A TRAGEDY OF THE STRIKE.
“Stop where you are!”
This harsh order came from the barricade, and at the same time a number
of heads appeared in view over the top of the heavy planks forming the
stockade around the buildings of the cement works.
It did not need the sight of the Winchester rifles in the hands of these
men to tell Hugh they must be the guards who were responsible for the
shooting. He knew that in the main these men were hardened, desperate
fellows, who possibly made it their business to hire out to companies
needing such kind of help, for it always brought big pay, and a certain
sort of excitement which they craved.
Of course Hugh obeyed immediately. He did not want to dare them to fire
on him or take unnecessary chances simply because he was carrying a flag
of truce. Besides that he was now close up to the heavy barricade, and
in a position to do what little talking he had in view.
As he ran his eye along the top of the fence he concluded that there
must be some sort of platform on the other side, built so that the
guards could crouch behind the shelter, and at the same time be in a
position to suddenly show themselves in case they felt that it was
necessary to shoot.
Hugh also decided that the man near the middle must be the one whose
gruff voice had uttered that significant command. Yes, there was that
about him to designate the big man a leader. Even as Hugh was making up
his mind as to this he heard once more the booming of the heavy voice
that rasped unpleasantly on his ears.
“Now, who are you, and what d’ye want here, anyway?”
“We are Boy Scouts from Oakvale,” the boy immediately hastened to tell
him, “and we happened to be in camp only a couple of miles away. When we
heard the shooting we hurried over, thinking that we might be of some
assistance, that’s all.”
“As how?” demanded the captain of the armed guards, harshly.
“Why, you see, all scouts are taught the first principles of taking care
of the wounded; and prompt action in that way often saves a person from
bleeding to death. Some of my comrades are busy right now over in the
settlement, and we’ve come here to ask if you have any objections to our
carrying off any others who have been hurt, and are lying helpless close
by.”
Hugh said this without trying to give any offense. He could easily guess
that he was speaking to a man with very little or no feeling in his
heart for the ignorant foreigners who had rebelled against a reduction
in pay, and were making trouble for the rich owner of the works. To this
captain of the guards, they were only so many “dagoes” and he believed
in treating them pretty much as animals.
Still the law might choose to investigate this shooting, and it would be
apt to go hard with him if he were accused by these boys of having
refused to let them assist those unfortunates who were bleeding to
death.
The man was shrewd enough to see that, which fact doubtless made him
answer Hugh as he did.
“Oh! so far as that goes none of us here have any objections to you
carrying ’em off, and fixin’ ’em up the best way you can,” he called
out, with a short, nervous laugh. “They would have it, and forced us to
fire. It was our lives or theirs. They rushed the gate with guns and
knives flourishing. We had to fire, or it would have been all over with
the lot of us. You hear what I’m saying, don’t you, boy?”
Hugh thought it wise to repress his feelings of indignation. It would
never do for him to boldly tell this man, that as far as he had seen,
all of the wounded had been shot from the rear, which would indicate
that they were in flight at the time of being injured.
“Yes, I hear you, sir,” the scout master replied; “and I thank you for
giving us permission to do what we can for these poor fellows.”
“Oh, that’s all right, boy!” continued the man, “and I hope you’ll warn
’em not to come near this works again if they know what’s good for ’em.
The men that are in here want to work at the wages the strikers refused.
They threw up their jobs, and if they try to trespass on the company’s
property, they do it at their peril. We’ve got the law back of us, and
you tell ’em so, kid, hear that?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Hugh, though he certainly did not mean to be made
the mouthpiece of this bragging guard leader.
“My men had orders to shoot low, and I don’t reckon that any of the poor
fools have been killed; but it’s their own fault, anyway. When a mob of
hundreds of wild men and women rush a little party of a dozen men, it
ain’t no time for being over-particular where you send your lead. Go on,
then, and do what you want. I’ve heard a heap about you scouts; let’s
see if you do know anything about taking care of the wounded.”
Hugh waited for no more. With that permission he was satisfied none of
them would be fired on by the guards in hiding behind the stockade.
Turning, he immediately hurried back to where he had left the other
fellows. They had done what they could to staunch the blood that had
been flowing from a nasty wound. The woman was weak and, Hugh feared, in
a bad way.
As soon as the scout master arrived he examined to see what the others
had done, for neither Bud nor Alec pretended to have had anything like
the practical experience that Hugh did in this first aid to the injured
business.
“We can better that some,” he told them, “and I think it would be wise
to go at it before you try to carry her to the field hospital, where
Arthur can get busy.”
Both of the other scouts were only too willing to do what they could;
and making all the speed possible, Hugh soon had matters fixed to his
satisfaction.
“Now, since you’ve already placed her on the stretcher, see if you can
lift and carry her, boys. I’ll stay here and try to do what I can for
the others.”
It required a considerable effort to raise the woman, for she was quite
stocky in build, though short of stature, as is usually the case with
natives of certain parts of Italy. Fortunately, however, Alec and Bud
were sturdily constructed boys, and prided themselves on their muscular
ability; so that they presently managed to stand erect, each holding an
end of the poles forming the sides of the litter.
“Be as quick as you can, fellows!” Hugh called out after them as they
started off. “If you feel too tired, send a couple of the others in your
place.”
Immediately Hugh started to see what next could be done. He had never
before been thrown in close contact with so much human suffering and
misery, and it was little wonder that his heart throbbed with pity as he
saw that there were still several more forms lying there on that
terrible field where they had fallen.
One man seemed to be huddled up as though he might be actually dead.
Hugh hardly dared look toward him, for up to that time the boy had never
been brought face to face with the grim reality of death.
There were two others, however, who were moving, and toward these he
hurried. One was holding himself up with his arms, and seemed to be
anticipating relief. Perhaps he may have seen that the poor woman had
been carried away on a stretcher; and he hoped for the same treatment
himself. He looked from time to time in deadly fear toward the stockade
from whence that murderous fire had leaped out, under which he had
fallen.
It turned out that he was terribly injured about the legs. Hugh
immediately jumped to the conclusion that scattering buckshot fired from
a riot gun must have been responsible for those many ugly wounds. He
remembered what the captain of the guards had said about giving orders
to “shoot low”; and Hugh decided that this fact alone accounted for the
many injuries to the lower extremities of the strikers.
He bent over the man and tried to see if there was anything that could
be done then and there to help him. Finding that none of his wounds
looked very serious, and deciding that fright and the sight of blood
combined to make him weak, Hugh felt that he could leave him and hurry
on to the next victim.
“They will be back soon and carry you to the shacks,” he told the man,
at the same time giving him a reassuring nod and a smile, which
doubtless did more to buoy up his spirits than any spoken words, which
he may not have understood at all.
The next man, who lay there on the ground groaning, Hugh found to be in
a serious way indeed. He had been shot in the back, though just how near
the bullet had gone to a vital part could only be found out by a careful
examination later on.
These boys were hardly fitted to undertake any such serious job as this.
Their knowledge of surgery was confined to setting broken limbs or
binding up wounds; they knew exactly how to go about stopping the flow
of blood in case anyone happened to cut themselves with an ax or a
knife; they could resuscitate a comrade who had come within an ace of
being drowned; they could undertake to assuage the pain caused by colic
or ptomaine poisoning, and all such things; but when they came upon a
case where a bullet had passed through a man’s body, it was time to wait
for the arrival of a regular surgeon.
Hugh now began to look anxiously for the return of the two scouts with
the handy, if crude stretcher. He believed they had had ample time to go
all the way to the foreign settlement and be well on the road back.
To his satisfaction he caught sight of them on the run; and evidently
Alec and Bud did not mean to turn their office over to any of the
others, for they had taken it upon themselves to return in person.
Hugh hardly knew which of the two men should be carried off first. They
were both seriously hurt, and it was a toss-up which one needed
attention more than the other.
So Hugh decided to send the man whose legs had been so badly peppered by
the scattering buckshot. Arthur could do all that was necessary for him,
whereas Hugh feared that the other man would have to wait until some
help came from town. They could carry him to where he would not be lying
in the glaring sunlight; so that he could be given a drink of water, or
something to keep his strength up.
“Here, help me lift this man on your stretcher, boys,” said Hugh, as he
beckoned them over.
“How about those other two we see yonder?” asked Alec.
“One is badly hurt, shot through the body somewhere,” replied the scout
master; “and the other has not stirred, so far as I have seen.”
“Oh, my stars! do you think that he’s really dead?” asked Billy, who was
not as rosy-cheeked as usual, Hugh noticed, though not wondering at all
that this should be the case.
“I don’t know, but I’m afraid of the worst,” Hugh told him. “I haven’t
been over to him so far, but expect to go as soon as you get started.
Now, take hold, and be easy, boys, with this poor chap.”
The man groaned as they moved him, but he bravely tried to smile back
when he saw Hugh nodding to him in that friendly and comforting way.
Then the litter was once more raised with an effort, and away the
burden-bearers went as fast as they could.
“Keep in step, both of you!” called out Hugh. “It makes the going a
whole lot easier for you!”
After they were well on their way, Hugh cast a comprehensive glance
around him. He heaved a genuine sigh of relief when he made sure of the
fact that except for the striker who had been shot through the body, and
the other still form, the open field seemed to be clear of all evidences
of the harvest that had followed the sowing of the seed of strife.
The boy shut his teeth hard together. He disliked going over to find out
the condition of that motionless, huddled figure; but duty was a thing
Hugh Hardin never allowed himself to disregard, no matter what pangs it
might bring in its train. So he started straight toward the object of
his solicitude, determined to know the worst, no matter what the cost
was to his feelings.