THE MINER’S RIOT.
“_Anda, comarados_,” shouted Sayosa, “push the table against the door,
quick; the _ladrones_ are here!”
This was performed, but none too soon, for, as the massive table was
thrust against the closed door, a rush was heard in the outer room, and
the assailants gave it a fearful shock; but thanks to its brace, the
heavy puncheon did not give way, although it shook upon its hinges. A
volley was fired at the door, but it was only a waste of ammunition, as
the four inches of well-seasoned wood resisted all such attempts.
“Out with the lights, men, and then open the loops. Perhaps we may
return the compliments of our friends outside,” added Marcos.
The shouts of the besiegers in the tap room, together with the clashing
of the bar fixtures, told but too plainly the fate of the _patrona’s_
wines and liquors. Nothing else could be expected, for the _mineros_
were not accustomed to having such a windfall every day, and even those
who usually were so chary of the exhilarating beverage when good, hard
money had to be disgorged in lieu, now emptied glass after glass.
Joaquina cowered in one corner of the room, ringing her hands in
despair, as she pictured her loss, praying to the Virgin that the liquor
might choke the _ladrones_, or pouring out a torrent of vituperation
that only an enraged _Mexicana_ could invent.
“_Madre de Dios_, good _patrona_, rest your tongue for a while,”
exclaimed Marcos, half impatiently, “or the _padre_ will require a
fortune before he can absolve you at next confession. Look, if you are
injured by this night’s work, we will make it up to you either in money
or a _venta_.”
“_Muy bueno_, then I hope the villains will drink the barrels dry, for
then they would be beyond doing you any harm.”
“Ha, that is a good thought! Is there enough for that, _’na_ Joaquina?”
“You will—”
“Capitan, there is a large body of men out here in full view. Shall we
fire?” interrupted a man who was standing at a loop-hole.
He was speedily answered, for scarcely had the words issued from his
lips, than a blaze of light shone in at the loop-holes, and the loud
roar of many guns told that the half-drunken _Melladios_ had fired a
volley at the building. The man who had just spoken gave a convulsive
spring into the air, and fell dead at his young leader’s feet, shot
through the throat. A low, thrilling rattle, a gasp, and he was dead!
“Fire, men, fire!” yelled Sayosa, as he sprung to the loop-hole thus
vacated, and sent his bullet with the rest.
The stars shone brightly enough to indistinctly reveal the forms of
their assailants as they surged to and fro in the open space beyond, and
at the dense mass were the guns discharged with deadly effect. The
reports were followed by a hideous uproar: the groans and shrieks of the
wounded, mingled with the hoarse yells of rage and vengeance of their
comrades; the rushing tramp hither and yon, as they retreated or
advanced, according to their courage or recklessness; the clang of
steel, shot and _escopettes_ against the pavement as the weapons were
reloaded; the flash and dull roar as a piece was discharged at the
building—all made up a wild, weird picture.
Afar off could faintly be heard the roll of a drum and call of bugles,
showing that the town was alarmed, but that afforded neither fear to the
one nor hope to the other party, for well they knew that the military
force available could do nothing toward quelling the riots, and, before
aid could be procured, the matter would be decided in one way or the
other.
Marcos Sayosa had no fear of the ultimate result being against him. He
knew that his comrades of the Rayas mine would soon learn of their
situation, and, until they should arrive to the rescue, he could hold
the building against the _Melladios_. So, by his orders, the men kept up
a steady fusillade from the loop-holes wherever a foe could be seen, and
by dodging as quickly as their shot was delivered, the return fire,
aimed at the flashes, was harmless, although several bullets passed
through the apertures.
Then came a wild, ferocious yell from the besiegers, as if at the
arrival of some powerful auxiliary. The occupants of the _posada_ were
not long left in doubt as to the meaning of this uproar. Indeed, the
truth was suspected before the cries had died away, and those nearest to
the door soon heard the roaring, crackling sound that but one thing
emits—_fire_.
It was but too true. The _Melladios_ had splintered the shelves, outer
door, and bar-room furniture, piled it in the center of the room and
against the partition door, poured spirits over it, and then applied a
candle. Although the side-walls were of sun-dried bricks, or _adobes_,
there was plenty of fuel in the floors, partition, roof and ceiling,
that would burn like tinder, and was a danger not to be scorned.
“Bah! the drunken fools; let them yell. We will foil them yet,” sneered
Sayosa. “Here, half a dozen of you cut a hole through the _adobes_ at
the further end. You can do it easily with your _machetes_ and
_cuchillos_. The rest of you keep up a fire on the demons out yonder.
The light will reveal them plainly now, and it will keep them from
suspecting what we are doing. This bonfire will show our _conpairanos_
where to seek us, and then we will take a dear revenge upon these
rascally dogs who disgrace the name of _mineros_!”
While uttering these directions, the young leader was not idle, but led
the party in their work upon the end wall of the building. Under the
sharp points of their weapons, wielded by strong and willing hands, the
hard clay began to crumble and fall to the floor. But it was thick, and
required time. The fire had already began to creep along the roof of the
apartment, and the massive door showed signs of rapid burning upon its
inner side. The room was oppressively hot and close; perspiration
dampened the clothes of the besieged, and in their eagerness to obtain a
breath of fresh air, through the loop-holes, they exposed themselves to
the bullets of the beleaguers, and two were instantly killed, while
several others received flesh-wounds in the head, more or less
dangerous.
Then a blow, better directed than the rest, pierced the wall, the
wielder’s hand and arm following the knife. They could not suppress a
shout of joy, and worked on with increased energy to enlarge the
aperture. Foot by foot it fell outward, and then, when it was large
enough for their purpose, Marcos ordered his followers to reload all
their firearms, as it was likely they would be needed. Then, selecting
two of the most trustworthy miners, he directed them to hasten at full
speed through the town, and raise assistance by sounding the motto of
the Scarlet Shoulders.
Then the little band pressed through the aperture, and the messengers
darted off into the darkness upon their errand. Before the last of the
Scarlet Shoulders were outside of the burning building, a loud shout
told both them and the main body of their foes that they were
discovered. A wild rush was made toward them, and telling the terrified
_patrona_ to flee for her life, Marcos retreated rapidly from the circle
of light cast by the burning _venta_.
The _Melladios_ came rushing on, outnumbering their rivals three to one,
and evidently thinking that the Scarlet Shoulders would not dare risk a
hand-to-hand combat. Indeed, several of the miners shouted out that the
cowards were running, in a derisive voice. But if this was their
thoughts, they were soon undeceived. As soon as the gloom was entered,
and while the enemy were in the broad light, Marcos Sayosa directed:
“_Comarados_, when I give the word, fire, and then drop on your faces.
The man that stands up will never do so again!”
The little band stood firm with leveled carbines, and the foe
approached. Half crazed with drink, they thought not of caution, but
with demoniac hoots and yells, they crossed the point Sayosa had
selected as the limit. Like a clarion note the young miner’s voice
sounded:
“_Fire, men, fire!_”
As a sheet of lightning the carbines vomited their contents almost in
the face of the enemy, at less than twenty paces. The front ranks went
down like the weeds before a prairie fire, as many, perhaps from
surprise and terror as wounds. Those in the rear discharged a random
volley, but as the Scarlet Shoulders had obeyed their leader’s orders
and dropped to the ground, it was perfectly harmless.
“Now, _compadres_, out with your steel, and teach the cowardly dogs
better manners than to molest men!” yelled Marcos, as he drew his
_machete_ and sprung into the _melee_.
Before the _Melladios_ recovered from the confusion the unexpected
onslaught had thrown them into, their foes were upon them, slashing and
thrusting, fighting with sword in one hand, a knife in the other with
which to deal wounds or ward off blows, as might be. Thus a fearful
scene ensued.
The dense mass of swarthy, powerful men, swaying to and fro, wielding
the deadly weapons they had been familiar with from childhood; yelling,
cursing, cheering and blaspheming like a horde of demons fresh let loose
from pandemonium; the long black hair floating around their fierce,
inflamed faces with every movement; the weapons flashing around them,
clashing together until tiny showers of sparks gritted from the steel,
falling swiftly, to rise again, gleaming a dull red, while the ruby
drops of life-blood trickled from the edge or point; the shrieks and
moans of the wounded wretches as they are trampled ruthlessly under
foot; the falling forms of those who are stricken unto death in their
tracks, or tottering away from the _melee_ to fall in some unoccupied
spot, where they can die undisturbed, save by the terrible din; while
the burning house roars in concert, casting its ruddy light over the
conflict, revealing every phase in all its details, and the crash of the
heavy walls, seem in keeping with the fall of man.
Oh, what pen could portray such a scene? The dreadful interest of the
whole would absorb the particulars.
Foremost among the _Melladios_ was the form of the man who had betrayed
the Scarlet Shoulders—he who had enacted the part of spy to lull their
suspicions—Sylva Cohecho. Sayosa recognized him, and divining the true
part he had played, strove to encounter him to reward his treachery. But
whether by accident or design, in this he was baffled, for sometime, as
was also Lucas Planillas.
The traitor seemed to bear a charmed life, and as his long, powerful
arms wielded a heavy sword, he cut down or beat off all who attacked
him, until at length Marcos found himself face to face with the spy.
“Accursed dog, I have met you at last, and now you will never play the
spy again!” hissed the young miner, as he aimed a heavy, downright blow
at his foe, but which slid harmlessly from the _machete_ of Cohecho.
“Bah! you crow loud for a chicken that has not yet grown his spurs,”
taunted the ruffian, as he returned the compliment. “Señor Estevan
Despierto will not have you for a rival with _’na_ Carlita, after
to-night.”
“I shall live to see the _coyotes_ poisoned by _your_ carcass, at any
rate.”
The tumult was constantly increasing in the city, and was rapidly
nearing the scene of the conflict; but the combatants did not heed that.
The long-smothered rage and rivalry between the partisans had now broken
bounds, and it must be a strong barrier that would be able to stay its
course. Although blood had been spilled upon more than one occasion by
the factions, it was only in solitary instances, settled rather as a
duel between enemies than a partisan affair. But now the revolt had come
to a head, and nothing but the complete defeat of one party could check
the riots, unless, indeed, a military force should arrive sufficiently
strong to _compel_ peace—an event that was far from likely.
At this point of the contest, a crowd of armed men arrived upon the
scene, and, with loud shouts of “Los Rayas forever!” “Down with the
_Melladios_!” they plunged into the _melee_, and the next minute the
enemy broke, and fled in every direction, darting into the gloom that
was rendered more intense by the contrast with the ruddy glow of the
still burning building, closely pursued by the victorious miners.
The rescuing party of Scarlet Shoulders who had arrived so opportunely,
had been closely followed by the police and military force; but these
prudently awaited until the battlefield was comparatively clear, when
they boldly advanced and arrested several of the victors and a few
wounded. But the cry for rescue was quickly set up, and the miners
promptly rallied, with wild yells, and charged the troops. These latter
worthies, deeming valor the better part of discretion, abandoned their
captives and fled for their lives, seeing the folly of attempting a
resistance.
The rioters well knew what penalty awaited them if they should become
known, and collecting their wounded, speedily vanished to place them in
security. But the affair was not yet over, as they well knew. The
defeated _Melladios_ would collect reinforcements, and another effort
would be made to retrieve their lost honor.