Part 49 (1/2)

”You're pretty young,” said the man at the desk. Lorry flushed, but made no answer.

”Number thirty-nine.”

The giant sheepman of the high country strode up, nodded, and took his check.

”Stacey County is well represented,” said the man at the desk.

When the clerk had finished entering the names, there were forty-eight numbers in his book. The man at the desk rose.

”Men,” he said grimly, ”you know what you are here for. If you haven't got guns, you will be outfitted downstairs. Some folks think that this trouble is only local. It isn't. It is national. Providence seems to have pa.s.sed the buck to us to stop it. We are here to prove that we can.

Last night our flag--our country's flag--was torn from the halyards above this building and trampled in the dust of the street. Sit still and don't make a noise. We're not doing business that way. If there are any married men here, they had better take their horses and ride home.

This community does not a.s.sume responsibility for any man's life. You are volunteers. There are four ex-Rangers among you. They will tell you what to do. But I'm going to tell you one thing first; don't shoot high or low when you have to shoot. Draw plumb center, and don't quit as long as you can feel to pull a trigger. For any man that isn't outfitted there's a rifle and fifty rounds of soft-nosed ammunition downstairs.”

The heavy-shouldered man sat down and pulled the notebook toward him.

The men rose and filed quietly downstairs.

As they gathered in the street and gazed up at the naked halyards, a shot dropped one of them in his tracks. An eagle-faced cowman whipped out his gun. With the report came the tinkle of breaking gla.s.s from a window diagonally opposite. Feet clattered down the stairs of the building, and a woman ran into the street, screaming and calling out that a man had been murdered.

”Reckon I got him,” said the cowman. ”Boys, I guess she's started.”

The men ran for their horses. As they mounted and a.s.sembled, the heavy-shouldered man appeared astride a big bay horse.

”We're going to clean house,” he stated. ”And we start right here.”

Chapter XXVIII

_A Squared Account_

The housecleaning began at the building diagonally opposite the a.s.sembled posse. In a squalid room upstairs they found the man who had fired upon them. He was dead. Papers found upon him disclosed his ident.i.ty as an I.W.W. leader. He had evidently rented the room across from the court-house that he might watch the movements of ”The Hundred.”

A cheap, inaccurate revolver was found beside him. Possibly he had fired, thinking to momentarily disorganize the posse; that they would not know from where the shot had come until he had had time to make his escape and warn his fellows.

The posse moved from building to building. Each tenement, private rooming-house, and shack was entered and searched. Union men who chanced to be at home were warned that any man seen on the street that day was in danger of being killed. Several members of the I.W.W. were routed out in different parts of the town and taken to the jail.

Saloons were ordered to close. Saloon-keepers who argued their right to keep open were promptly arrested. An I.W.W. agitator, defying the posse, was handcuffed, loaded into a machine, and taken out of town. Groups of strikers gathered at the street corners and jeered the armed posse. One group, cornered in a side street, showed fight.

”We'll burn your dam' town!” cried a voice.

The sheriff swung from his horse and shouldered through the crowd. As he did so, a light-haired, weasel-faced youth, with a cigarette dangling from the corner of his loose mouth, backed away. The sheriff followed and pressed him against a building.

”I know you!” said the sheriff. ”You never made or spent an honest dollar in this town. Boys,” he continued, turning to the strikers, ”are you proud of this skunk who wants to burn your town?”

A workman laughed.

”You said it!” a.s.serted the sheriff. ”When somebody tells you what he is, you laugh. Why don't you laugh at him when he's telling you of the buildings he has dynamited and how many deaths he is responsible for?

Did he ever sweat alongside of any of you doing a day's work? Do you know him? Does he know anything about your work or conditions? Not a d.a.m.ned thing! Just think it over. And, boys, remember he is paid easy money to get you into trouble. Who pays him? Is there any decent American paying him to do that sort of thing? Stop and think about it.”