed domestic expendi-
ture. And this is the getting of the
right things in the right places.
-8
--pg
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agely, “I’ll show yer.”
He reached forth one great hand,
the fingers gripping her sleeve, but i
she wrenched away, the cloth tearing
as she sprang back.
“Fagin, I know you, but I’m not
afraid of you. I know you for a cruel,
cold-blooded murderer, an outrager of
women, a thief, and an outlaw. No,
you cannot stop me now. You are a
low-down cowardly cur, making war
on women and children, sneaking
around in the paths of armies, plun-
dering and looting the helpless I
despise you and every man associated
with you. Neither you, nor all your
company, can make me marry Cap-
tain Grant. .1 will die first. No, don’t
move, and don’t think you are deal-
ing with a frightened girl. I am des-
perate enough, but I can act—”
“Hell! Jones, take that hell-cat by
the arms!”
“Jones will do nothing of the kind—
and you—stand back, Fagin; don’t
dare to lay a hand on me again!”
Her face was white, her lips set, her
eyes blazing, but Fagin, assured of
Whether or not we are prepared to
go all the way with Professor Gra-
ham Taylor of Chicago, who, in address-
ing the Southern Lumbermen’s asso-
ciation at Kansas City, says: "Keep
national politics out of the commu-
nity problems if you would build up
the community,” we are bound to ac-
company that gentleman to the extent
of refusing to carry on our municipal
campaigns under party names as well
as having, with remarkable unanimity,
agreed that while national and muni-
\cipal politics were realted it was merely
a marriage kinship and therefore not
'entitled to any more consideration than
would be accorded municipal methods
of conducting the home.
Professor Taylor, not satisfied that a
mere statement would be sufficient
argument to convince his hearers of the
reasonableness of his contention,
strengthens his assertion by a word
comparison clearly indicating that the
relationship between national and mu-
nicipal politics was not real and in fact
scarcely discernable. He added to his
first declaration: "Try to answer lo-
cal questions in national party terms—
then see what fools we are. Is there a
high tariff way of cleaning the streets?
Is there a gold standard method of em-
ptying a garbage can?” Surely no one
is disposed to attempt an answer to the
questions.
Happily the words of the Chicago
professor come today more in the shape
of endorsement of something already
done than as a proposed rule of action.
So many American cities have ven-
tured to cut loose from party tradi-
tions and the political practices that
have in the past held back the pro-
gress of a community and aided cer-
tain individuals in obtaining office,
that few students of economics today
but agree with the professor. How-
ever, there still remains a fighting
remnant not content with the new
order of things political and these are
atill engaged in clamoring for a re-
turn to practices that afforded them
greater opportunity for spending the
public money after their own personal
methods. Wisdom is coming with the
years.
With the loosening of the grip of
party tradition as relates to the gov-
ernment of cities there has also come
a swinging away from politics by or-
ganization whrich for a time threatened
to assume the place from which party-
domination was wrested. It was ar-
gued with some show of plausibility
that as the presence of the national
parties in local politics was incompa-
tible, there should be created something
similar to the national party to take
its place; inspired by thir belief well-
meaning people undertook the organi-
Katlon of local or municipal parties
which, while well intended, soon of-
fered the jobless national politician op-
portunity for again riding into power
an opportunity he was not slow in per-
ceiving and thus the municipality re-
alized none of the promised benefits
naturally expected from a separation
with party politics.
The city without a political party
is by no means a city without civic
problems and these have been made
so clear by the newspapers that there
exists no need for a party interpre-
tation. In these days of public schools
and cheap newspapers intelligence is
not limited to the few but is the com-
y ==3
‛ (
struggling devils in my front. Faces,
forms, came and vanished in the swirl
of smoke, brown gun-barrels whirled
before me, flashes of fire burned my
eyes, strange features, bearded, malig-
nant, glared at me. I leaped straight
at them, striking fiercely. Once I saw-
Grant, and aimed a blow at him. Then
he was gone, swallowed in the ruck.
Our mad onrush swept them back,
helpless, demoralized. I stumbled over
bodies, slipped in pools of blood, yet
kept my feet. Every muscle ached; X
was cut and pounded, yet drove into
the mass, shouting to those behind:
“Come on, lads! Come on! We’re
driving them!”
A yard, two yards, three—-beyond
the door where the men had escaped
we won our way. Then they could go
no further. Blocked, unable to retreat,
wedged helplessly against the far end
of the hall they turned like cornered
rats. I could see nothing of Jones,
but I heard him, raging like a fiend.
“Now, you curs, now!” he stormed.
“You cowardly scum—perhaps you’ll
fight when you can’t run! What are
you afraid of? There’s only a handful,
you can chew ’em up, if you will! Push
’em back, there! Push ’em back!”
With a yell of rage, those crushed
against the wall hurtled forward, driv-
ing the others; men were lifted and
hurled at us; others gripped at our
feet; by sheer force of numbers they
swept us backward. It was hand to
hand, neither side having time to re-
load their weapons. The smoke rose,
permitting a view of the shambles.
There was a, tangle of arms, a jumble
of faces. They were maddened beasts,
desperate, revengeful. Hands clutched
gin down, yet her voice halted him.
she cried, standing erect ! the swift rush of a body past me, 01
steps going up the stairs, and then.
i with a yell, my men poured out from
THE MAN OF HE HOUR
Searching for Claire.
I was unconscious, yet not for long.
The first touch of water served to re-
vive me, and I became aware that an
arm supported my head, although
everything was indistinct before my
eyes.
“More water, Mike,” said a voice
close at hand. “Yes, that will do.
Where is Farrell? Oh, Dan, this is
Major Lawrence.”
“One of the Dragoons said he was
in command. Hurt badly?”
“No, I think not; but utterly ex
hausted, and weak from loss of blood.
They put up a game fight.” ■
“Only three on their feet when we
got in. Hullo, Lawrence, getting back
to the world, lad?”
“Yes,” I managed to answer, feeling
strength enough to lift myself, and
vaguely noticing his features. “Is that
you, Farrell?”
“It certainly is,” cheerfully. “Duval
has his arm about you, and the Cam-
den boys are herding those devils
down below. You had some fracas
from the way things look. How many
men had you?”
I rubbed my head, endeavoring to
recollect, staring down into the hall.
It was filled with dead and wounded
men, and at the foot of the stairs was
a pile of bodies.
“Twelve, altogether,” I replied final-
ly. “They—they were too many for
us.”
“Three to one, or more, I should
judge. We got here just in time.”
I was up now, looking into their
faces, slowly grasping the situation.
“Yes,” I said, feeling the necessity
of knowing. “How did it happen?
What brought you? Washington—”
“All natural enough. Clinton got
away night before last with what was
left of his army. Left fires burning,
and made a forced march to the ships
at Sandy Hook. Left everything to
save his troops. Washington, realiz-
ing the uselessness of holding them
longer, sent most of his militia home.
About six miles out there on the pike
road a half-crazy preacher named
Jenks came up with us. He was too
'badly frightened to tell a straight
story, but we got out of him that there
was a fight on here, and came over as
fast as our horses would travel!” His
eyes swept the hall. "Five minutes
later would have been too late.”
“But Farrell, the girl! Do you
know anything about the girl?”
“What girl? Do you mean Claire
Mortimer? Is she here?”
“Yes, her father is lying helplessly
wounded up stairs, and she must be
with him. Eric is somewhere in the
hall, either dead or wounded. I saw
him fall just as we retreated to the
stairs."
Farrell leaned over and called to
some one below.
“Not yet, sir,” was the answer.
“Well, hunt for him. Now, we’ll go
up and find Claire. Major, can you
climb the rest of the stairs? Help him,
Duval.”
I experienced no great difficulty, my
strength coming back rapidly. There
was a wounded Dragoon leaning
against the wall, and half-way down
the hall lay another body, face down.
Without doubt this was the guard Fa-
gin had stationed there. Duval paused
to help the wounded man, but Farrell
and I moved on across the dead guard
to the open door beyond. Colonel
Mortimer, unable to move, was
propped up on his pillow, one hand
grasping a pistol. With shaking arm
he levelled it at us.
“Who are you? Quick, now!” he
quavered. “I’ve shot one, and I’m good
for more.”
and we battered them like demons. I
lost sight of Grant, the red drip of
blood over my eyes making all before
me a mist. I only knew enough to
strike. Yet fight as we would there
was no holding them. We were forced
to give way. Guns began to spit fire.
I saw the wounded Dragoon dragged
down under the feet of the mob;
hands gripped my legs, and I kicked
at the faces in my effort to tear loose.
Tom reeled against the wall, his arm
shattered by a blow, and one of the
men above came tumbling over me,
shot dead. The fall of him cleared
the stairs an instant; then the rail
broke, and several toppled over with
it. I stumbled back almost to the top,
sweeping the hair and blood out of
my eyes. What—what was the mat-
ter? They were running, those fellows
down there—struggling, fighting
among themselves to get away. Oaths,
yells, cries of sudden fear, made a per-
fect babel. I could not understand,
could not grasp the meaning of the
sudden panic. Who were those men
surging in through the front door,
pouring out through the library? Then
a voice roared out:
"Bedad, they’re Fagin’s hell-hounds,
byes—ter hell wid ’em! ”
Where had I heard the voice before?
I sank down, too Weak to stand, my
head hanging over the edge of the
stairs. Some hand drew me back, but
« 'VftaKr
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pRb
TEXAS CITY AGENCY—J. L. HOP-
KINS, AGENT.
leave Orders at Goodson’s Drug Store.
Phone 105.
The Tribane Is on Sale at the Follow-
Ing News Stands, Houston, Tex.
Rice Hotel News Tony’s News Stand
Stand Main and Texas
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back against one of my men. An in-
stant I felt sick and dizzy, yet real-
ized I was not seriously hurt, and
managed to stagger to my feet. The
door was closed and locked, and, al-
though my head reeled, I began to
think clearly.
“The other way, lads!” I cried.
“Quick, into the hall!”
We tumbled out through the narrow
entrance, and I found myself next to
Eric. But we were too late to head
off the fugitives, or prevent their
achieving their purpose. In through
the rear door, confused as to. what
had oceurred, yet shouting fiercely,
poured Fagin’s wolves, seeking trou-
ble. They were a wild, rough-looking
i lot, ill-dressed, and dirty even in that
dim light. ‘For an instant, congested
within the limits of the hallway, both
sides paused, staring at each other in
mutual surprise and hesitation. Then
I heard Jones’ bellow of command, and
Grant’s nasal voice profanely ordering
them to come oh. With us there re-
mained no choice; we must fight it
out where we were, regardless of num-
bers.
“Fire! you damned fools—fire!”
roared Jones, and there was a crash-
ing of guns, the dense smoke swirling
between us. A Dragoon at my right
went sprawling; another behind gave
vent to a yell as he plunged head first
down the basement stairs. There was
the sound of splintering wood, of
breaking glass. I felt the blood in my
veins leap to the fever of it.
We were upon the fellows with a
rush, firing in their very faces, and
leaping madly at them. There was
little room between the walls, barely
space for a half-dozen to fight in,
shoulder to shoulder, but those be-
hind, eager to strike also, pressed up
so recklessly that we hurled them
back. To me it was all confusion, up-
roar, deadly fighting. I could think
of nothing to right or left, only of the
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Galveston Tribune. (Galveston, Tex.), Vol. 34, No. 57, Ed. 1 Saturday, January 31, 1914, newspaper, January 31, 1914; (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1410187/m1/4/: accessed July 17, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Rosenberg Library.