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Riis, Jacob A., 1849-1914

"The Making of an American"

At the head of the main street
was a big crowd. Untaught by experience, we bored our way through
it to where a line of men with guns, some in their shirt-sleeves,
some in office coats, some in dusters, were blocking advance to
the coal company's stores. The crowd hung sullenly back, leaving
a narrow space clear in front of the line. Within it a man--I
learned afterward that he was the Mayor of the town--was haranguing
the people, counselling them to go back to their homes quietly.
Suddenly a brick was thrown from behind me and struck him on the
head.
I heard a word of brief command, the rattle of a score of guns
falling into as many extended hands, and a volley was fired into
the crowd point blank, A man beside me weltered in his blood. There
was an instant's dead silence, then the rushing of a thousand feet
and wild cries of terror as the mob broke and fled. We ran with
it. In all my life I never ran so fast. I would never have believed
that I could do it. Ed teased me to the day of his death about it,
insisting that one might have played marbles on my coat-tails, they
flew out behind so.


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