Pony Tracks Part 10

"Wait by me," said the captain, as he went into a doorway and read the order by scratching matches on his pantaloons, and the Hotchkiss nearly broke my ear-drums. "Wait a minute or so," said the captain, as he crushed the note into his trousers-pocket.

I waited, and a "kid" of the reserves, whom I knew, greeted me and explained. "They are in the depot, and we are going to carry it by storm in a minute."

Again the Hotchkiss went, and "Come on!" rang the order as the men moved forward. It was the captain, and he wanted me to "wait a minute," so, thinks I, I will wait near him; and pulling my bicycle into a dark doorway, I waited along by the captain, near the head of the procession. As we moved out from the protection of the street the report of a Hotchkiss nearly threw me from my pins, and then we ran silently under a rather hot fire from the windows and doorways. I heard the b.a.l.l.s strike--a dull slap--and a man stumbled forward ahead of me and dropped. I sprang over him, and was soon out of fire, and with the little column pa.s.sed through the big doorway under which I had so often pa.s.sed with my gripsack and on the _qui vive_ for a hansom-cab driver. There was a tremendous rattle of fire, the bullets struck the stonework viciously; the hollow pat sounded, and men sank reeling and lay p.r.o.ne under my feet. We piled in and returned the fire. It was all smoke now; nothing distinguishable. "Come on!" came a voice which interlarded itself with the reports, and we went on wildly. We were now out of the smoke, and then I saw, by the light of a fire, figures running. A man fired in our faces. He was sitting up; a bayonet went into him, and he rolled over, clutching his breast with his hands. "The house is on fire!" came the cry, and the infantry continued to discharge on the retreating figures. A great flash lighted everything, and as my senses returned, it came over me "that was a bomb." I pa.s.sed my hand over my eyes. The building was on fire.

I could see men lying around me breathing heavily and groaning. I got up; a voice said, "Get these men out of here!" "Get these men out of here!" I echoed, as I grabbed a big Irish sergeant, and supporting him under the arms, I strove forward. The living soldiers took hold of the dead and wounded comrades, and bore them back through the smoke and into the street. The station was now on fire, and every one was highly excited, for these bombs made strange work, and were very demoralizing. They did no particular good to the enemy beyond that point, since they did not stop our advance, and they also demoralized the enemy quite as much as ourselves. There seemed to be no further opposition to the troops. I went back to head-quarters, got my horse, and received permission to go with a detachment of cavalry. We pulled out up Michigan Avenue. We were to scout and make a junction with stock-yard troops out to the south of the city or in Washington Park.

The moon was going down, and there was no sound but the clattering of the troops and the jingle of the sabres. We pa.s.sed a large squad of police, with their lanterns, moving out south to protect private residences and arrest prowlers. Ahead of us we heard three revolver-shots, and galloping forward, we were hailed by a voice from a window. "They have been trying to break into my house, catch them; they are running up the street." The road here was very wide, with two rows of trees in the centre and narrow gra.s.s-plots.

"Come on!" shouted the captain, and spurring up, we moved forward.

"There they are, captain: can't you see them?" spoke the old first sergeant, as he drove his horse forward to the captain's side.

We rode over the gra.s.s-plot, and, sure enough, forms were seen to run up the steps of houses and behind shrubbery.

"Dismount!--shoot them down!" came the command, and the men sprang forward with a rush. A revolver flashed, and was followed by a dozen carbine-b.a.l.l.s, and from the blackness of a high front stoop rolled a figure grunting and gasping. Shot after shot rang through the darkness, and the troopers routed the vermin from step and shrubbery, until shortly it ceased.

"Captain, here is Foltz--he's been shot; and McInerny--he's shot too."

I sprang up the steps of a great stone mansion and pounded on the door with the b.u.t.t of my six-shooter. A window was raised and a head peered out. "What do you want?"

"We are United States cavalry, and we have two wounded men. Open your doors; we want you to put them to bed," and the window went down with a bang. Shortly the bolts were drawn, the door opened, and an old gentleman with white hair and carrying a lamp appeared.

"Certainly; bring them right in, captain," said the old gentleman, and the two men were carefully lifted and borne in by their comrades. I helped to carry one man up-stairs, and to take off his great boots and to strip him.

"Is there a doctor near here, sir?" I asked.

"Right across the street; will I send my man?"

"Yes, and a-running, too," replied a comrade, who was stanching the blood on the man's chest with a bed-sheet.

We laid the man out, and I paused to note the splendor of the apartment, and to think it none too good for a brave soldier. The doctor came shortly, and I left the house. The troop was mounted and moved on. From a mansion across the street came a shot and loud shouting. We rode up and dismounted. There was a light in the front room and the door was open. The captain sprang up the steps, followed by ten or twelve men. As we entered we saw a half-dozen of the most vicious-looking wretches I have ever seen. They were evidently drunk, and did not comprehend the import of our presence. One man raised a champagne-bottle and threatened the captain. A carbine flashed--the report was almost deafening--and the drunken man dropped the bottle, threw up his hand, turned half round, and sank with a thud.

"Take these men out and shoot them, sergeant." And the now thoroughly terrorized revellers, to the number of six, were dragged, swearing and beseeching, to the pavement, and I heard shots.

The room we were in was magnificent, but in the utmost disorder. The floor was strewn with broken bottles, vases, and bric-a-brac.

A form appeared in the door. It was a woman. She was speechless with terror, and her eyes stared, and her hands were clutched. We removed our hats, and the woman closed her eyes slowly.

"Look out, captain, she's going to faint!" I cried.

The captain slapped his hat on with a crush.

"That's what she's going to do," he said, as he stood like a football-rusher before the ball is put in play.

"Grab her!" I shouted; and, with a bound, the captain made a high tackle just as the lady became limp. Out in the hall I jumped, and yelled, "Oh, you people up-stairs there, come down; come running; the lady has fainted; we are soldiers; come down; come down; come down, somebody!" And from the upper darkness a white-robed figure glided past me into the lighted room.

"Oh, I'm so glad!" she said, as she swept up to the rather engaging scene of the beautiful woman and the captain, who was "not glad,"

judging from his disconcerted air; and to make a story short, we left the house.

As we mounted we could see the darkness beginning to gray, and knew that morning would come shortly.

"It's been a nasty night's work, but if it once comes daylight I'll leave nothing of these rioters but their horrible memory," mused the old captain.

"There is a glow in the sky off there--don't you see?" I added.

"Fire! Oh, I've expected that."

As the light grayed I could see the doors of majestic residences open, windows broken, and debris trailing down the steps.

"Looted."

"There are people ahead--trot!" said the captain, half turning in his saddle. The bray of the trumpet was followed by the jingle of the forward movement.

The captain pulled off to the side and shouted, "No prisoners, men--no prisoners!" And the column swept along.

We could make out more human forms, all running by the side of the road. There were more and more fugitives as we drew nearer.

"Come on," sang out the first lieutenant, as he put his horse into a gallop and drew his six-shooter; and shortly we were among them, scattering them like chaff and firing revolver-shots into them. Up the side streets they went, scampering, terrorized.

"I guess they will keep that gait for a mile," said the lieutenant, as he turned grinning to me. "That is the outfit which has been looting down Michigan Avenue. I wish the light would come, and we'll give 'em hot stuff."

At Washington Park we dismounted, and shortly were joined by B Troop from Hordon's command. They told us they had been fighting all night, and that the stockyards and many buildings were on fire. They had encountered opposition, which seemed to be armed and to have some organization, but, laughing, he said, "They couldn't stand the 'hot stuff.'"

After this we made the ride back. It was now light, and as we rode slowly, men dismounted at intervals, and did some pretty work at rather long ranges with the carbines. The enemy would see us coming, and start to run up side streets, and then, riding forward, we dismounted and potted at them, I saw a corporal "get a man" who was running upwards of six blocks away--it was luck, of course. The police were now seen posted along at intervals, and were going into houses to tell the people of the order to remain in-doors for twenty-four hours more, which was the latest from headquarters, and I suppose was intended to give the police and troops an opportunity to seek out armed insurgents.

I got back to camp, dismounted, and, being hungry, bethought me of the Auditorium for breakfast. I didn't think, after the pounding the hotel had gotten in the early evening previous, that they would come out strong on an early breakfast, but they did fairly well. You remember Ed Kennedy, the popular clerk there--well, he was shot and badly wounded while behind the desk, after the bomb drew our fire. He will get around all right, I am told.

I saw some of the execution of those hundreds of prisoners next day, but I didn't care to see much. They piled them on flat-cars as though they had been cordwood, and buried them out in the country somewhere.

Most of them were hobos, anarchists, and toughs of the worst type, and I think they "left their country for their country's good." Chicago is thoroughly worked up now, and if they keep with the present attention to detail, they will have a fine population left. The good citizens have a monster vigilance committee, and I am afraid will do many things which are not entirely just, but it is the reaction from lawlessness, and cannot be helped. They have been terribly exasperated by the rioting and license of the past. Of course, my dear friend, all this never really happened, but it all might very easily have happened if the mob had continued to monkey with the military buzz-saw.

Yours faithfully, JACK.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "WE WERE NOW OUT OF THE SMOKE"]

THE COLONEL OF THE FIRST CYCLE INFANTRY

"You certainly are a tough outfit, colonel--you and your night-hawks of the First Bikes--and I am not sure you could not have us cavalrymen going to bed with our boots on, if we were on the other side," said Major Ladigo, as he bit at the end of a fresh cigar.

"Yes--bless me--Pedal's outfit might come into camp on top of yours, Ladigo, and where would my guns be then? I can't have my gunners sitting on their trails all day and all night too," sighed the big gunner, from the other end of the tent.

"It was good work," continued the old brigadier--"here, boy, pa.s.s those gla.s.ses--and I have always thought well of the possibilities of that machine in a certain sort of military operations. I don't think you can chase Apaches with it--in fact, the only way to chase Apaches is to agree to pay about $500 a head for them; and, also, I don't think, Colonel Pedal--with all due respect for your enthusiasm--that you could ever become of all-absorbing interest in great operations between organized armies, but I do not want to commit myself since you seem to accomplish such feats in these days. If we had not had a really progressive man at the head of the army you would not have had this opportunity; but now, Pedal, all these fellows want to hear about your outfit, and especially how you conducted that affair at North Colville--they all want to know--go ahead now--we have plenty of time to listen," and Colonel Pedal of the First Bikes twirled his forage cap in his two hands and grinned pleasantly.

"Well--it was simple enough," he said.

"Oh yes--it's simple now, but how did you get at it?" was the remark of encouragement from somewhere.